The following day, Krista pulled into the parking lot of the swanky little café that overlooked the breakwater at Ogden Point. The lighthouse at the end of the long, manmade L-shaped jetty shone bright and white against a dreary gray sky while people and their dogs or companions braved the nasty wind and walked the path. Harsh gusts threatened to shove them into the frigid green water if they weren’t careful. The Juan de Fuca Strait sat in front of her with raging whitecaps on dark waves, and snow-capped mountains stood tall and authoritative in the backdrop on the Olympic Peninsula.

Knowing that she had fifteen minutes to kill before the girls were set to arrive—reluctantly, but knowing that cocky, disgustingly responsible roommate of hers was right—Krista pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialed.

“Hello?” her mother answered after the third ring.

“Hi, Mum.”

“Krista? Is everything okay, dear?” Apparently calling twice in the span of a week was cause for concern.

She swallowed. “Uh … everything is just fine, Mum, how are you?”

“Getting ready to tear the tree down.”

“I thought you didn’t do that until New Year’s Day?”

“Well, as neither you nor your brother live at home, and your dad and I are busy with work, I figured I might as well make the most of my day off.”

Krista hummed a response and let her gaze focus on a seagull caught up in a wild gust of wind. “Um, Mum?”

“What is it, dear?” She could see it now: Her mother had dropped whatever it was she was doing and wandered over to her chair in the living room, with her basket of knitting on one side and her stack of Danielle Steele novels on the other, with half a cup of long-turned-cold coffee perched on the coaster Krista had made her in the third grade sitting on the end table. It was her television watching chair, reading chair, knitting chair. But most of all, it’s where Elaine Matthews went to think. The woman was anything if not predictable and set in her ways.

“I, um … I’m pregnant.” Good job, hardly hesitated at all.

Silence.

“Mum? You there?”

“Y-yes … I’m here.”

“Did you hear me?”

“Yes.”

“And?” Well, now her mother was just being downright frightening. Krista hoped to God her dad was home, or at the very least a neighbor was within screaming distance, in case her mother went into cardiac arrest and needed medical attention.

“D-do you know who the father is?”

Riiiight—because she didn’t marry Curt, she was a giant hussy, spreading her legs for any man willing.

Krista clenched her teeth. “Yes, Mum, I do. We’re living together.”

Her exhale of relief traveled through the phone, only to send the hair up on the back of Krista’s neck. “When are you due?”

“Early June.”

“And you’re happy about this?”

She couldn’t get a read on her mother’s tone. “It was a shock at first, for sure. Not exactly planned, seeing as I’m a rookie and all. But we’re happy about it now. Brock comes from a big family, three brothers, and his mother is wonderful. This baby is already very loved. And that’s what’s important, right?”

More silence.

“Mum?”

“All I want is for you to be happy, Krista. And I don’t think you would have been if you’d stayed here.”

Well holy hell, where was this coming from?

“Um … thanks?”

“Are you and this … Brock getting married?”

Too good to be true. Here we go. Get ready to be called a screwup.

Krista let out a weighted sigh.

“Not at the moment. We’ve got some things to sort out first.”

“But he makes you happy?”

Well, now, that was a loaded question if she’d ever heard one. She really had to stop and think about her answer.

Did he make her happy?

Sure, whenever she saw the man, butterflies went bat-shit crazy in her belly, and her body got all warm and tingly. The way he looked at her, the way he smelled drove her wild. His voice, deep and throaty like a diesel truck coming to life, was music to her ears. And the way he unequivocally loved their baby, having jumped in and embraced fatherhood with both feet, made her heart swell. Was that happiness?

But then the man could be so infuriating as well. She could blame her mood swings on hormones and exhaustion, what was his excuse? The man had borderline personality disorder or something, and she was getting mighty tired of not knowing which Brock Hart she was going to wake up to each morning.

But her mother didn’t need to know any of that, so instead, she gave her the short answer. “Yes, Mum. He makes me happy.” She was still trying to figure out the long answer.

“That’s all that matters. As long as you and baby are happy and healthy.”

Krista wiped away the sudden tear that had sprinted its way down the crease of her nose. “Thanks, Mum. That means a lot.”

“How do you feel?”

Krista caught herself smiling in the side mirror of her car. “I’m feeling pretty good. The first trimester sucked. I was exhausted all the time, barfed most mornings as many women do. But now that I’m into my second trimester, things are good.”

“The ‘Golden Trimester,’ ” her mother said with a chuckle. “Enjoy it. The third trimester is usually rough.”

Krista half snorted, half laughed. “I’ll try to remember that, thanks.”

She tittered quietly on the other end, but then her tone sobered quickly. “Would you like to tell your father, or should I?”

Oh, crap, she’d forgotten about her dad. Her lip wedged its way between her teeth in thought. The image of Wendy’s car pulling into the parking lot filled her rearview mirror. “You can tell dad,” she quickly said. “It was hard enough telling you. I was really worried about your reaction.”

Was that a gasp on the other end? “Never be afraid to talk to me, sweetie. I know we’ve had our differences, but no matter what, I’ll always love and support you. Your father and I are very proud of the amazing woman you’ve grown up to be. We couldn’t be prouder. A college graduate, world traveler, and now a respected police officer. And I’m certain you’re going to make an incredible mother. I just wish you were closer so I could help you out.”

Another tear. This time Krista let it fall. “Wow, thanks, Mum. I love you too.”

“I wish I could hug you and congratulate you properly.” The emotion was thick in her voice. Elaine Matthews was a crier. Movies, commercials, documentaries, books, a touching moment, you name it, the woman leaked from her eyes.

And apparently now that she was pregnant, Krista, too, had become an emotional geyser. She blotted her eyes with her sleeve. “Me too, Mum. But I’ll see you guys soon, okay?”

“Okay.”

They said their goodbyes, followed by more I love yous and more tears. When Krista finally hung up the phone, she felt lighter than she had in months. A heavy weight slid off her shoulders and dissolved into nothing but mushy feelings of love.

Her mother hadn’t called her a screwup or a disappointment. She’d simply asked Krista questions and offered congratulations, support and love. All the things a mother is supposed to do.

Had it all been in Krista’s head all this time, for all these years? Did she even know her parents?

Despite her light heart and weightless shoulders, her head began to swim with new thoughts. All these years, she thought her parents looked at her as nothing more than a screwup, a black sheep, a wild child, and maybe they didn’t look at her like that at all. She’d simply compared herself with her perfect brother and all his achievements and just assumed her parents were doing the same.

Well, we all know what assuming does …

For the first time in nearly four months, she finally felt proud of her pregnancy. There was no more embarrassment or shame that she’d gotten knocked up on a one-night stand or as a rookie. Sure, the timing wasn’t great, but she wanted this baby and would take the rest as it came.

Marlise’s car pulled in beside Wendy, and with a quick wipe of her sleeve to her eyes, Krista hopped out to greet them. She’d have to thank Brock. Though she wasn’t looking forward to telling him he’d been right.

“Hey, you!” Wendy grinned, having pulled a black toque over her silky blonde hair, the cool winter wind off the water whipping her day-glow green scarf behind her like a jet stream.

Krista shivered and rubbed her hands together. “Hey!”

“How’s baby?”

Krista smiled, wrapping her arms around her midriff. “Letting me keep my breakfast down finally.”

Wendy smiled. “That’s always a plus. They say it’s the most important meal of the day.”

Marlise joined them, having pulled a big, puffy coat out of the back of her car and tossed it on. Even though it was only a few hundred yards to the door of the café, that winter wind off the water was enough to cause a wicked wind burn.

They each ordered a warm drink and a pastry before finding a table far off in the corner next to a window, where the view of more sea birds gliding in the sky like zero-gravity surfers was unencumbered.

They talked about this, that and the other thing. How their Christmases went. Both Wendy and Marlise had to work, and their shifts had not been without a shit-ton of holiday drama. They were still both up to their necks in paperwork. Eventually all three of them grew quiet, their minds drifting along with their gazes out to the blustery day and what Krista could only imagine were equally blustery thoughts.

But she needed to get it out. Besides catching up with two good friends, this meet-up had a purpose, and that purpose was to bring down Senior Constable Myles “Dirtbag” Slade.

“Can I, uh … can I ask you guys something about when you slept with Myles?” Krista finally asked, causing both women to snap back to reality and turn to face her.

Both their faces grew tight, and Marlise fidgeted with her mug. “What do you want to know?” she asked.

“Do you remember all of it?”

Wendy was the first to shake her head. “I don’t … no. I remember him asking me out for a drink. I don’t know if I had more than one. Next thing I know I’m waking up in his bedroom naked. He then proceeds to show me pictures, disgusting horrible pictures of me, of the two of us, and threatens to take these to the media, to the superintendent and anyone else high up in the force. He said he’d make my life a living hell if I told anyone.”

Marlise’s eyes had filled with tears as she quietly nodded next to her friend. “He did the same thing to me,” she finally croaked.

Motherfucker.

Krista nodded, biting her lip. “But the whole force knows that he’s slept with you guys … so it got out. I don’t understand.”

Marlise blew her black fringe bangs out of her eyes and started fiddling with her mug again, avoiding eye contact. “He was the one who bragged about sleeping with us. And in order to save face, we just played along. Corroborating his story with as few details as possible.” She lifted one shoulder. “It’s not unheard of, cops sleeping with each other. Scratching itches and all, but it’s a power thing with Myles. It’s always been a power thing.”

Wendy’s head bobbed up and down as she continued to look out the window.

“Did either of you take this to Staff Sergeant Wicks?” Krista asked, not understanding why two tough-as-nails female cops were allowing a little shit like Myles Slade to bully them.

Wendy nodded again. “I did. He said it was all he-said, she-said and that without any evidence, there was no proof. That Myles is a respected senior officer with a squeaky-clean record, and from what he heard, I’d willingly accepted his offer to go grab a drink after shift.”

Marlise reached into her purse and pulled out a tissue, blotting at her nose and eyes as she sniffled and nodded, agreeing with Wendy.

“I think Myles might have something on Wicks,” Wendy said slowly, bringing her voice down a couple of octaves.

Krista leaned in over the table, bringing her own voice down. “What do you mean ‘have something?’ ”

Wendy shrugged. “Why else would the Wicks defend him? I threatened to take it to HR, and Wicks got all weird and snippety, saying he’d take care of it. Though nothing happened. He’s Myles’s senior officer; he shouldn’t be afraid of him, and yet he is. He’s defending the guy’s behavior. Why?”

Shit. She’d never thought of that before. Maybe Myles did have something on the staff sergeant. It would make sense. She’d have to get Brock and the Harty Boys on it. Investigating a fellow officer, even a senior ranking one, was one thing, but investigating your staff sergeant, that was the equivalent of jumping into a shark tank with a gaping wound.

Wendy swallowed hard, taking a sip of her probably now cold coffee. “I’ve tried to not let it affect my job, and for the most part it hasn’t. He wasn’t my mentor, and I rarely see him, but when I do, that smirk, that arrogant, self-righteous smirk makes me want to vomit but also throat-punch the shit out of him. He loves that he has something over me, that he thinks he holds my career on his flash drive.”

Marlise, who’d been quiet for the most part, blotted her eyes again before speaking. “I know he raped me. And it wasn’t gentle. I ended up having to go to the doctor because I was having issues afterward. Lots of bleeding and pain. I confronted Myles about it and asked him what he did to me. He said it wasn’t his fault I can’t hold my liquor and couldn’t remember. That at the time I’d been all about the ‘kinky shit,’ as he’d put it.” She looked like she was about to puke but instead took a sip of her tea, her hand rattling as she brought the mug to her lips. “I haven’t been into any kinky shit in my life.” She glanced back out toward the lighthouse and breakwater. “I never did find out what he violated me with.”

Krista’s insides roiled. “Are you okay now?”

Marlise nodded solemnly. “I think so. Tough to date, though.”

Wendy nodded solemnly. “I haven’t been on a date in months. Keep canceling at the last minute.”

Marlise’s jaw trembled. “Me too.”

It wasn’t just the hormones talking anymore. It was the rage, it was the fury, the sadness and the injustice for her fellow officers, her fellow females—her friends—that caused fresh, hot tears to well up in Krista’s eyes.

Marlise’s face turned serious when she noticed Krista blotting at her eyes with a napkin. “Did he do something to you too? God, please tell me the baby isn’t his.”

Wendy looked up from her lap, her eyes pleading Krista to say no.

Krista’s lip trembled. “I didn’t let it get that far. He’s been trying for months to get me into bed, but I’ve refused. He cornered me in the staff room a few weeks ago. Tore open my shirt. Assaulted me.”

“No,” Wendy whispered, shaking her head.

Krista nodded.

“Did you report him?” Wendy asked.

“Yes, but Wicks pretty much dismissed it. Said now that I’m on light duty I don’t have to worry about Slade anymore.”

“Fucking useless prick,” Wendy gritted out.

“I think we need to take matters into our own hands now,” Krista said, fury tasting metallic in her mouth.

“It’s dangerous to try to go after him,” Marlise whispered. “Myles is smart. And I don’t want to lose my job.”

“Plus,” Wendy added, “it’s embarrassing. We’re cops.” She brought her voice down. “We should have known better. Should have been stronger. Smarter.”

Krista’s heart ached for her friends. “You won’t lose your jobs. But he can’t keep getting away with this. He nearly did the same thing to Ingrid at the Christmas party and probably would have gotten away with it if Brock hadn’t stepped in. If we band together, find other women in the department who Myles has or has tried to take advantage of and ask them to join us, we’ll be a more powerful force. Wicks and HR can’t dismiss us if we all come forward.”

Wendy’s jaw tightened, and her high cheekbones burned a bright pink. “We can’t let him get away with it. I’m in.”

Marlise wiped her eyes again with her tissue, but despite the red eyes and blotchy skin, she tossed her shoulders back and held her head high. “Me too.”

Krista grinned and reached for each of her friends’ hands. “We’ll get him. I promise.”

Despite the mood at the café, Krista felt lighter, happier than she had in a long while when she parked her car in Brock’s driveway later that day. She’d finally told her parents about her pregnancy, and they were supportive and accepting. Now she was building a case, a strong case, with witnesses and testimonies, against Myles. He wasn’t going to get away with it. He wasn’t going to hurt anyone else. Not if she had anything to do with it.

Brock’s truck was in the driveway, too, which meant he was home. He’d been home a lot lately. Seemed to almost always be home when she was. Coincidence? Was he working at all anymore? Did it matter?

She wasn’t going to let him gloat too much, but he did deserve to know that he was right. That her parents didn’t view her as a screwup and in fact were proud of her. She was a big enough person to admit when she was wrong; she only hoped he played the “I told you so game” with a wicked gleam in his eye and perhaps a heavy hand rather than get all cocky and smug about it.

As she opened the front door, the sounds of grunts and rhythmic pounding filled her ears, and they seemed to be coming from downstairs. She knew there was a home gym down here but hadn’t actually checked it out yet. There were a few rooms with closed doors, and not wanting to be too snoopy, she hadn’t bothered to open them.

The father of her child would tell her if he had a weapons or torture room, right?

Kicking off her shoes and slipping into her slippers, she hung up her coat, then took off in the direction of the noise.

The dimly lit hallway strained her eyes compared with the bright and spacious upstairs, and before long, she found herself feeling claustrophobic. All the doors were closed. She needed to open one soon. Reaching the door where the pounding and grunts were coming from, she hesitantly turned the knob, only to come face-to-face with one of the sexiest things she’d ever seen: Wearing headphones and no shirt, sporting boxing gloves and a glistening sweat that defined each and every muscle to chiseled perfection, Brock was kicking the shit out of a punching bag.

His back was to her, and there were no mirrors, so she took the opportunity to just watch for a moment. Revel in the way his arms and torso bunched and contracted each time his monstrous fist made contact with the bag. Even his back was magnificent.

She licked her lips and followed the line of his body past his shorts to his strong, powerful calves as he hopped back and forth on each foot like an agile fighter. Then without any warning, his body lurched up and leaned over as his foot made wicked contact with the bag, sending it flying backward. Krista gasped in surprise and shifted where she stood, her lady parts tingling the longer she watched.

Brock circled around the bag and lifted his head, and that’s when he noticed her. His green eyes glowed under the harsh fluorescent lights, and those sexy lips that knew all too well how to make her burn tilted up into a cocky little smirk. “How long you been standing there?”

She strode forward, confidence in her gait. His hands were in the gloves, so he couldn’t remove the earbuds, so she did it for him, even loving the way he smelled after a workout. All man. All Brock.

“Hmm?” he hummed. “You like what you see?”

They were less than a foot apart, and her entire body was on fire. Oh yeah, she liked what she saw. She liked it a lot. She wanted to lick him like a goddamn soft-serve cone dipped in Belgian chocolate.

“I owe you an apology,” she said softly, resting her hands on his shoulders.

“Yeah?”

She nodded, resisting the urge to run her hands up into his hair. “Turns out you were right.”

Interest piqued in those gorgeous green orbs of his. “Not very often that I’m not, but go on.”

She snorted a laugh and swatted him gently on the ear. “About my parents. I called and told my mum today. She was very supportive and said she’s proud of the person I’ve become.” Emotion clawed at the back of Krista’s throat at the memory of her phone conversation with her mother. It had been a really good talk. She hoped to have more just like them. A lot more.

Amusement and happiness filled Brock’s eyes. “See? I told you.”

“You did.”

“So you’ve come here to … ”

“Eat crow.”

His gloved hands fell to her waist, and he pulled her against his hard, sweaty body. “Hmm, crow, eh?” She melted into him. It didn’t matter that he was damp from his workout. They could have a shower together and get clean. His lips hovered just over hers. “I think I’d prefer to take you upstairs in the shower than force you to eat some disgusting bird.”

She hummed softly and flicked her tongue out against his salty lips. “That sounds good. I’d definitely prefer something else in my mouth.”

He growled above her. “Oh, baby, that can be arranged.” And instead of kissing her, with gloves on and all, he scooped her up and carried her upstairs.