Protecting the Pregnant Witness. Julie Miller

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СКАЧАТЬ the pool of blood staining his knees, he knelt down beside Aaron.

      “Aaron?” Those deep blue eyes, set between lines of laughter and wisdom, struggled to focus. Rafe scooped up his partner’s beefy hand and squeezed it, drawing Aaron’s attention. “I got ya, Sarge. Hang in there. The ambulance is on its way.”

      Aaron’s scarred-up boxer’s paw tightened weakly around Rafe’s fingers. A breathy hint of his Americanized brogue whispered, “Did we get ’em?”

      “I shot the tire and they spun out. Save your energy. Don’t talk.” His hand was cold. There was too much blood. Rafe lifted his head and shouted wildly. “Medic! I need a medic!”

      The thick fingers convulsed around Rafe’s. “This one’s bad, sonny. No doctor can help me.”

      “That’s Irish bull. You stop bleedin’. You hear me?”

      Aaron’s pale, trembling lips curved in a familiar grin. “Givin’ me orders. Who outranks who?”

      “Just trying to keep you around, old man.” He wanted to apply pressure to the wound bleeding so profusely at the back of his head. But that meant rolling him over, and Rafe was certain from each shallow wheeze for breath that there were internal injuries and that moving him could make things worse. Rafe’s eyes filled with tears and he swiped away the useless evidence of emotion to keep his partner’s face in focus. “Aaron, tell me what to do.”

      Aaron’s eyes grew distant. He knew he was dying. He knew. “You’re a good cop. I knew you would be. I’m proud of you, son.”

      The faint trill of his native Irish accent was evident even with each gasp. He’d brought his son to this country when his first wife had died. His second wife had given him a daughter and divorced him. He was the best KCPD had to offer. He’d been through too much. He didn’t deserve to die like this.

      Fluid gurgled in Aaron’s throat. “Rafe?”

      “I’m right here. What do you need?”

      He summoned his strength and squeezed Rafe’s hand one last time. “You take care of my Josie. Patrick, too. This’ll be hard on them. They need someone to depend on.”

      Rafe nodded. “I’ll be the big brother they never had. Until you get better.”

      “You’ll…need family, too.”

      “You’re my family. Now shut up. Save your strength.”

      “Got to say this… A father worries…” Rafe wouldn’t know. The man who’d sired him hadn’t worried about anything but his booze and keeping child services out of his hair. Years of practice shut down the memories of pain and anger and betrayal that tried to rear their ugly head. Aaron needed him. His bloody fingers were scratching blindly across his belt. “Where’s my badge?”

      “Here.” Rafe plucked the scuffed-up badge off the pavement and put it into his hand before pulling them both onto Aaron’s chest. “Your badge is right with you, Sarge. Feel it?” The blue eyes drifted shut. “Sarge! Stay with me!”

      They opened again. “Take care of my girl. Such a good heart. She has…crush…on you.”

      “I know. With you watching over my shoulder, nothing will ever happen.”

      “No, I…damn.” A shallow rale stuttered through his chest.

      “Aaron?”

      “Watch Patrick…he’ll fight ya.”

      “I can handle him.”

      His eyes opened and closed in lieu of a nod. “I love them. Tell ’em that.”

      “I will.”

      “You’re…better man…than you think.”

      The tears chafed beneath his eyelids. “Quit talking like you’re—”

      “Promise me…protect them.”

      And then Aaron’s scrappy boxer’s fist went slack. His eyes glazed over and he was gone.

      “I promise.”

       Chapter One

      November—Ten Years Later

      Rafael Delgado wore jeans, a badge and black leather well.

      As he uncrossed his long legs and pulled away from the black heavy-duty pickup he’d been leaning against in the nearly deserted parking lot behind Kansas City’s Shamrock Bar, Josie Nichols got a glimpse of the gun he wore on his belt, too. She smiled, unafraid, her pulse doing its customary flutter at the broad shoulders and fluid stride of the man who’d waited in the dark to walk her to her car nearly every night since she’d taken the job tending bar at her uncle’s tavern four years earlier.

      But then Rafe had been looking out for her almost ten years now, ever since he’d made a promise to her father—his first partner at KCPD—on the night Aaron Nichols had died.

      Josie locked the Shamrock’s back door and shook off the sadness that tightened her shoulders at the memory of her father’s senseless slaughter in the line of duty. She could hear the assurance of booted footsteps crunching on the asphalt behind her. The shadows wouldn’t be so scary tonight. The loneliness she lived with wouldn’t prick so sharply. Chivalry was not dead. At least not in Rafe’s book. She tucked the keys into her backpack and fixed a teasing smile on her face before turning to meet him.

      “You know, Uncle Robbie installed a security camera back here. And the city put in an extra light. You don’t have to wait and walk me to my car after closing every night.” It was hard to miss the lack of an answering smile on his ruggedly sculpted features. “Especially when you’ve put in a long day like this one.”

      “It’s no trouble.” The flat response was a recitation of duty. Her heart squeezed at the exhaustion she heard in his gravelly tone, and she simply fell into step beside him when he took her elbow and walked her toward the beat-up Ford compact parked beside his shiny, supersize truck. “You warm enough in this?”

      “I’m fine.”

      “I can buy you a new winter coat if you need one.”

      “No, you won’t. And I don’t.”

      “Damn it, Jose—are you going to argue every little thing I say to you tonight?”

      “Whoa.” Josie planted her feet, forcing him to halt. What the heck? She tipped her chin to try to decipher the sharp bite to his tone. “What’s going on?”

      A white cloud of breath formed in the chilly November air at his chest-deep sigh. “Sorry. I’ve got too many things running through my mind to be civil, I guess.”

      “Rafe?”

      “Just walk.”

      She might have imagined the slight tremble she’d felt in his long fingers before they wound around the sleeve of her insulated jacket and resumed their pace across the parking lot. But she wasn’t as concerned СКАЧАТЬ