Swat Standoff

He snatched his arm back and rubbed where her nails had formed indentations on his skin. “What’d you do that for?”

“You’re drunk.”

“No kidding.”

A drop of rain landed on her head. Then another. “Look, I just want to talk some sense into you. I came here to ask you to come back. You’re a good cop, a solid detective. You—”

“Was,” he interrupted. “I was a good cop. Past tense. Dillon fired me. Remember?” He squinted at her through the smattering of raindrops that were starting to fall faster.

“Maybe we can fix that. Dillon has scheduled another training exercise at nine tomorrow morning. If you show up in your gear, like you’re ready to try again, you can talk to him, apologize—”

“Apologize? You’re kidding, right? He said I was toxic. You think an apology is going to change his opinion?”

“I think it would be a great start.”

He shook his head. “There’s no point in talking to Dillon. His mind is made up.”

“So, that’s it?” she said. “You’re just going to quit?”

“I...was...fired.” He enunciated each word slowly and concisely, as if she were hard of hearing. “I don’t have a choice. My career in Destiny is over. Finished. There’s nothing I can do.” He held his hand out again. “We’re about to get soaked. Give me my keys, and I’m out of your life forever.”

His words took the breath right out of her. Did he really not care about her at all? What was she to him? Not even a friend whom he would miss? More angry than concerned about his welfare at this point, she whirled around and dashed toward her car.

This time, the element of surprise was on her side. Or maybe the rain slowed him down. She’d just gotten her driver’s door closed and locked when he reached her. His shoes slid across the gravel as he tried to stop. But he ended up slamming against her door and grabbing her side mirror to keep from falling on his face.

He swore and straightened. Then he yanked her door handle a few times before leaning down to glare at her through the window. The clouds chose that moment to open up. Rain pelted down on him in sheets, drenching him in seconds. He hunched his shoulders against the onslaught, his dark eyes promising retribution through the glass.

“I need my keys,” he yelled to be heard over the thunder and rain. He rapped his knuckles on the window. “Keys.”

“You’re drunk,” she yelled back. “You have no business driving. Walk home.” She dropped his keys onto the seat beside her and started the engine.

He slammed his hand against the roof of her car, making her jump. “My house is over twenty miles away.”

“I can give you a ride home. But your truck stays here.”

“No.”

They glared at each other through the window. Him probably hating her. Her hating herself for having wasted so much time on him, both personally and professionally. Maybe she should give up on men entirely. They weren’t worth the trouble.

She put her foot on the brake and shifted into drive.

His eyes narrowed. “Donna, don’t you dare—”

She slammed the accelerator and zoomed out of the parking lot.

Chapter Four (#u4616cb0c-7ce0-5f3c-83fe-5b659724d9ea)

Where was Blake, and was he okay? Those two questions had been worrying Donna all evening, ever since she’d left him standing in the rain, yelling after her.

She sat in her recliner, her legs tucked underneath her, while she cradled a cup of hot chocolate in her hands. It wasn’t that the house was cold. Outside, it was only mildly chilly, and then only when the winds blew down from the nearby mountains. But she didn’t need cold weather as an excuse to have hot chocolate. It was her poison of choice when she needed soothing.

Tonight, she definitely needed soothing.

Across the room, the TV screen hung over the fireplace, dark and quiet. Typically, unless her mom or one of her mom’s well-meaning klatch of friends had set her up on yet another disastrous blind date, she would spend Saturday nights binge-watching recorded cop shows. The ones with the fake forensics and technology were the most entertaining. Where an investigator could search a single database and come up with a person’s entire life history in seconds—like what books that person had checked out of the library in kindergarten and never returned. Nothing could make her laugh harder than their implausible, ridiculous storylines. But tonight, instead, she stared at the set of keys on the coffee table. Blake’s keys.

And she wasn’t laughing.

Guilt was riding her hard. Not for taking his keys. She’d probably saved his life, or someone else’s, by not letting him drive. But she shouldn’t have left him in that parking lot with no way home. She should have argued with him until he agreed to get in her car. She could have taken him back later—once he was sober—to get his truck.

Where was he now? What was he doing? She had absolutely no clue. When she left him, she’d driven away for all of fifteen minutes before guilt had sent her back to that rancid-smelling bar. But even though his black pickup was still sitting in the gravel right where she’d left it, Blake wasn’t.

The bartender had only shrugged when she asked him where Blake had gone. She suspected he knew the answer. But he had no inclination to tell her. Four hours later, with the clock edging close to midnight, Blake still hadn’t responded to any of her calls or texts.

Not that she could blame him.

If he’d left her in that parking lot, she’d be furious. For days. Maybe longer. Mama always said her temper ran hotter than a busted radiator and cooled just as slowly.

She let out a heavy sigh and set her still-full cup on the side table. There was no use delaying the inevitable any longer. No amount of chocolate or silly cop shows were going to make her relax. And there was no point in trying to sleep. How could she even try to close her eyes when he could be lying hurt somewhere, maybe passed out in a ditch?

That lovely image had crossed her mind so many times that she’d called the emergency room in Maryville to see if he’d been brought in. The state police and the dispatch operators for both Blount and Sevier Counties had no reports on him either. She should have been relieved. Instead, she was more worried than ever. It was as if he’d vanished.

Okay—that was it. She absolutely couldn’t sit here any longer, waiting for a call that was never going to come. She would have to head back out and find him herself. Again. And this time, she wasn’t leaving until he was safe and sound at home.

After retrieving her holster and pistol from the floor beside her chair, she went into her bedroom to change out of her nightshirt. A few minutes later, dressed in jeans and a simple button-up blouse, she headed toward the front door.

A loud knock had her whipping out her pistol and flattening herself against the wall beside the door. Her pulse rushed in her ears. Who would be pounding on her door this late? Or even at all? Saying that she lived in the boonies was an understatement. Visitors willing to drive out this far from town, this far from anything, were extremely rare. Even her own family was loath to make the trip and bounce down the pothole-filled street in front of her house. Donna was the one who usually made the long trek to see them instead.

The knock sounded again. “Donna?” Blake’s deep voice bellowed. “I know you’re up. I saw you through the front window.”

Blake. He was okay. Thank God. Her shoulders dropped, the tension draining out of her as she holstered her gun and reached for the dead bolt. Then his words sank in. She hesitated, without opening the door. “Why were you peeping in my window?”

“I wasn’t peeping.”

She could practically hear him roll his eyes.

“Your lights are on, and the blinds are open,” he continued. “I could see you from halfway down that death trap out front that you call a road. The suspension on my truck is probably shot now. What’d you do? Tick the mayor off, and now he won’t send the city out to maintain your street?”

She flipped the dead bolt and pulled open the door. “Actually, it’s his wife. She sped through a school zone, so I radioed for a patrol unit and followed her to city hall. She didn’t appreciate me detaining her until the uniformed officer got there. And she especially didn’t like the two-hundred-fifty-dollar ticket.”

His brows rose as he stepped inside. “Did you know who she was when you saw her speeding?”

“Yep. Honestly, I probably wouldn’t have bothered if she’d blown by me out on the highway. It’s not like we have enough traffic around here to worry about her causing an accident. But she could have run someone’s kid over. That’s an unforgivable sin in my book. So if the price of making her stop and think next time is a bumpy ride home every day, I’ll pay it.” She winced. “But I do need to get a four-wheel drive if this vendetta goes on much longer. My little SUV isn’t designed for that kind of punishment. It’s already starting to rattle, and it’s only a few years old.”

He smiled. “I didn’t know you had a soft spot for kids. Why haven’t I heard this story before?”

She cocked her head. “Why haven’t you ever visited my house before? And why haven’t you invited me to yours? We’re partners. We should kick back together after work sometimes, or on weekends.”

His smile faded. “The answer to those questions are irrelevant, since I’m not a cop anymore.”