Curran

Declan continues to whisper in low tones. But I stop listening when my eyes lock on Tess. Shit. What the hell is she doing here? Declan was supposed to keep her at the office!

Like I goddamn need this. I don’t want her to see me lose my shit. And after a week of getting grilled, a week of seeing Joey sitting in his wheelchair—listening to every word coming out of my mouth, reliving every millisecond of that night—I’m seriously ready to tear someone in half.

Tess tries to snake her way forward, only for Simon to snag her by the wrist and tug her back. He’s saying something to her. Like me, she’s not listening, her widening eyes searching my face as the chaos explodes around us.

“Goddamn pig!” someone yells, this time a woman.

“Who you calling a pig, you worthless piece of shit.” A rookie sheriff’s deputy has had more than he can take, but the growing mutters of the surrounding deputies tell me he doesn’t stand alone. Maybe that’s what I need: a long, hard look at how I’m riling everyone up.

I take a deep breath, and another, trying to get it together. But remnants of how bad the defense counsel ripped into me flood my mind. Every detail of how I screwed up was thrown in my face—every detail—all with Joey front and center. The anger and resentment shadowing his face during the trial was all directed at me. Not once did he look at the defendant.

It doesn’t take a genius to know he blames me for putting him in that chair.

And he’s right.

Someone cuts his eyes my way—I recognize him as the brother of the defendant. He blinks once and lunges at the deputy, stirring the two family members on either side of him to attack.

Something silver flashes to my left. It’s then all hell breaks loose.

I should have barreled toward the perp; instead I freeze, trying to force the word out.

Knife.

It lodges in my throat.

Knife.

I break out in a sweat.

Goddamnit, knife. Just say it!

Two deputies respond, slamming the perp to the floor and inciting an all-out brawl. Tess screams. My head whips in her direction, her terror forcing me to act.

She and Simon huddle in the corner, away from where the judge’s deputy is lying on his side, curling inward to protect his weapon against the two men kicking him in the stomach.

I charge toward them. Bone crunches beneath my swinging fist when another perp tries to intercept me. He crashes to the floor, giving a smaller deputy the chance to cuff him. She has him, but the other two perps still have the judge’s guard.

In the tough Philly streets where I was raised, you learn to fight or you learn to get your ass kicked. The O’Briens are fighters, and as one of them, I’ve learned to inflict some serious damage.

My uppercut sends the bigger of the two assailants flying. Big man, glass jaw. The leaner one hurls himself at me. Tess screams again when I knock him out. One punch. That’s all it takes.

I dodge a fourth offender and wrench his arm back, kicking his feet out from under him.

Him I cuff, then I lug him to his feet and spout his Miranda. My eyes sweep my surroundings as adrenaline pumps through my veins, readying me for another attack. It doesn’t come. Thank Christ, more deputies have arrived and are quickly regaining order.

As I take in the blood and the swelling faces, it’s clear that the effort to secure the courthouse didn’t come easy. Shit. How did a knife get past security? The press is going to be all over this mess.

Simon stumbles forward when the perp I’m restraining is hauled away. “That was amazing,” he says. “Holy shit, dude, you’re one badass cop.”

“Oh, my God. Oh, my God.” Tess’s shrill voice cuts through the sounds of the angry crowd and furious barks from the deputies herding them out. “Are you all right?”

Despite everything, I feel myself begin to smile. “Yeah, I’m—”

My voice cuts off when I realize she’s not talking to me.

Her hands clutch Declan’s arm like she’s afraid he’s going to die. Seeing how he’s standing there grinning, I’m pretty sure he’s going to make it.

A couple of drops of blood trickle down his nose and onto his crisp white shirt. He chuckles. “I’m fine, Contessa, really. Just caught an elbow to the face. It happens when you’re forced to throw down.”

“You were so brave,” she says, her doe eyes blinking up, at him. She removes the paisley scarf from around her neck and dabs his nose, even though it’s already stopped bleeding. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.”

What. Da. Fuck?

He lifts the scarf from her grasp, smiling down at her and patting her arm. Jesus, help me. It’s all I can do not to finish breaking his nose.

“I’ve seriously never seen anything like that, dude,” Simon continues, his breath fast and his voice filled with excitement. “I mean you were like a machine. I thought that Jackie Chan stuff only happened in movies!”

Declan has Tess. I have Simon. Somehow, this shit doesn’t seem fair.

Tess’s eyes whip open when she finally notices me. She races over, pulling at my torn shirt. “Your brother hurled a man against the wall who charged me, but he’s hurt and needs immediate medical attention.”

Tell it to my bleeding knuckles. I turn to Declan. “Wow. You threw one guy against the wall?” I motion to the scrawny teen being led away. “That one right there? You’re a goddamn warrior, Deck.”

He nods like he believes me. “I know.”

The guard assigned to the judge’s chambers is being cared for by two EMTs, even though he’s pissed as all hell over it. Good thing he held tight to his gun, or else…

I shake the thought away. For the most part, things are slowing down. That doesn’t mean we’re safe. I clasp Tess’s elbow. “Come on. I need to get you and Declan back to the office.”

I move them out and away, holding tight to Tess while keeping tabs on Declan. It’s not until we reach the DA’s office that she notices my shredded hands.

She screams, pointing at them. “Oh, God. You’re bleeding too!”

Before I can tell her I’m fine, she runs out like the building’s on fire. “I don’t think she’s good with blood,” I say to Declan.

“Not even a little bit.” He gives me a long, hard look. “How’d it go?” he asks.

I shrug. “Shitty. But trial’s over. Jury came back quick due to the preponderance of evidence. Sentencing was today, which is why everyone lost it. Judge Bronson’s all freed up to hear the Montenegro case. You should get your trial date soon.”

He ignores my last comment. “Was Joey there?”

Although I keep my face neutral, the muscles of my neck tighten like a noose. “Yup. All week. He was led out by his family when things got heated following the sentencing.”

“Did you talk to him?”

“No. Twice I tried to approach him. Both times he rolled away from me in his wheelchair.”

“He needs time, Curran.”

“Time won’t give him back the use of his legs.”

The door crashes open, and Tess stumbles into the room with a first aid kit clutched in her arms. “Declan, Detective Wendt needs to see you in the interrogation room. They arrested the gumad and are speaking to her now. They said they have enough for a search and seizure, but need to conference with you. I’ll get started on the paperwork as soon as I see to Officer O’Brien.”

For the first time since he started on this case, my brother hesitates. And it really pisses me off. “Go,” I snap. “This is the chance you’ve been waiting for.”

He snags his jacket and hurries out, but not before shooting me one last glance.

Tess cracks open the kit and immediately sprays my knuckles with white foam. It sizzles my raw flesh, burning its way down to the bone. I jump and shake out my hands. “What the hell is that?”

“Antiseptic.” She sprays me again, this time with more.

“Shit, are you sure?” My skin is on fire.

“Of course I’m sure,” she says. She glances at the bottle, her eyes widening. “Oh, no. No, no, no. Wash your hands—Jesus Christ, wash your hands now!”

“It’s not antiseptic?”

She falls all over herself, trying to lead me to the sink tucked in the corner of Declan’s office. The sink’s tiny; my scorching hands barely fit. In her haste, Tess blasts the water, soaking us both.

“Not hot—cold—cold, damnit!”

“I’m trying!” She fumbles with the faucets, completely flustered. “Is that better?” She reaches for the soap and lathers me up.

I yank my hands back. “It was until you added soap!”

She thrusts them back under the water. “Trust me, you need soap!” She reaches for more, her body trembling.

“What did you spray on my hands?” She doesn’t answer, continuing her task and averting her gaze. “Tess, what the hell did you spray me with?”

She drops her hands to her sides. “Something that shouldn’t have been in there. I borrowed the kit from one of the secretaries. Had I known she would fill it with random medication I never would have—”

“What did you spray me with?” I growl.

She sighs with defeat. “Wart remover.”

“Wart remover?”

She adjusts her spot-covered glasses. “Watch your tone, Officer.”

“Watch my tone? You sprayed me with wart remover!”

“I was trying to help—”

“I don’t have goddamn warts!”

She lifts her chin. “Well, I should hope not,” she says, her face heating.

Oh, I see….

I turn off the water and reach for the paper towels. My skin continues to throb, but I don’t let it show, my attention now solely on her.

She points to the sink. “Y-you should keep rinsing them. I’m not certain what adverse effects the medication may have on your delicate skin—”

“I don’t have delicate skin. But you already know that.” I clasp her shoulders and pull her to me, kissing her softly, holding her gently, allowing her the opportunity to break away.

But she doesn’t.

Her hands travel across my forearms to carefully hold my wrists, surrendering to my tongue as it circles hers. It’s one of those kisses girls talk to death about: slow, delicate, unremitting, the kind of kiss that lasts all day and ends after hours in bed.

My lips linger over hers until I pull back and leave her mouth completely. “I’m sorry I didn’t call,” I whisper.

She lowers her chin when I release her. “You seemed occupied.”

“Yeah. I was.”

She looks at me then with enough sadness in her expression to tighten my gut. “I take it the testimony on behalf of your friend was this week?”

I almost don’t answer. But she saw me in court, so there’s no denying it now. “That’s right.”

“It must have been difficult,” she says, quietly.

I tighten my jaw and stay silent.

“And stressful, I’m sure,” she adds.

My mouth remains shut. I know she’s trying to get me to talk, but I can’t give her what she wants.

Still she waits, and for a long time doesn’t move. Finally, when she realizes I’m not going to open up, she says, “If I’d known, I would have been there.”

When I do nothing more than breathe, she inches away and returns to where the first aid kit is teetering on the edge of Declan’s desk.

“I didn’t want you there,” I admit. Her back stiffens. “I didn’t want anyone there.”

She shuts the lid to the kit. “I see.”

“No you don’t.”

I don’t miss the hurt in her voice, despite how quietly she speaks. “I would if you’d just let me.”

Maybe she’s right. But I don’t tell her that.

She lifts the box and heads for the door, reaching for the handle.

“I should’ve called,” I repeat. I’m trying to keep her here, but when her shattered expression meets mine, I know it’s too late.

She turns just enough to meet me square in the eye. “Don’t bother. I told you, I have enough wrong in my life.”