His Wild Blue Rose Page 7

  I choked up, but didn’t want to seem like anything less of a badass than I was, so I didn’t let it show. I just cleared my throat and said, “We got pinned down in the kitchen. It was bad. Dead ’banger here, two of ours dead over there, and one of the detectives, a dude less than two years out from retirement, is layin’ there gasping on the floor. I get him up, go to move around the island, and take one in the leg. I went for the stairs and took a second one in the back of the leg. I was out of ammo by then, and there’s this shotgun and I fell, fallin’ on top of this guy I’m trying to save. I snatched it up and pointed it at the ’banger coming to finish the job and… man. I’ll never forget the look on his face or how his chest opened up.”

  I looked over at her. The silence in the apartment as deafening as the silence after the roar of that sawed-off I’d grabbed up. Her eyes were wide, her hands gripping her ankle through the blanket in a white-knuckled grip as she listened.

  “I got Rubin out front, but he’d taken one in the neck. He was dead before I even got him out of the house. I tried, though.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she murmured, and I looked up from where I was playing with a loose thread near one of my cargo pockets, into some very serious brown eyes filled with hurt.

  “Don’t do that, Chica.”

  “Do what?”

  “Hurt for me. I can handle that all on my own, I’m a big boy.” She sort of shrank in on herself a little, and to take the sting out of my words, I gave her a sort of half-smile and added, “Besides, you got more than enough hurt all on your own to handle, eh?”

  She sighed and it was a heavy, tired thing. I slapped the shit out of myself on the inside for reminding her. She gave me a slightly watered-down, charmed little smile and said, “Don’t we make a pair?”

  I laughed slightly and nodded. “Yeah, tonight we do. Tomorrow’s a new day, though, and you know what they say…”

  She shook her head and asked, “No, what?”

  “‘Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of your life.’ One day at a time, with shit like this.” She thought about it and nodded, and I sprang my idea.

  “I’m going to be off for a few days, you working tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, I need to.”

  “Cool, I’ll be by to get you when you’re done. You got gym clothes?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Tomorrow, I start teaching you how to make sure something like what happened to you, never happens again, that’s why.”

  She laughed incredulously, “Me, stop a guy the size of Ray? As big as you?” She shook her head. “Impossible.”

  I gave her a look and smiled myself. “Bigger they are the harder they fall. Violence comes up, when it comes to someone like you and your size, you don’t fight fair, Chica. You fight to survive. I’m going to teach you every dirty street-fighting trick in the book, and throw in some legit moves the Army taught me, too. Also, there’s a chick that travels the states teaching the departments how to deescalate situations and how to temper their use of force. She’s some kind of Krav Maga queen. We have some of her training DVD’s at the department. I’m going to see about scoring some copies and I want you to study them. Knowledge is power.”

  “You’re serious,” she said in disbelief.

  “As a heart attack, chick. Never again.”

  I met her eyes with mine, and she repeated softly, “Never again.”

  I nodded, “That’s my girl.”

  She rolled her eyes and snorted, swinging the couch pillow at me; I caught it and hugged it so she couldn’t take it back. She got up, gracefully despite the unwieldy blanket, and managed to keep those long legs hidden as she went around the back of the couch.

  “You getting a shower?” she asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Good, because I wanted one.”

  I smiled as she called back from the hallway, “Good night, Golden.”

  “Night, chick. Get some good sleep.”

  That, of course, ended up being wishful thinking on my part. A couple hours later, I found myself staring at my own bedroom ceiling, wondering just what the hell I was thinking taking on something like this… but I’d already committed. I couldn’t pull back now. Besides, I was suspended for a week. Could possibly be without pay, I wouldn’t know for a bit. I’d more than busted the guy’s nose when I’d shoved him into our patrol car. I’d snapped off some teeth. “Excessive force” was probably going to go into my jacket for this one and I couldn’t say I’d left the brass much of a choice. He was handcuffed, and by that point had stopped resisting, all except for his shouting.

  Lys didn’t need to know any of that, though. I needed to get her used to the idea that, like it or not, violence was a part of everyday life and could rear its ugly head at any moment, but I needed to do it without scaring the shit out of her, either. I wasn’t one-hundred-percent on how exactly I was going to accomplish that, but I’d figure it out.

  She was already pretty well wrapped around the axle and still jumpy as shit. I didn’t know if putting some agency back into her own hands was going to be enough, but it seemed like a good enough place to start.

  I sighed, as much out of worry as out of frustration at my inability to sleep. We’d see if she would commit to the course of action I had planned, too. She seemed a little taken aback when I’d suggested it out in the living room, and hadn’t looked too thrilled at the prospect of my picking her up from work.

  I finally managed to fall asleep, probably just before her damn alarm went off for her to go to work, but by then, I was so tired, my mind wore out from running on its hamster wheel, that I didn’t even come close to waking up when it did. I slept right through it.

  14

  Alyssa…

  I thought about what he said, about training me to be prepared and I thought to myself, Yes, I’d like that. To be prepared means to not be afraid. Or, well, not ‒as‒ afraid. I went to bed feeling much better, now that I potentially had something concrete to cling to, and when I got up the next morning, before I even got dressed, I went and found my exercise leggings, sports bra, and a loose-fitting exercise tee.

  I was used to cycling or running on a treadmill for my exercise, and I was afraid that in my exercise clothes, I looked like one of those women who was wearing them more as a fashion statement than for their intended purpose. I was also pretty self-conscious about wearing them where I could be seen and I would go to the exercise room at our condo only when I knew no-one else was likely to be there. I had a lot of self-image issues. I knew that about myself, but I figured, what woman didn’t?

  I tried to remember when those issues had first appeared, and I was both surprised and not surprised to realize it had started after I had given up the fertility shots. That's when Ray had stopped wanting to be seen with me, when he had started spending more time out of the house than in it, when spending time with the guys had become more paramount to him than going out or being seen with me…

  When I started to feel neglected. Alone. Un-beautiful to my husband. I thought it was just a phase; that we would work through it, that he would come around eventually. I had been woefully naïve.

  I dug my running shoes out of the bottom of the closet, and with a sigh, set everything on the desk chair, neatly folded.

  I thought about what to do, as I got dressed. I wanted Golden to know that I was serious, but at the same time, I was nervous. I was scared of failure like you wouldn’t believe, which was almost laughable, considering the monumental failure my marriage was.

  That wasn’t you… I thought, and it was true. I wasn’t the one who cheated. I wasn’t the one to give up on us, to stop even trying. Except, I had. I hadn’t told Ray how I felt. How I felt alone, devalued, and so much less at his rejection. I hadn’t made him talk to me, or told him how much his silence killed me.

  I’d just patiently waited, and for what? My inaction was partially to blame, but I wouldn’t be that way anymore. If I didn’t learn from my mistakes I was doomed to repeat them
. That's why I left, why there would be no apology great enough from Ray to ever make me go back. No matter how much it hurt to be alone, no matter how much it ached to give up.

  Except you didn’t give up. I shook my head as I picked up my things and went out to the dining table. I set them in a neat pile on it and went over to the end table by the couch and picked up the legal pad full of random scribbles and figures. I had no idea what it was for but I needed to leave a note.

  I hastily scratched out what I wanted to say.

  Golden –

  I get off work at six, I don’t have a gym bag or anything, but I wanted you to know I was serious. Go left out the building, up two blocks, then left, and down four. My shop is on the corner of Bowker and 67th. I’ll see you then.

  Lys

  I left the pad next to my clothes and took a determined breath.

  I went to work and spent a long day, dealing with customers who were either dissatisfied or couldn’t make up their mind. I was as patient as I could be with the latter, because I certainly knew how they felt. I must have gone back and forth, waffling between whether or not I was ready to really do anything about my situation. The fear, the anger, the hurt, all balled up into a Gordian knot of emotion, weighting my heart like a stone.

  I was mopping up a water spill when the bell above the door chimed. I straightened and turned, to see Golden strolling in. He had a gym bag slung over his shoulder and wore sweats, like he was ready to go running.

  “Hey,” I said, sweeping a stray lock of my hair out of my face and tucking it behind my ear.

  “Hey, you almost ready?”

  “Mm, should be in just a few.”

  “Cool.” He held out the bag. “Go get changed; I think starting with cardio is the way to go.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  I took the bag from him and turned, handing the mop off to Avery and asking, “You’re okay to close up?” She was staring at Golden open-mouthed, and nodded absently.

  “Avery?” I asked, to make sure.

  “Yeah, yeah I’m good, go, go!” She shooed me toward the back, and I smiled and shook my head.

  I went into the bathroom and changed.

  Golden nodded his approval when I came back out, and I asked, “What should I do with this?” indicating the gym bag of my regular clothes.

  “Leave it, you got keys. We’ll come back by and get it.” He was staring at his phone and frowning slightly, tracing along the screen with a finger. I took a peek at the screen and he seemed to be setting up an app to give us a route. I slid my own phone into the pocket for it in the leggings, blessing whoever had thought to include the slim phone pocket in the design.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, Avery.”

  “No problem.”

  I followed Golden out onto the sidewalk and looped my keyring around my index finger, palming the keys. He slid his phone into an armband and said, “Come on, let’s warm up.”

  He set off in a brisk pace down the sidewalk and I wondered what he was thinking but was honestly too nervous to ask. Guys hated to be peppered with questions and it was a bad habit of mine, one I had forever been exasperating Ray with, when we’d been married. Wait and find out. Watch the movie. Jesus, Lys! Listen and you might get your answer.

  “How was your day?” Golden asked, and it jolted me out of my reverie.

  “Long,” I said, and laughed a bit nervously.

  He nodded and said, “Rule number one of any situation is “Know Your Surroundings”. Don’t let yourself get lost in your head. People who are comfortable with doing violence to another person won’t hesitate to exploit a weakness like that. Don’t give them the opportunity.”

  “Right, sorry,” I murmured and he shook his head.

  “Don’t be sorry, be safe. You’re not a person who has dealt with much violence, or has even been aware of it until what happened, happened. Now, it’s our goal to make sure, not that it won’t happen again, but that you’re prepared to handle it if or when it does. Baptism by fire has already occurred. It didn’t end well, you got hurt. If there’s a next time, we want to make it so you either don’t get hurt, or barring that, you get hurt less.”

  “Easier said than done,” I said with a nervous laugh, and he nodded.

  “You’re learning already.”

  He broke into an easy lope and I picked up my pace into a light jog to keep up. It was a gradual ramping-up into a hard run that took us in a big loop, ending a few blocks from the shop, where he slowed back into a cool-down walk.

  “Now what?” I asked, when I finally caught my breath enough to speak.

  “We get your shit and we go home. I’m starving.”

  “I’ll cook, if you’d like.”

  “After we hit the showers, sure.”

  “Okay.”

  We stopped at my shop and picked up the bag with my work clothes. Golden took it from me and slung it over his shoulders and across his chest.

  “We’re gonna run three to four times a week like that. Every other day or so. Building up your endurance and stamina will only help you in a fight, but that’s not what I want to focus on for you.”

  “Oh? What do you want to focus on?”

  “First of all, I want to focus on you getting away from a violent situation. We’re going to work on you recognizing and escaping violence before it can start, or getting away from it once it’s started. I want you to be able to disengage and outrun an assailant. There’s no reason for you to engage with a dude trying to hurt you. You call 9-1-1. That’s what we’re paid for.”

  “Truthfully, I’m relieved,” I admitted. “I want to be able to defend myself, sure, but I’m not a fighter. I never have been.”

  “I’m less concerned with you being physically prepared as I am with you being mentally prepared. We need to work on that. Get to where you can think through a situation, to where you don’t panic.”

  “Okay,” I said nodding.

  “This is about survival for you. Survive and thrive.”

  “I don’t know about that last part,” I said, miserably. “Lately, I feel like I’ve just been barely hanging on.”

  He lightly gripped my elbow and stopped me just outside the lobby door. I looked at him and he said, “What happened to you was a lot more than most people ever have to go through in their entire lives, let alone all at once like you did. You’re doing pretty well, all things considered.”

  “I don’t feel like it,” I confessed.

  “Not surprised, Chica, but I promise, you are.”

  “Thanks,” I murmured, at a loss for what else to say.

  We went up and he handed me the black-and-blue gym bag with my things in it. I murmured another quiet thanks.

  “No problem.You go on and shower first.”

  “Okay.”

  I took my time and luxuriated in the hot water, but I did make sure to save him some, and put my hair up in a plastic clip to keep it from getting the back of my fresh nightshirt wet. I pulled on some dark heather-gray leggings on under it, for modesty’s sake, and rolled the long sleeves back up to my elbows before I padded out of my bedroom and into the kitchen. I heard Golden’s shower start up midway through my getting dressed and contented myself with preparing dinner.

  I liked to cook, I just hadn’t had much occasion to since finding myself single again. That, and I’d found myself lacking in the appetite department more often than not.

  He returned to the kitchen in a pair of low-slung lounge pants that looked like they were about to abandon ship from the ridges of his hip bones any second, and I fought not to stare. Blushing furiously, I turned back to the stove and shook a little pepper over the stir-fry I was making.

  “Like what you see?” he asked mildly, as if he were asking about the weather.

  I turned sharply, giving him a bit of a glare, and replied, “I don’t know how to answer that.”

  He raised an eyebrow, a cocky smile on his face. “How about honestly?”


  “Does it matter?” I asked, trying to weasel out of answering.

  “To me, it does.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s nice to feel appreciated?” he hazarded.

  I closed my eyes for a second, my nose tingling in that familiar way that said tears threatened, but I resolutely blamed it on the pepper in my own mind. Still, it didn’t stop my mouth from betraying me. I said out loud, “I wouldn’t know.”

  “What, that it’s nice to be appreciated?”

  “I haven’t been, for a very long time. So, I guess so? Why are we even having this conversation?”

  “Because I caught you lookin’, and went fishing for a compliment.”

  I snorted and laughed asking, “Are you always this frank?”

  “No, I’m always this Golden.” I turned around, taking my eyes off the stove top for a second, to see him perched on top of one of the tall stools up under the counter. He smiled at me and winked and I rolled my eyes.

  “Is this how you pick up your drunk girls at the bar? By being a big damn dork?” I asked and almost immediately wanted to take it back. I mean, how rude!

  He grinned and said, “Dork? Ouch. You may have just hurt my feeling.”

  “Feeling?”

  “Yeah, all one of ‘em I got left. Uncle Sam beat the rest of ‘em out of me a long time ago.”

  I shook my head, smiling a touch ruefully, and said, “I’m sorry, that was really rude, when you’ve been nothing but helpful lately.” I turned back to the stove and stirred the food to keep it from sticking or burning.

  I caught him shaking his head out of the corner of my eye and he said, “Don’t apologize. I’ve earned some of it. What I’m more interested in knowing is…” he trailed off and I cocked my head.

  “What?” I waited but he didn’t say anything. I made sure the food was okay and turned around and jumped, he’d come around the island and wasn’t too far from me. He had a curious look on his face and held out a hand, palm up in an invitation to take it.