When Love Matters Most. Kate James

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       CHAPTER THREE

      AS IT TURNED OUT, Logan wasn’t back at the division when Rick got there. He’d apparently gone from the hospital straight to the scene of the shooting. Couldn’t blame him. Rick would’ve done that, too, if he hadn’t been with Zeke. In fact, he might just go there now, catch up with Logan at the scene.

      “Where’re you going, Pitbull?” Shannon Clemens, the sole female officer in their unit and one of the most recent additions to their team, called out to him as he started to pack up his gear. “You just got here.” She made a sweeping motion around the mostly empty squad room. The few cops who were present had their eyes on him. “Everyone’s asking what we’re going to do about Jeff. About what happened to him.”

      Rick ran his fingers through his hair for what must have been the thousandth time that day, something he did when he was frustrated or overtired. “If I knew anything, I’d tell you. But I don’t. Not any more than you already know.” There’d been no updates since Jeff had gone back into the OR. He looked around, scanned the furious faces. They were all aware of what had gone down and praying for Jeff to pull through.

      “The good news is Zeke’s going to be okay.” He could at least give them that much. “I’m going to try to catch Logan in the field.”

      “You won’t get him there,” Shannon said. “I was just speaking with Dispatch. Jagger’s coming in,” she said. “But he plans to make a couple of stops first.”

      She took a long look at Rick, so intense and appraising it made his skin itch. He was just about to ask, “What?” when she continued.

      “You might not have been involved in the incident, but you look as though you could use some downtime. Why don’t you go home? Get some rest. We’ve got the debrief tomorrow morning anyway. I’d bet that both you and Logan will be in before it starts. You can see him then.”

      Rick felt the need to act. To do something. But what Shannon said was true. He probably looked like hell—and she was just showing her concern. He finished stuffing everything in his bag and slung it over his shoulder.

      “You’re right, and thanks,” he said to Shannon, giving her shoulder a light pat as he walked by. “See you all tomorrow,” he said.

      * * *

      DESPITE A RESTLESS NIGHT, Rick couldn’t remember a single dream or nightmare, for which he was thankful. He’d believed the events of the day before would bring the nightmares back to haunt him, but he’d gotten a solid five hours of uninterrupted sleep. That wasn’t bad under the circumstances. He’d woken twenty minutes before his alarm was set to go off. Since then, he’d been lying wide-awake, listening to Sniff snoring softly on his own bed.

      Rick folded his arms under his head and stared up at the ceiling. Why his thoughts kept veering back to the new vet he couldn’t say, especially when he had so much else to occupy him. Well, he supposed he did have an idea why. He was intrigued, and it was more than her looks. She’d gone toe-to-toe with him and in a manner of speaking had won. She’d gotten him out of the way, not backing down when he was at his belligerent worst. And she’d done her job. He thought of himself as a nice guy, a gentleman—thanks to the Stewarts and how they’d raised him—but he certainly hadn’t left Madison with that impression.

      He knew exactly what his mother, Hillary, would have to say about his behavior. He smiled ruefully. He was twenty-nine years old and just short of six-three, and it was his mother, maybe five-four and a hundred and fifteen pounds, who could put the fear of God into him.

      As he climbed out of bed and turned off his alarm, he resolved two things. He’d apologize to the veterinarian. Maybe even surprise her, stopping by the clinic to bring her a bunch of flowers or make some other conciliatory gesture. Second, he was well overdue for a visit with his family. He wasn’t shy about admitting that he missed his parents. He’d set that up today, too. Plan a get-together for the weekend, if Sophie and Daniel were available.

      He didn’t accomplish either of those goals over the course of the day. Jeff hadn’t survived the night, and that had cast a pall over the debrief they had that morning.

      Everyone was both grieving and fueled up to bring justice to those responsible. Rick had barely had time to take restroom breaks; it was insanely busy at the division. When he’d found a rare moment to check on Zeke’s condition, Heather, the clinic’s regular receptionist, advised him that Madison was unavailable but Zeke was doing well. She also informed him that Logan had already arranged for the unit’s admin, Beth, to stay in touch with her for regular progress reports. Rick’s opportunity to make casual contact with the veterinarian and attempt to redeem himself was lost.

      The important thing was that Zeke was recovering, and the risk of infection was diminishing with the passage of time.

      The division had set a plan in motion to track down the men responsible for killing Jeff, bring them to justice and, if everything worked out, take down the Los Zetas Cartel’s operations in California. It was a bold plan, not without risk, and would require cooperation from a number of policing entities on both sides of the border. Rick had volunteered to co-lead it with the captain of the SDPD’s Narcotics Task Force. That was the least he could do.

      * * *

      IT HAD BEEN one emergency after another at the clinic over the past three days since Zeke had arrived. Even her regular appointments had created challenges. Daisy was a perfect example, Madison thought, while she cleaned up after seeing the skittish little bull terrier. Daisy had been in for a routine checkup and her shots, but she’d been so nervous, she’d emptied her stomach and her bladder during the examination. Madison shook her head. She hadn’t managed to get out of the way quickly enough. As a result, she’d had to change, and one of the techs had to do a cleanup in examination room three.

      Despite days like this, Madison loved her job, and she loved the groundbreaking research she was doing at the San Diego Animal Rehabilitation Center.

      She was very excited and confident about the progress she and the center’s team were making in the area of platelet-rich plasma therapy. The opportunity to participate in the PRP research and what it would mean for tens of thousands of injured animals had been the key reason for her move to San Diego from El Paso, Texas, where she was raised and where her father still lived.

      She’d done her homework before making the move, of course. The San Diego rehab center was the best and most advanced in the country in her area of interest. They also had the necessary funding, an essential consideration since the research was costly. In addition, they gave her free rein with her secondary interest—advanced aqua therapy. The opportunity had been compelling enough for her to leave her father, the only family she had.

      She took a moment to think of Patrick Long, Supreme Court judge and the best father anyone could hope for. СКАЧАТЬ