Going In Blind_Brotherhood Protectors World Read online

“…worried. About Blade. I’ve only really had him a few months but sitting here, without him, feels…wrong.”

  “Why don’t we call the vet? See if we can get an update?”

  Damn. In all the commotion, she hadn’t even gotten the vet’s number. So much for still being a cop. Still having her edge. She’d barely held it together tonight. Nothing like the hard-assed detective she’d once been.

  “I…I forgot to ask for his number, which is so not like me. I’m usually very good at the details.”

  “Your partner was shot. Your best friend, I believe you phrased it. Cut yourself some slack. I’d be distracted, too, in your shoes.”

  Except where he’d been nothing but calm, cool grace under pressure. Not once had she heard his voice waver. His breathing speed up. Sure, she’d imagined his hands shaking, but that had been in her head. Like all her problems. A way of making herself feel better. Trying to fool herself into thinking she was more than just idle concern to him.

  His hand settled over both of hers. Warm. Strong. “I got his number. We’ll see if we—”

  A loud blast of music cut him off.

  “Seems the man beat us to it. Walker.”

  “Mr. Walker, this is Dr. Conrad.”

  “Doc. I was just about to call you. I have Addison with me, and we were hoping you could give us an update on Blade?”

  “He’ll be sore for a while. And might walk with a bit of a limp until his shoulder fully heals, but he came through surgery just fine. I’ll be keeping him sedated for a while.” The vet chuckled. “From what I’ve heard, he’s like his owner. Only rests if forced. Why don’t you drop by tomorrow, Addison? He should be strong enough for a short visit. Say, early afternoon?”

  Addison opened her mouth to answer, but all that made if past her lips was a strangled squeak. She hadn’t realized how scared she was Blade wasn’t going to make it—that she’d cost him his life—until the vet had started talking. And her damn throat had closed up.

  Kent squeezed her hands. “I’ll see she gets there. Thanks, Doc.”

  The line disconnected.

  “Breathe, sweetheart. It’s all gonna be okay.”

  That word, again. Breathe. Hadn’t she been trying to do just that when the world had erupted into smoke and gunfire? When she’d nearly lost Blade because she hadn’t been able to avoid danger?

  Addy forced in a few quick gulps of air, praying it would be enough to keep her lungs working.

  Another squeeze of her hands. “Better?”

  She nodded, aware her voice would belay the lie. Better implied that she had herself under control, a feat she feared wouldn’t happen as long as Kent was beside her. Sitting there, his hand on top of hers. She opened her fingers just enough his slotted between them. But if he minded the way she clung to him, he didn’t say anything. Didn’t sigh or huff. In fact, the air around them settled. The energy she sensed, calming.

  They sat in silence for a few more minutes before the truck slowed to a halt. She waited for him to continue, but he turned off the engine.

  Addy frowned. “Is there a problem?”

  A deep chuckle. “No problem. We’re here.”

  “Here?”

  “Your place.” He squeezed her hand one more time then it was gone. Nothing but the ghosted feel of his fingers twined through hers lingering behind.

  They were home already? She was sure it had taken Carl twice as long to drive her to the foundation, and it hadn’t been dark or raining. “That was…fast.”

  He snorted. “Driving slow’s for puss—er, wimps. And after the kind of crap you drive in while on deployment, a rainy summer night is pretty tame.”

  Of course, he’d driven in worse conditions. He’d spent twelve years in the Marines. God knew how many of those in the MARSOC unit. She just wasn’t used to always being a passenger. To having to rely on someone else to get anywhere she couldn’t walk to. It was one of the things that frustrated her the most.

  Her door opened, and she jerked back. She hadn’t even heard him get out of the truck. But in the space of a couple of heartbeats, he’d rounded the vehicle and reached her side. Then, he unclipped her seatbelt and offered her his arm.

  She used it to steady herself as she swung her legs to the open door, hoping she could judge the distance without tripping. He snaked one hand around her waist and tugged her against his chest, holding her tight as he stepped back and shut the door, keeping her suspended.

  She inhaled, and his spicy scent filled her senses. The one she knew she’d be able to pinpoint any time. Any where. It held hints of leather and gun oil, and something earthy that she suspected was just him. He exhaled, fluttering the strands of hair around her face as he slowly lowered her to the ground. She got a hint of that hard ridge beneath his pants, again, before he eased back, placing one of her hands on his forearm. His muscles flexed beneath her fingers as she tightened her grip just enough to ground herself.

  The air around her shifted, then he was at her side, his other hand cupping her waist, his body pressed lightly against hers. He stood motionless, obviously waiting for her to set the pace.

  She focused on where she thought his face was—by the sound of his voice, he was a good six or seven inches taller than her. “You don’t have to be my guide. I know it’s late. You must be tired, too. And you already took the time to drive me home. I’d understand if you’d rather just drop me off.”

  Not that she wanted him to leave. She didn’t. In fact, she’d already planned on asking him in for coffee. Surely, that was innocent enough. A thank you for saving her from riding in a taxi. From facing the endless miles alone, still wondering if Blade would make it. It wasn’t synonymous with sex, was it? And did she care if it was? If he interpreted it that way? Made a pass? Would she accept?

  He stiffened, a rough breath whispering around them. “I said I’d see you safely home. Abandoning you on your driveway doesn’t fit that description. Besides, it’s been my pleasure, and I’m not much of a sleeper, to be honest.”

  His voice sounded different. Strained, and his body seemed harder. As if he was bracing himself for battle. And she suspected there was a deeper meaning behind his statement. A darker reason he didn’t sleep.

  “But it’d be wise to get in out of the rain. Your dress doesn’t look like it mixes well with showers.”

  How had she missed it was still raining? Now that he’d mentioned it, she felt the cool drops dot her arms and face. But until that moment, all she’d felt was his skin beneath her palm, his body pressed against hers.

  She nodded then sighed. “My key’s in my purse, which I left on the seat.”

  “I grabbed it when I helped you out.” He placed it in her other hand. “Can I get the key for you?”

  “Okay. It’s on a silver keychain.”

  The zipper opened then closed. “Got it. Ready? From where I parked in your driveway, your porch is about thirty feet from us on a path just off to our left. There are three steps up then another couple straight to your door.”

  She smiled. “Are you always this considerate? No one else I’ve been around ever describes my surroundings for me. Gives me a visual inside my head. Thank you.”

  He swallowed, the sound thick. As if he’d had to force it down his throat. “Just holding true to my promise not to smash you into anything. Whenever you’re ready.”

  She got the feeling he would have stood there all night, waiting for her to move. The rain slowly drenching them. And never once complained. Never asked her to hurry inside. But he’d been right. Her dress didn’t mix well with rain showers, not to mention the sudden chill as the wind gusted across her damp flesh.

  A shiver lit up her skin with goosebumps as she started off, Kent keeping pace at her side. She kept track of her steps, smiling when he counted down the ones just before her stairs. It was the first time she’d walked up to her steps without Blade and didn’t worry about tripping. About kicking the bottom step or ending up too far back.

  They stopped a
t the door, and she heard the telltale click of the lock turning over before a swirl of warm air curled around her shoulders. She took two steps in then instinctively reached down to unleash Blade before she remembered he wasn’t there. Wouldn’t be until he’d recovered from saving her life.

  Addy pressed her eyes closed, doing her best to will away the building tears, when Kent sighed. His arm moved out from beneath her fingers only to brush across her back a second later. Then, he was lifting her—hugging her against his chest as he shut the door, locked it, then started walking. He stopped a few moments later then turned and lowered them onto one of her wing-backed chairs.

  He positioned her in his lap, his arms looped around her shoulders and back, her head tucked into his chest. His breath sounded above her as he rested his chin beside her head. “It’s okay to be upset. To be worried about Blade. He’s more than just a service dog. He’s family. And I know how I’d feel if someone I loved took a bullet for me.”

  Her chin quivered, a few tears spilling over her lashes to land hot and wet against his shirt. “You wouldn’t cry.”

  “We all release stress differently. Personally, I prefer to blow shit up. And I have a feeling this is about more than just Blade.” His grip tightened. “I promise I won’t think you’re any less of a badass if you let go.”

  She shook her head, all the while more tears leaked out. This wasn’t like her. Being weepy. Showing her emotions. She’d spent a lifetime bottling them up. Pushing them down whenever they threatened to unhinge her. Eighteen months, and she hadn’t cried, yet, over everything that had happened—losing her sight. Losing her partner. Letting go, now, while wrapped in Kent’s arms, seemed dangerously intimate. More so than if she’d pounced on him in his truck, and they’d had sex in her driveway.

  He sighed. “At least, close your eyes for a bit. Rest.”

  She cursed the flutter of heat that flared to life in her chest. “Like this?”

  He chuckled. “Got nowhere to go. And I can’t think of a better way to spend the next little while. So, rest. I’ll make you some tea or coffee when you wake up.”

  She burrowed against his chest, telling herself it was only for a minute. Just long enough to push everything down, again. To find her strength. And not the kind she got from him. From just sitting there in his arms. That kind of strength was a mirage. Destined to fade as soon as he walked out her door. And he’d be doing that shortly. Because once the adrenaline wore off, he’d see she wasn’t worth his effort. Was as crazy as Johnson had claimed. It was only a matter of time.

  Chapter 7

  He had nowhere to go? He’d make tea for her once she woke up? He wasn’t sure he even knew how to make tea.

  Rigs shook his head as he shifted a bit lower on the chair, keeping Addy tucked against him. She’d fallen asleep in the space of a heartbeat. Awake one second. Limp against him the next, her warm, steady breath caressing his neck. And he knew, he’d sit there all night—fuck, all weekend, if it meant having her in his arms. He could do it. Had once spent three days in the same four-foot hole, waiting for a chance to blow a bridge. So, sitting on her chair, her gentle weight nestled in his lap…piece of cake.

  Except that his damn dick didn’t want to listen to him—stay politely tucked away like it should. He’d been fighting for control ever since he’d met her, and the adrenaline rush from the takedown at the foundation hadn’t helped him will it away. He’d had to strategically shuffle sideways after helping her out of his Chevy. Afraid she’d rub against his damn boner on the way down. If he hadn’t actually witnessed the way she’d instinctively reached for Blade, only to remember a moment too late that her companion wasn’t there—hadn’t felt her pain, her fear as she’d fought back tears—he wouldn’t have been able to place her on his lap without jabbing her in the hip.

  But her distress had tempered his desire, and he’d managed to hold her without making a complete ass of himself. Having to explain why he was sporting an erection when she was worried about her best friend.

  Rigs closed his eyes, thinking through a few complicated training scenarios until his muscles eased, and he felt marginally back in control. All he needed were a few deep breaths and…

  Shit. He shouldn’t have inhaled because now all he could smell was the floral scent of her perfume mixed with the touch of citrus from her hair. And beneath that—hints of sulphur and smoke.

  He cinched his arms a bit tighter, listening to her heartbeat echo inside his chest until the sound eased the tumbling feeling in his gut. The one that couldn’t stop picturing all the ways she’d put herself at risk, now that she didn’t have Blade for a couple of weeks. How easy it would be for someone to take advantage of her, cop training or not. She couldn’t see a threat coming until it was on her—either touching her or sounding off a warning. Without Blade to come to her defense…

  Not going to happen. Rigs would see to it personally. Find a way to convince her she needed him close. He’d have to tread lightly. Word it in a way she wouldn’t think he was protecting her. If he’d learned anything about Addison Bailey, it’s that she didn’t want to be perceived as weak. And she wasn’t. But she was at risk.

  Her colleague’s words looped through his head as he removed his cell then hit Ice’s number. No way the man was sleeping, yet. Harlequin had been photographing the scene—making a documentary of sorts of what had happened. Maybe getting evidence for insurance. Whatever the reason, Rigs knew Ice wouldn’t leave Harlequin’s side for a second. And that was before armed men had burst into the auction.

  “What’s wrong, buddy? That pretty detective mess with your head so much you can’t remember the code to Quinn’s loft?”

  “I’m not at the loft. And I remember the code just fine.”

  “Your truck break down?”

  “Like I can’t fix it if it did. I have a question.”

  “The answer’s a resounding yes. You should absolutely get Addison Bailey’s number. And you should ask her out for coffee. Tomorrow, if not sooner. There’s got to be a twenty-four-hour café somewhere near you.”

  “Can’t. She’s sleeping.”

  “Wow. That was fast.”

  “Not with me, jackass.” He didn’t add that she was on him. Bad enough Ice knew Rigs was seeing double because of her. No need to give the man more ammunition. “She’s exhausted. Between the armed men and Blade getting shot…”

  “Of course. I didn’t mean to sound like an ass. Just…with all that sexual tension between you two, I thought maybe…” Ice sighed. “How’s my star patient? Any news?”

  “The big guy’s gonna be just fine, though he’ll be out of commission for a bit. I told the vet I’d bring Addison by tomorrow. Might make her feel better. She feels responsible, knowing he took a couple of bullets trying to keep her safe.”

  “Just like any good soldier would. So, what’s the question, then?”

  “Conversion disorder. You heard of it?”

  Ice blew out a rough breath. “Sure. Not that I’m an expert or anything. But I rescued a few guys who suffered from it for a while, afterward. Read up on it just for my own curiosity. Why?”

  “After you left, some of Addy’s colleagues showed up. Guess they heard the call go out over the police radio. Two of them were real douchebags. Anyway, one of them said she had hysterical blindness, and she corrected them by saying it was conversion disorder. I was hoping you’d fill me in. Explain how that translates into her being blind.”

  “That’s what she’s got? Shit. Do you know what preceded it? Generally, it stems from some kind of trauma, either physical or emotional, though usually both. And I’m not talking about a simple gunshot wound or a broken heart. Near death stuff.”

  “The assholes mentioned something about a raid, but… I haven’t had a chance to ask. It didn’t seem like the right time.”

  “Thinking there really isn’t a right time, Rigs.”

  “I’ll figure it out. But you haven’t told me what it is, and how she can be blind if her
eyes are fine.”

  “Conversion order isn’t really understood that well. Basically, it’s a psychological condition where a person has blindness, paralysis, or other neurologic symptoms that can’t be explained medically.”

  “How long does it last?”

  “Your guess is as good as anyone else’s. Often a few days or weeks, but it can be permanent if the patient can’t find a way to break through—overcome whatever psychological conditions are preventing them from getting better.”

  “Which means—”

  “She must have experienced something pretty fucking horrible. Maybe witnessed something her brain isn’t quite ready for her to process. Either way, there’s really nothing anyone else can do. It just takes time.”

  “So, there’s a chance she could see, again? Permanently?”

  “Sure. She could wake up in the morning and be just fine. Or…”

  “Or she could be blind for the rest of her life.”

  “It all depends on her. Has she had any kind of indicators that she might be recovering?”

  “She mentioned she’s been having flashes. She described them as snapshots of the room. It’s how she knew there wasn’t anyone else around when she fired at that tango. No idea when else she had them or for how long.”

  Christ, had she had one while they were in the garden? Had she seen his face? The scars?

  “That’s…encouraging. Not quite a benchmark, but the fact she’s gotten even a glimpse of sight back means she has a chance to beat it. You might want to see if she’ll talk about it. Maybe figure out if there’s a common element that triggers the flash, and try to recreate it. Unless it’s armed men about to shoot her. Pretty sure you wouldn’t survive another round of bullets aimed at your girl.”

  “She’s not my girl.” But damn if the thought didn’t flood his body with heat. Didn’t jerk his dick inside his pants—make his heart do a little dance inside his chest.

  “Right. Just like Quinn wasn’t mine after I’d driven her home from that bar.”

  “This isn’t the same. I’m not the same.”