Cole started the trek home at the end of a long shift. His legs weighed a ton after pounding the streets of Manhattan for the last twelve hours, and every bone in his spine felt fused together. It had been a shitty day, one of those days where he wondered if his efforts made one jot of difference to the eventual outcome. No matter how many months and years passed, he was still arresting youths who’d made a bad decision that would affect the rest of their lives, and picking up lifelong criminals who’d been out of prison less than a week. Was it really worth the effort?

Yes, of course it is. More than worth it. For every person swallowed up by the system, he had a chance of saving another, of pointing out that an alternative to their pre-defined life existed. That they had choices. He needed a vacation, that was all. Maybe he should take the boat out. He hadn’t found the time to do that for a while, and he was paying a shitload in mooring fees. May as well make use of it.

He considered asking Millie whether she wanted to go out on the river for the day. He’d kept a polite distance since their altercation a few weeks earlier while praying that she’d make the first move. She hadn’t. When she’d reappeared in his life, his hopes had been raised of a third chance with her—even though he could hardly call the first two chances. Standing aside while not one, but two other guys swooped in and stole the woman he wanted didn’t make him gallant. It made him a dick.

Promising to stay back and give her space to work through her shit wasn’t working. Maybe it was time to ease out from the shadows, get her to notice him. At high school he hadn’t even tried to tell her how he felt, and look how that had worked out. If he continued acting the same way over and over, he’d get the same damned result. Decision made. He’d ask her. If she said no, he’d deal.

Sure you will.

He stopped off at a grocery store close to home to pick up dinner and a pack of beers. As he left the store he spotted Millie across the street. His spirits lifted, and he was about to jog across to meet her when a tall, broad guy stepped out from behind her, his hand firmly at her elbow. Cole’s body tensed as blood rushed to his head, and white spots danced in front of his eyes. Fuck’s sake. He’d read her wrong. All this time he’d been giving her space to get over her broken marriage, hoping she’d notice him. Instead, she’d moved on to someone else. Yet again, his stupid reticence to step up and take what he wanted meant he’d missed out for a third fucking time.

He angrily turned away, his plan of a quiet night shifting into finding the nearest bar and getting blind drunk. But then he hesitated, turned back around, peered closer. The guy had his head bent, a navy-blue baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. He was murmuring something in her ear. Cole watched her body stiffen. She tried to tug her arm away, but the guy tightened his grip. The man’s head lifted and he glanced left and right, allowing Cole to get a good look. A shot of ice rushed through his veins.

Tanner.

Fuck.

He didn’t think. He acted.

He dropped his shopping and sprinted across four lanes of busy traffic. Taxi drivers blasted their horns, and he slammed the palm of his hand on the hood of a car that almost mowed him down, cursing the fact he’d gotten changed out of his uniform before setting off for home. Not that he was scared of Tanner in the slightest, but faced with a cop rather than a man, it may have made the upcoming conflict easier to deal with.

“Millie?”

Her chin kicked up, and her eyes latched on to his. They widened and then flashed with…relief? Regardless, she seemed fucking glad to see him.

Tanner narrowed his gaze as Cole got closer, and then recognition sparked in his eyes.

“Cole Brook. Fuck me. Or is it Calum? I never could tell you two apart. Good to see you, man.” He thrust out his hand. His wide, too-bright smile, so cocky, so fucking fake, jacked up Cole’s anger. He let Tanner’s hand linger in the air.

“Tanner,” he said, his tone short and brusque.

Tanner’s hand fell to his side, and his face hardened. “Sorry we can’t stop. Millie and I have things to discuss.”

He went to move off, his grip still firmly on Millie’s arm. Cole stood in front of him, barring his way.

Tanner’s nostrils flared. “What the fuck you doing, man? Move.”

Cole didn’t even acknowledge he’d spoken. He turned his attention to Millie.

“Do you want to go with him?”

Spittle gathered at the corner of Tanner’s mouth, and he almost tripped over his words. “She’s my fucking wife. She’ll go where I say. Now move before I put you down.”

Adrenaline rushed through him, giving him an edgy, twitchy feeling, emotions he was well used to in his day job. He rolled back his shoulders. “Dial it back, Tanner.” Cole widened his stance and thrust out his chest. His arms were loose at his sides.

“Fuck you,” Tanner spat, his own stance moving aggressively.

Oh, here we go.

Cole sneered. “Go ahead then, dickhead. Throw one.”

Tanner’s fists clenched, and then he swung. It took Cole about a second to dodge his attempt at a punch and get him in a headlock.

“Stop it!” Millie shouted as people on the street paused to stare at the commotion, then quickly lost interest. Scuffles on the streets of New York weren’t exactly unusual.

Cole met her panicked gaze, his own full of what he hoped was reassurance, while Tanner twisted his body, trying to escape the tight hold Cole had him in. It wouldn’t do any good—Cole had training and composure, Tanner had anger—there was only ever going to be one winner.

“Do you want me to let him go?” Cole asked her.

She nodded.

He released Tanner, who staggered backward, straightened, and then poked his finger in Cole’s direction. “I’m pressing charges.”

Cole grinned. “Good luck with that.” He didn’t expand on why. Let Tanner wonder.

Tanner went to grab Millie’s arm once more, but Cole got in between them. “Whoa there. Touch her again and I’ll break your face.”

“She’s my wife.”

Cole smiled slowly. “Yeah, so you said.” He turned to Millie. “Do you want to go with him?” he reiterated, because she hadn’t gotten the chance to answer the first time he’d asked.

She hesitated, inhaled a breath, and then gave the smallest shake of her head, followed by a reaffirming, if quiet, “No.”

Suppressing a triumphant grin, Cole turned back to Tanner. “You heard the lady. Now, if you hurry, you might just catch the last Greyhound back to Chicago.”

“I’m going nowhere,” Tanner said, looking past Cole toward Millie. “Not until we’ve talked.”

Cole inserted his body between them, cutting off Tanner’s view of Millie—and hers of him. He spun on his heel and marched down the street. When Tanner disappeared around the corner, Cole spotted Millie lose her balance. He caught her around the waist.

“Hey, steady now. I’ve got you.”

She looked up at him, and the expression on her face—like a dog that had been repeatedly kicked by its master—tore at his heart. She gripped his arm, her fingernails digging into his skin, and rested her head against his chest. He wasn’t going to lie. It felt so good to finally have her in his arms, leaning on him.

“You’re safe,” he murmured, his lips in her hair. “You’re safe with me.”

Her grip eased as though his words had resonated and she believed them. He was giving her comfort and a sense of security, and she was taking it. Right then he was making a goddamn difference, at least to her.

“I’m here, Millie. If you need me, I’m right here.”

She leaned back, her eyes finally meeting his. And then he saw it, bubbling to the surface in her dark mocha irises. Trust. His actions had made her realize he was someone she could confide in.

She sighed. “I need a drink. And I don’t mean coffee.”

He smiled at her unguarded moment of honesty. It showed him a glimpse of the girl he’d once known and fallen for. What’s more, she’d noticed him. At long last. When she’d needed him, he’d been there. He curled his fingers around hers, and when she didn’t pull away, a warm glow swept through his chest. “I know just the place.”