In the Line of Duty: First Responders, Book 2 Page 2

  Chapter Two

  Jake rubbed the grit out of his eyes and stared at the ceiling. Another short night. He reached over and grabbed his iPhone beside the bed and checked the time. Nearly eight. Which wouldn’t be that bad on a normal night—except he’d had the damned nightmare again and had lain awake for too long, listening to the quiet. Even the peepers had stopped chirping some time during the night, and the hot air had been frustratingly still. The only thing he’d heard in the darkness was the odd transport truck up on the highway. The lack of noise only made the sounds in his head louder.

  The dream wasn’t always the same, but it was always Khaterah’s face he saw. Sometimes beautiful, sometimes ugly. Sometimes he could see everything—her eyes, her smooth skin, the lush curve of her lips. Other times it was just the gleam of her eyes from the slit in her burka.

  In the end though, the image was always the same. Blood and the dull stare of her eyes before he gently closed the lids forever.

  Goddammit.

  He shoved the covers off and got out of bed. No sense lying around and overthinking again. What was done was done. He’d gotten out after his last deployment and this was his reality now. His business. His family—he really should make more of an effort to see them.

  But his business had a hiccup with the theft and his family…well, they always watched him very closely and asked him if he needed to talk.

  What he needed was to forget. But the usual ways of forgetting hadn’t worked. He always woke up with a big head and a bad taste in his mouth, so he’d put himself on the other side of the bar instead, putting in long hours to keep the wolf from the door.

  And the bar was doing well. He couldn’t say as much for the demons in his head.

  He pulled on a pair of board shorts and a T-shirt, splashed some water on his face and felt better. Today was the one day of the week he stayed closed. He knew he probably lost business by closing on Sundays, but he’d never quite escaped the idea that Sunday was family day, as it had always been at home. Maybe he didn’t go for the family dinner around the table thing, but he knew his employees had families and friends, and they didn’t want to work all weekend long either. They deserved a quiet day the same as anyone else.

  Today wasn’t a complete day of rest for Jake though. He’d agreed to co-sponsor a barbeque at a food bank fundraiser—flipping burgers and hot dogs was more his speed than face painting and dunking booths.

  Though he thought it might be fun to put Kendra Givens on that particular hot seat. He’d bet anything she’d look sexy as hell dripping wet and mad.

  The thought gave him a little boost as he grabbed a quick breakfast and began loading boxes and coolers into his truck. There’d been a moment that day over breakfast that she’d almost been friendly. Until she’d remembered she didn’t like him and turned all frosty again.

  He slammed the tailgate of the truck with a satisfying thud. Not that he blamed her. He hadn’t exactly been a gentleman the night she’d slapped the cuffs on him and nudged him into the back of the police car. It hadn’t been his finest moment and he knew it. He wasn’t quite sure why she’d held the grudge so long though. She seemed to disapprove of everything he said and did, when he was just making an honest living. Running a pub in what was practically his home town was a far cry from the heat and dust of Afghanistan.

  When he got to Stile Park the tents were set up already and volunteers hustled around organizing the various games and activities that would take place throughout the afternoon. Jake shook hands with a couple from the local grocery store who were co-sponsoring the food tents and began unloading the coolers of ice, filling them with soft drinks. At eleven, they fired up the grills and slapped on the first of the hamburgers. The crowd started coming—getting an entry hand stamp in exchange for a food donation. A local radio station fired up some music and the first small child sat up to get a unicorn painted on their cheek. Jake enjoyed himself for a while as all the smells of summertime filled the air and a slight breeze flowed through the awning that provided them with shade. He passed out food and replenished condiments and felt the restlessness of the morning slip away. Until he looked up and saw her.

  Constable Givens. In her uniform. All five foot five inches of her—well, a little more than that with her cap perched firmly on her head. All pressed and starched and looking annoyingly official with her dark hair tightly braided, the slightly frayed end falling just below her collar.

  “Hey, Jake, I think you might want to turn those burgers,” his grill-mate, Paul, said. He looked down, saw the edges were becoming a little too brown, and hurried to flip them over. Paul was cheerfulness personified as he used tongs to put hotdogs in buns and handed them over to a group of young boys with grubby faces and hands.

  When Jake looked up she was gone from view. But her appearance had unsettled him. He wished he could say that she put a damper on his enjoyment, but it wasn’t true.

  Truth was, he thought Constable Givens was pretty attractive, starchy uniform or not. It was designed for function and authority, and there was certainly nothing feminine about it or the equipment she was required to wear while on duty. He frowned as he put the burgers into waiting buns. Maybe it wasn’t feminine, and maybe it was all the years he’d spent in a uniform himself…but he found it sexy as hell.

  “Looks like you’re cooking again.” Her voice surprised him, and he lifted his head to stare at her. The coolness from their previous encounter was gone, though it still felt quite polite rather than friendly.

  “Looks like,” he replied.

  “Didn’t expect to see you here today,” she remarked, grabbing a napkin from the stack on the table.

  “Likewise.”

  She looked up at him with clear blue eyes. “Why not? It’s pretty common for the detachments to show up at charity events.”

  “More common than troublesome redneck pub owners?”

  She pursed her lips and held out her plate for a hamburger. “I never said you were a redneck.”

  He enjoyed sparring with her. She was a worthy opponent and he took his time choosing her burger from the ones on the warming rack. “You thought it.”

  “No, actually I didn’t.” She moved down the line to get the ketchup and mustard.

  “Troublesome pub owner then.”

  She shrugged, and he chuckled. “Well, at least you’re not a liar,” he said.

  “If you saw the call log for a typical weekend, you’d understand,” she replied. “It’s not personal.”

  He didn’t believe her. “Come on, Kendra, of course it is. The night you threw me in the drunk tank you made a judgment, and nothing’s changed.”

  She raised an eyebrow. Jake, however, turned away and smiled at a couple who were looking for lunch. Let her stew. He’d wanted to say that for some time now. He’d been a hellion that summer and he knew it, but it was over now.

  He’d rather forget those months altogether.

  When they were alone once more she spoke. “What am I supposed to think? You were running around the parking lot in your underwear, after picking a fight with a guy half your size. You’re lucky you didn’t get slammed with assault charges. You were an asshole, plain and simple. And when you came back for good, the first thing you did was open a bar, for God’s sake. Do you know the majority of my calls are drunk and disorderlies?”

  He’d wanted to get a rise out of her and he’d succeeded, but her response made Jake’s temper start to stir. She knew nothing about him. Nothing. “So you disapprove of me and you disapprove of my kind of business. Got it. I guess that puts my case on the bottom of the list, right?”

  Her face seemed unusually pale in the bright sunlight. “Of course not. It’s my job.” She sounded appalled that he would challenge her integrity that way, while she seemed to have no problem insulting his with every breath.

  He slapped another dozen burgers on the barbeque and sprinkled them with salt and pepper. “Well, that’s comforting,” he replied. He met her gaze evenly. He
could sense the suggestion of curves even in the straight dark trousers and bulky vest of her uniform. He wished he didn’t notice quite so much. Especially since it was in his best interest to maintain a positive relationship with law enforcement in the area. He shouldn’t be antagonizing her so much, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.

  There was something about her he connected with, and that puzzled him. They were as different as night and day. Oil and water. But the night she’d locked him up, there’d been a moment. He’d looked her dead in the eye and something had passed between them. It made him curious. And while he tried to get a rise out of her, he also respected her a lot. It wasn’t easy being a cop. Couldn’t be easy being a woman and a cop.

  He knew right enough that she’d handle his case with the same attention she did everything. It was who she was.

  Just then the day’s coordinator approached, a frown pursing her face.

  “Burger, Martha?” Jake asked.

  “Not right now. We have a problem, and I was wondering if you could help us out with it.”

  He could see Kendra standing to the side, hanging on every word. “What’s going on?”

  “Our emcee is sick, and we want to make the presentations in about twenty minutes—to the food bank, of course, and also announce the various prize winners. You’re a hometown boy and a veteran, and you’re also one of the sponsors. You’d be the perfect person to fill in.”

  “No problem.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded. “Why not?”

  “Oh, thank you.” Martha let out a huge sigh of relief. “We can always count on you, Jake.” She gave him a brilliant smile. “About twenty minutes, okay?”

  She scurried off while Jake felt Kendra’s eyes glued to him.

  “What?” he asked, not looking at her but sliding his spatula beneath a hamburger and giving it a flip.

  “You’re a sponsor today?”

  “Don’t sound so surprised. Just because I own a bar—I’m assuming that’s your problem—doesn’t mean I don’t have a conscience. The people of this community support my business. I support them.”

  Kendra opened her lips but she didn’t say anything.

  “Why is it you’re so against the bar anyway? I run a decent place.”

  “Most of the people you serve would be better off staying home with their families for a night or two,” she replied, “instead of getting drunk and getting into fights or getting behind the wheel.”

  “Lord, aren’t we all high and mighty and full of judgments today,” he said irritably, wishing now she’d never come over to the food tent. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to finish cooking these and then go do my civic duty. Maybe you should go do yours before I say something I’m really going to regret.” He looked her in the eye. “After all, I wouldn’t want to piss you off. I could get into trouble.”

  Her cheeks blossomed with a bit of color before she turned and walked away.

  Damn her. He scowled as he finished turning the patties and put the cover back down on the grill. For a few moments the other morning, as they’d eaten breakfast, he’d thought maybe the animosity she seemed to feel for him had faded. He remembered her smiling as she bit into the crispy bacon, the way it had almost felt friendly. He would rather it was, to be honest. He didn’t have many friends in town. Business acquaintances, of course. But many of his old friends were gone, and at times it was awkward with the ones who had remained. There were a lot of differences to being on the other side of the bar—including knowing when to stop serving and call someone a cab. That wasn’t always a popular move when it was an old buddy who’d reached his limit.

  He wondered why she was so against his pub and against him. He got the feeling it had little to do with the incident a few years back. That had been embarrassing but nothing worth holding a grudge about. His lips twitched a little thinking about it. He might have been foolish, but he remembered every moment of that night. And he remembered propositioning her from the back seat of her police car, with his hands in cuffs and the button of his jeans still undone.

  Sad thing was, he’d had the same thoughts just a few days ago.

  And he’d been completely sober.

  Kendra wandered through the park, pasting on a smile and chatting to people, but her mind stuck on Jake. He was absolutely right. She didn’t like his business. She wished she could say she didn’t like him either. But the truth was she was being judgmental. She might not like what he did for a living, but that didn’t give her reason to be nasty about it. To make it personal.

  So why was it? It wasn’t like they were old friends. It wasn’t like they had any history at all. He was the hometown boy and she was the outsider who had moved in and made her home here.

  If she could call it a home.

  She paused by an oak tree, taking advantage of the shade, feeling slightly jealous of Jake as he took to the small makeshift stage in his board shorts and flip-flops—so much more casual and comfortable than her damned uniform.

  She hadn’t realized he was a sponsor today. Seeing him manning the grill was one thing—though volunteering his time for charity was a surprise, it was quite something else to sponsor, giving not only time but money as well. Perhaps she owed Jake an apology. With a ready smile, he thanked people for coming and made a presentation of food goods and cash to the organization’s chair. He drew for donated prizes too, and one that he’d donated himself—a gigantic gift basket filled with local gourmet products as well as a gift certificate for dinner at the pub.

  He was acting like an upstanding member of the community. Perhaps it was time she started treating him like one.

  The only problem was she couldn’t get past her prejudice about the bar. And that was something so deep-seated, so ingrained, that she wasn’t sure she’d ever get past it. She’d seen what it could do, and it scared the hell out of her.

  The afternoon was waning when she heard a shout go up from the games area. Curious, she wandered over that way and found a group surrounding the dunking booth. The local school principal came out sopping wet and made room for the next victim. Kendra smiled and clasped her hands behind her back, relaxing and enjoying the sound of laughter. She wondered who they’d put up there next.

  She didn’t have to wait long. There was more giggling, and then she saw Jake take a precarious seat in the top of the tank.

  Kendra squeezed her fingers together. Did she dare? There was always the chance she’d miss the button and the lever wouldn’t drop.

  But there was the chance she would hit it and it was oh-so tempting. For a few minutes she watched some teens line up and take aim. One came close to hitting the edge of the button, but didn’t quite make it. Jake leaned back a little, put his hands behind his head and preened.

  His cocky attitude was enough to make up her mind. Casually, she sauntered forward, dug into her pocket for the dollar it cost for three chances and tossed the first ball up and down in her hand. She looked at Jake and grinned.

  His smile widened and he spread his elbows wider, as if to say, “Go ahead, lady, take your best shot.”

  “Get him, Constable Givens!” A boy of about twelve sent up the first cheer as she weighed the ball in her hand. A crowd was gathering now, and she wiggled her eyebrows at Jake. He didn’t look the least bit worried.

  She planted her feet, drew back and let the first ball go.

  It just missed the button, hitting the booth a little to the left of the trigger with a hollow metal sound. A chorus of disappointment went through the crowd, but she took her next ball and turned it over in her hands.

  Jake sat up, raised his hand and yawned. Then he laughed.

  She couldn’t help the smile that touched her lips. Lord, but he was a cheeky one. She’d be the last one laughing. Had to be. There was a certain amount of pride at stake, especially after his harsh dismissal of her earlier.

  She pulled her shoulder back, stepped into it and missed again, overcorrecting and hitting slightly right.


  “Come on, Givens. Your aim’s a little off,” he called out, and the crowd laughed. “I hope you shoot better than you throw!”

  This time she didn’t hesitate or think. She grabbed the third ball, curled her fingertips along the curved stitching and let it rip.

  Bull’s-eye.

  There was a moment of surprise where his face completely blanked, and then a splash as he hit the water. Kendra couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up and out of her mouth. The crowd joined in, clapping and cheering as Jake stood up, his face dripping, his T-shirt sopping wet and clinging to his broad shoulders and chest.

  All in all, he looked pretty damn good when he was wet. And she’d salvaged her pride. A good afternoon’s work, to her mind.

  “I’ll get you for that,” he warned loudly, running a hand over his hair before resuming the seat.

  “Careful, Jake,” someone called out. “She’ll have you up on uttering threats or something.”

  He looked down at her, affecting a scowl, but he couldn’t maintain it. He laughed and then sent her a wink. It should have been silly. Instead it was sexy as hell.

  Then someone else stepped up to the line and paid their dollar, and Kendra walked away.

  She stayed a while longer, but as she was walking back to her car Jake’s voice sounded behind her. “Hey, Givens. Wait up.”

  It made no sense that the sound of his voice—strong and soft at the same time—sent her stomach swirling. She turned around and saw him jogging up to her, a can of pop in his hand. His light shirt was still damp from his dunking, and she could see a hint of his skin and the outline of his muscles through the fabric. Maybe Jake wasn’t in the army anymore, but he hadn’t lost any of his physique, had he?

  “Here,” he said, holding out the can. “For having to stand around in the heat all afternoon. Courtesy of Jake’s Pub, if you’re not too proud to take it.”

  She took the can from his hand and their fingers touched ever so briefly. Her cheeks were already flushed from the sun, so she hoped the blush she felt didn’t show. The can was sweating and the cool liquid felt wonderful on her hand. “Thanks,” she replied.