Charlie pried her eyes open, groaning at the sight of the room’s decor. At least without the aftereffects of alcohol this time, she was stunningly clear on where she was. That didn’t make the reality of it any better. She bit back a groan at the feel of Shane’s hard body lying beside her—a groan of arousal or irritation at herself, who knew? She’d decide later. Right now she was distracted by the feel of Shane’s hard chest as he half-spooned her, one leg draped casually over hers, almost pinning her to the bed. Flashes of the night before ran through her mind, causing her eyes to flutter closed and a real groan to escape her lips. Shane over her, his face a picture of ecstasy as he’d thrust inside of her. It was just about the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. Not that she’d admit a single part of it to him, or anyone. Besides, she was sure Shane would object to being called beautiful. The rest of the guys at the house, however. Ugh.

She moved her arm, slapping a hand over her eyes. They’d dropped the subject mercifully fast the first time she and Shane had spent the night together. There had been alcohol involved that night, plus it was the first time she and Shane had ever exchanged more than a friendly hug. She had no such excuse this time, on both counts. The only thing those two nights had in common was that they both happened after equally shitty days. Other memories slammed into her, these just as recent but far less pleasant. Charlie sat up and pulled herself out of the bed. She didn’t bother trying not to disturb Shane this time. The man could sleep through a hurricane. At the station it could be a right pain in the ass when he nearly slept through dispatch call-outs, but here she was glad. With everything churning through her mind, Charlie needed some alone time before facing the world. Screw that, before facing Shane.

What the hell was she doing? She had enough going on in her life right now without bringing yet more complication into it. Besides, everything she touched lately seemed to turn to shit. Just look at Ellen Monahan. Charlie swept up a robe lying on the end of the bed and padded out into the kitchen. What the hell was that woman up to? There was no way she’d hurt her, and she’d been exceedingly polite, despite Mrs. Monahan hurling abuse at everyone within earshot.

Searching for the coffee, Charlie paused, her eyes narrowing. In her fluster the day before in the chief’s office, she hadn’t been able to think properly, but now it was clear. There was no evidence of any elbow dislocation when they’d treated her. Monahan had barely even complained of any pain there, instead focusing on her head, which had made solid contact with an airbag during the accident. Contrary to their name, it wasn’t like landing on a soft pillow of air, cushioning you from the crash. Instead, you usually felt like you’d come into direct and immediate contact with a surface only slightly less hard than the one you were trying to avoid in the first place.

It had been a busy scene, and Monahan had been a difficult patient, but there was no way Charlie would have missed an elbow dislocation. It had taken days for Monahan to report it. Had it been in the ER report? She’d have to check. Surely HQ would have thought to do the same. She grimaced, finally finding the coffee and grabbing a mug. Instant. It’d have to do. The way bureaucracy ran these days, it wouldn’t surprise her at all if Monahan had just shown up at the offices with her arm in a sling and they’d taken her statement then passed it on without any fact checking.

Scooping a spoon of dried grounds into a mug, Charlie yelped and jerked when arms encircled her waist from behind. She watched the little coffee granules skitter across the counter as Shane’s lips found her neck, brushing kisses there as he spoke into her ear. “Good morning, Beautiful.”

They were both very lucky that she hadn’t found the kettle yet, or she might have spilled something potentially more painful than coffee grounds. Charlie counted to three and then stepped sideways, disentangling herself from his hold. “Morning.” She picked up the mug, holding it in front of her like a shield. “Do you own a kettle?”

Shane grinned. “Somewhere, but I don’t usually drink that crap. There’s a cafe a few blocks away that does a much better brew, along with a kickass breakfast. Want to go try it out?”

She hesitated. If she was going to be honest, she’d have to admit that she wanted to grab her clothes and bolt, but she had a feeling Shane wasn’t going to let her go quite so easily this time. At least in the cafe, they’d be fully dressed and in public. As much as she’d like to have more faith in herself, it seemed that every time she and Shane were alone lately, they ended up ripping each other’s clothes off. A little buffer between them would be a good thing. “Sure,” she said, smiling as widely as she could without making him suspicious. “Just let me grab my stuff.”

* * *

Two days later and Charlie was about to kill him. Shane had finally dropped her back at her car two mornings ago, after a leisurely breakfast. They’d lingered over eggs, bacon, and waffles, talking about mostly safe topics—funny stories they’d heard at work, where they’d grown up, gone to school, childhood stories. All safe, and yet it was more than Charlie had ever told anyone before. Which was why when she’d finally closed the door behind her late that morning, she’d leaned back against it, closed her eyes, and just reveled in the silence. She had a whole afternoon, and the next day, too, all stretching out in front of her before she had to be back on shift again, if she was back at 81 again. Her shifts had been relatively steady lately, but the shit with Mrs. Monahan might have stirred things up. Surely HQ would at least contact her directly if they wanted her to report to a different house in two days. She’d closed her eyes, thunking her head against the door. Or not report at all. But she couldn’t imagine she’d be forced on leave, at least until they’d completed a full investigation. Her union rep would help with that, at least.

Instead of spending her free time stressing about stuff she couldn’t do anything about—for the moment, anyway—Charlie had shed her clothes and stepped from her front door to her bathroom, completely naked. She’d showered at Shane’s, but she’d spent more time trying to make it look like she wasn’t watching the water sluice over his naked body than she’d spent actually showering herself. A long, hot one was just what the doctor ordered. Oh, God. Despite being alone in her apartment, Charlie’s face had burned at the thought. No wonder she and Shane ended up in bed together at every opportunity. She couldn’t even control her thoughts.

After blushing her way through the shower, she’d changed into lounge clothes, and sat down in front of the TV with a large tub of cinnamon buns ice cream. Breakfast food as ice cream . . . where could you possibly go wrong? She’d been six episodes into Freaks and Geeks on Netflix, and finally starting to relax and lose the funk when her cell had vibrated along the coffee table. She’d picked it up and swiped to see Shane’s name staring back at her on the screen. A text.

Just checking you got home okay.

Charlie had rolled her eyes, typing back. Yes, nothing happened in the two miles between the firehouse and here.

She’d dropped the phone back on the table and had just un-paused the TV when her phone skittered on the glass tabletop again. What you doing?

Shane had either been bored or had lost his mind. Her fingers had moved over the keyboard. Watching the best show on earth. You?

What? Is there a game on today?

Oh, the boy had much to learn. Before her brain had realized what she was doing—clearly, because then she wouldn’t have fucking done it—her fingers had tapped out an invitation, and less than an hour later, Shane was sitting on her couch, eating her ice cream. She’d tried to be cranky, but when they finished the show and moved on to Cheers, she couldn’t help but get in a better mood. The show was old school but funny as hell. The company hadn’t been bad, either.

Shane had left later that night with nothing more than a soft kiss, leaving Charlie half relieved and half wondering if she was losing her touch. That question was answered when he’d shown up to take her out to breakfast again less than ten hours later. She hadn’t slept much, between worrying about the deposition she’d no doubt have coming up after Monahan’s complaint and wondering why the hell Shane hadn’t attempted more than a quick, chaste kiss. Now, there she was, standing at her front door in fugly flannel pajamas, her hair sticking up every which way, and probably bags the size of Texas under her eyes. And yet Shane had just smiled and invited himself inside, plonking his butt on her couch and telling her he’d wait until she was ready to go.

She’d managed to beg him off sometime after lunch with the explanation that she needed to get some errands done and a few loads of laundry, but when he’d rapped on her door again at 6:00 the next morning, offering to drive her to shift . . . he was a dead man. Shane just didn’t know it yet.

He looked over at her from the driver’s seat of the rig. “Why are you so cranky this morning?”

“Uhh, I don’t know. Probably because I barely got any time to myself over the last two days, and then I was up until nearly two a.m.”

His face changed, turning concerned. “Why couldn’t you sleep?”

Charlie snapped her jaw shut. He could stew on that one for a while. They were forced together again for the next twenty-four hours, and after that, maybe she could finally get some peace and quiet.

She sighed, bringing a hand up to eye-level and studying her nails. Not that the company had been bad. It had actually been nice having Shane around. It just made her resolution to avoid any more complications in her life right now that much more difficult.

But now was not the time to talk about it. They were on their way to another shitty call. A woman had been found in her apartment, already dead, and for a couple of days, by the sound of it. Her young son had been found with the body and so the cops had called out an ambulance to treat him as necessary then transport him for a full checkup at the hospital, until his next of kin could be discovered and located. As much as she hated calls like this, at least this was a victim she could help. One that might even appreciate her being there, even though he’d be too young to say it.

When they arrived at the scene, they were waved through the crime tape and she wove through the flashing lights, casting a glow off the buildings’ walls even in the early morning light. A police officer handed her the child—a young boy who couldn’t be much older than two or three—and the child wrapped his arms around Charlie’s neck, grabbing her in a death grip. She sat down at the back of the ambulance and cooed softly in his ear while Shane surreptitiously checked him over, until the boy had finally felt comfortable enough to let go. He was sitting in her lap and playing with her stethoscope when Scott Wilder walked up to them. He was a detective with Monroe PD and a friend of Seth’s.

“Umm, guys. Can I talk to you for a minute?” His eyes flicked from Charlie to the boy in her lap, and she hugged him a little closer. What more was she going to be asked to bear today? “It’s not about the kid, Charlie,” Scott said, and she blew out a breath of relief, until his words caught up with her.

Shane turned, positioning himself just to the left of her, half covering her and the boy with his body. “What’s going on, Scott?” he said.

Scott held something out, and Charlie squinted to see it properly. An evidence bag, sealed and with a piece of paper inside. “We found this on the body.”

Sweat beaded on the back of her neck. She passed the boy to Shane and then stepped forward, her hand trembling as she took the bag from Scott’s grasp. Inside was another piece of torn-off paper.

Miss me, Charlie? I’m just getting started.