Tess

Curran stays close to me, watching everything with subtle scrutiny. I do my best to keep on task and hurry to the next floor, where courtrooms thirteen and fourteen are situated. My knee continues to throb, a reminder of how easily Curran can rattle me. “Crazy sex”—that’s what he called our night together. Yes, I thought so, too. But to hear him say it…well, let’s just say my knee wasn’t the only thing that throbbed.

Ahead of us, another sheriff’s officer stands guard between the hall to Judge Bronson’s private chambers and the small door leading directly to the raised platform where he presides.

Curran’s broad shoulders tighten when he catches sight of the guard. He seems to know everyone in uniform, just like they appear to know him. But for some reason, his presence causes everyone to tense, which surprises me. Curran was always “that guy” everyone wanted to be around. “The party doesn’t start until O’Brien’s in the house,” his frat buddies used to say.

Yet judging by everyone’s reaction, that party is long over.

Both men lock eyes and nod stiffly, neither particularly cordial. While the sheriff’s deputies take their positions seriously, they’re generally very pleasant—friendly, even—especially to staff they recognize. That hasn’t been the case today, especially in Curran’s presence.

I stop near the double doors leading into courtroom thirteen. “Is something wrong?” I ask him quietly.

“Nope,” he responds, continuing to take in the area. “Come on. Let’s get what you need and then back to the office.”

I don’t know Curran. Not really. And while he keeps his face neutral, I can’t help thinking he’s lying to me. I don’t press and proceed forward, hurrying when I catch sight of the wall clock.

Despite the late hour, Judge Bronson’s courtroom is bustling with activity. Curran stays directly behind me. For all he joked in the stairwell, he was all business from the moment we crossed into the common areas.

I smile at the sheriff’s officer standing guard and show him my badge, which he scans with an expert eye. “Hello. I’m Contessa Newart. I’m here to pick up paperwork Judge Bronson signed.”

“He’s in court hearing a motion for bail. His clerk knows you’re coming?”

“That’s my understanding. I’m here on behalf of Assistant District Attorney Declan O’Brien.”

“You catch that, Simon?” the sheriff’s officer calls over his shoulder.

“Yes. I’m coming,” Judge Bronson’s law clerk responds from the open door to chambers.

Simon attends a different law school from me, and while we work in separate offices, our roles allow us to interact fairly frequently. Our talks are typically brief and revolve around legal matters, with the exception of our last few exchanges. Although he’s sweet, I’m beginning to think Simon has more than a professional interest in me. I hope I’m wrong. He’s a nice guy, but the last thing I need is another distraction. And with Curran at my side, I’m more than a little distracted.

“Hey, Contessa,” Simon calls. He slows to a stop at the sight of Curran, taking a moment to smooth his hair and adjust his jacket before continuing forward. Despite his obvious hesitation, he manages to give me a bright smile. “I’ve been waiting for you to show.”

I smile back. “Yes, sorry about the delay.”

“You can make it up to me with coffee.” His smile fades in time with mine. “I mean a cup of coffee that you bring to me. We don’t have to go out together to get it. Unless you want to.”

“Jesus,” the sheriff’s officer mutters.

“I’ll be sure to bring you a coffee next time,” I offer, well aware that Curran’s watching our exchange. “Again, I apologize for making you wait.”

“No problem.” His attention bounces to Curran. “So, who’s this? Your boyfriend?” he asks with a laugh.

I don’t need a mirror to know my face is red. Nor do I need to turn around to know Curran doesn’t appreciate a laugh at his expense. “He’s the police officer assigned to help me,” I answer, hoping he’ll leave it at that.

“Okay. Good,” Simon responds, his smile returning like I somehow made him feel better.

I motion to the folder in his hand. “Are those the documents Declan needs?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” He passes me the folder. “If you have any questions, call me directly—anytime. At home if necessary. You have my number, right?”

I flip through the paperwork to make sure everything is in order. “Yes. Thank you.”

“So you’ll call me?” he asks, sounding hopeful.

I glance up, feeling Curran edge a little closer. “Ah, if Declan needs anything, either he or I will be in touch.”

“Oh,” he says.

“Christ,” the sheriff’s officer mumbles.

I place the folder inside my large purse. Instead of returning to chambers, Simon excuses himself and rushes toward the doorway that leads to the judge’s raised platform. “What’s up?” the sheriff’s officer asks him.

“The judge is pissed,” Simon answers, grimacing. “He wants me in on this hearing and the one to follow. It’s going to be a late night.”

The guard calls in the update as Simon disappears and the heavy wooden door shuts behind him. Given how loud the judge is yelling, I hear him despite the door’s thickness. “Did you not hear me, counselor?” he hollers. “The defendant is charged with shooting a police officer. Request for bail denied!”

The judge’s gavel slams down hard enough to echo, but it’s Curran’s stony face that gives me pause. I glance to the closed door and then back at him. “What is it?”

“Perp shot a police officer, that’s what,” the sheriff’s officer answers, staring past Curran. “His pussy defense attorney wants him out, claiming this is his first offense. Attorneys suck dick,” he adds with a grumble before returning his focus on me. “No offense, ma’am.”

“No offense taken.” Who am I kidding? I’m offended all over the place.

Curran’s already hard expression solidifies to an icy tundra. “We done here?”

My attention cuts to the closed courtroom door. The judge’s booming voice pummels against it like a barrage of thrown stones. “Yes. We’re done.”

I take a step forward, yet the sheriff’s officer’s voice holds me in place. “He was just a kid,” he says.

I turn around. “The police officer?”

“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “New to the force, just getting his feet wet.”

“I’m sorry.” I was going to ask Curran if he knew the police officer who was hurt, but given his tightening stance, it’s obvious he does. My hand reaches out to touch his arm before I realize what I’m doing. I quickly drop it to my side, but not before he notices.

He frowns, but I look away from him and address the sheriff’s officer. “Thank you for your time,” I tell him. He nods, but focuses directly on Curran.

Okay. I’m not sure what’s happening, but I all but run past the courtroom, knowing I need to put some space between us and whatever’s going on in that hearing. The attorneys and those in the audience are now screaming at one another and the judge is threatening to hold the defendant in contempt.

We snake through three more halls before either of us speaks again. “What’s our situation going to be like?” I ask him. “This situation here. With us. At night.” I throw my hands in the air when he smirks and practically laughs at me. No, this gorgeous hunk of man has no effect on me. No, not at all.

“You know what I mean,” I add. The strain caused by our trip to court lifts a little. For that I’m thankful; I only wish it hadn’t come at my expense.

“Tess, relax. I’m only here to make sure you stay safe.”

I sigh. “It’s not that.”

“Then what’s bugging you?”

I glance around, worried who might hear me. “It makes me uncomfortable knowing someone is watching me all the time.”

“You’re shy. I get it, but—”

“I’m not shy.” He looks at me. “I’m not,” I insist.

“Then how come you barely spoke to me, back in you-know-where?”

He chuckles when my face heats. But he doesn’t understand that what he asks isn’t easy for me to explain. I don’t want to admit how much he intimidated me, or how hard it was watching him flirt with everyone but me—or that I pretended not to notice him and acted like I wasn’t attracted to him, because in truth, it hurt knowing I was the one girl he wasn’t drawn to.

I don’t remind him that those few times I did try to speak with him when we first met, his attention quickly drifted to those pretty girls who had more to say, who weren’t so awkward, and whose figures captivated his interest more than mine did.

So yes, I might have avoided eye contact, stayed quiet, and kept my distance, but that didn’t mean I was shy. It meant he had hurt my feelings…even though he probably didn’t mean to.

“I mostly keep to myself,” I manage, hoping it’s enough.

Curran’s attention stays ahead. “All right,” he says, although I’m not sure he believes me.

I pretend to search for something in my purse, only because it’s hard to keep my expression casual when I think about how hard things were for me then. “So, how will things work exactly? Will you be with me every day?”

“No. We’ll work in shifts. Me and three other badges. It’s my understanding the other two cops will always be different, but me and Lu will be your regular eyes.”

“Lou? Who’s he?”

“Lu’s a she. Her name’s Lucy McCarthy and she’s been part of the Philly PD for close to thirty years. Most of us boys in blue—and the women, too—we go by our last names. Lu’s always gone by Lu. She’s worked the streets forever and has taught in every academy from here to Harrisburg. Everyone with a badge knows her, and either loves or hates her. But one thing: we all respect her.”

I consider his words. “Why do people hate her? Because she’s a woman?”

Curran barks out a laugh. “Damn, Tess. You skipped right past the love and respect and dove headfirst into the hate. You haven’t changed a bit.”

I tighten my hold on my purse strap. “What’s that’s supposed to mean?” I ask, feeling myself grow defensive.

He offers me a sexy smile, which simply irritates the hell out of me. Truly it does. “Oh, nothing,” he says, keeping his grin. “Just that you’re still as negative and uptight as ever.”

“I’m not negative.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“Or uptight,” I insist.

“Yup. That, too.”

“I am not. I’ll have you know, I’ve done a great amount of research on sexism and know that despite the changes in our judicial system, laws, and increased awareness in our society, women continue to be oppressed and discriminated against in traditionally male-dominated fields—the police force being among the most guilty of such biases.”

And there’s that sexy smile again. “Believe it or not, not every guy out there is misogynistic,” he says.

“That’s a mighty big word for you,” I say, trying to ignore his grin. “I’m impressed you know what it means.”

“Of course I do. Not only am I good-looking, I’m pretty damn smart, too.” He spreads out his hands. “I’m the whole package, baby, standing right here in front of you. If you’d like, I’ll flex for you later. But only if you’re good,” he says, adding a wink.

I swallow hard, but then quickly clear my throat. “Officer O’Brien, you are truly unbelievable.”

“And you’re uptight, negative, and obviously convinced the world is out to get you and your sex.”

I slow to a stop. “I beg your pardon?”

He throws back his head, laughing. “Not sex sex. I meant womankind. Seriously, did you just go there?”

“I…”

Heat scorches me from head to toe as I quickly walk away. Of course, I can’t outrun this guy. In just a few strides, he’s right back beside me. “I’m not convinced everyone is out to get me,” I mutter under my breath.

“Sure you are.”

“I am not!”

“Then let’s get back to what you said. You’re assuming people hate Lu ’cause she’s a woman.”

“No. It’s just—” I take a moment to steady my voice. “As I was trying to explain, women make up a small percentage of the police force. They are not held in the same regard as male officers. They are often ridiculed and targeted because they are perceived as the weaker sex, weaker backup, and more emotional.”

“More emotional?” he asks, sounding appalled. “I don’t believe it.”

I gasp. “You—”

“Cad?” he offers.

I grind to a halt in front of the door leading up to the stairwell. This is the man who’s supposed to keep me safe?

Upon taking in my dumbfounded expression, Curran laughs into his shoulder. I slap my hands against my sides. Nice. Clearly I’m just kicks and giggles to be around.

It’s only when I try to open the door that his more serious persona returns. He holds out his hand, keeping me in place as he steps ahead of me and does a sweep of the stairwell.

“All clear,” he says, allowing me to pass.

I hurry through, only for him to clasp my elbow to keep me in place before I can take the first step. “Hold up,” he says. “I want to explain some things to you.” The door slams shut and he drops his hand away. “Remember the hazing that goes on when you pledge—you know, like at the college we went to together that I’m not supposed to talk about?”

I tilt my chin, wondering where he’s going with this. “Yes?”

“Well, it goes on at the academy, too, but it’s a lot worse—and meant to take you to your breaking point. The veteran cops there mess with your head. They purposely piss you off, screw with your mind, and stress you out. You’re maced. You’re thrown to the ground. And you’re sent to run until you swear to Christ your leg muscles are going to rip from the bone.”

I place my hand over my chest, feeling ill. “That’s…awful.”

Curran responds with a one-shoulder shrug. “It’s not meant to hurt, Tess. It’s meant to prepare. Because no matter what they do to you in the academy, it won’t compare to what some strung-out asshole waving a gun will do to you if he catches you alone. Won’t compare to the real pain you’ll feel when an abused woman cracks you in the head for arresting the man who knocked her teeth in. So the seasoned cops prep you any way they can. They’re not there to be your friend, or to hug you, or to tell you it’s going to be okay. Because if you’re a cop, chances are, it’s never going to be okay.”

Sadness overtakes me as trickles of Curran’s anguish find their way into his tone. Something happened to Curran—something terrible. Had he been harmed in the line of duty? Had he lost one of his friends?

“Are you all right?” I ask him, carefully.

He forces a smile. “Yeah. It’s all good.”

No, I don’t think it is…or was. “I’m sorry,” I tell him, honestly.

His mouth purses as if whatever happened to him had no effect, but it’s clear that it did, even as he continues speaking. “Like I was saying, those seasoned cops—they do what they do because they need to do it. They’re there to separate the weak from the strong and help those who graduate stay alive when it’s their turn to hit the streets.”

“So Lu was one of the trainers who took you to your breaking point,” I say, wanting him to know that I’m listening, and that his words are affecting me.

“Yeah. She was. To give you an example, my group was given a scenario with a bomb threat, armed perps, and a bunch of civilians. I was the only one who didn’t shoot an innocent bystander. The only one who kept his head, and the only recruit who got the job done the right way. Can’t say the same for the rest of my group. That didn’t stop Lu from macing all of us and making us run five miles while repeating the Miranda out loud.”

My mouth goes strangely dry. “But why were you punished? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Curran’s voice takes on a force I never knew, and one I can’t quite place. “It’s not about being punished, Tess. It’s about learning that once we put on the badge, and take the oath to protect and serve, we’re all in it together. Despite our differences in hair, skin color, and ability, we’re all brothers and sisters. We don’t share the same blood, but we will bleed as one. And when one of us falls, we fall with him.”

As I take in his stance, his clenching fists, his pained features, and his words, I realize exactly how much Curran has changed. He may be as strong and as imposing as ever, but just then, I catch a chink of vulnerability in his tough-as-steel persona.

I want to wrap my arms around him and hold him close—to thank him for his sacrifices, and those of his brothers and sisters who share the oath he’s taken. God, never have I felt so insignificant and useless. I may know the law, but I will never enforce it—not to the degree Curran does. And, Jesus, not with my life!

I force myself to speak. “I never realized how intense law enforcement training is—or what it must take to graduate. This Lu woman sounds hideous.”

He nods, knowingly. “Yeah. But even though the other two male trainers present were the ones who devised our punishment, she was the one we were all pissed at. So yeah, we are a bunch of chauvinistic pricks.” He slaps my arm playfully and grins. “Come on, let’s wrap up and I’ll take you home.”

I watch him jog up the steps with my mouth dangling open. Oh, my God, this ball-busting frat boy hasn’t changed one bit!

I groan. Well, apparently neither have I, seeing how my stare locks on his ass, and my hands long to spank it.