Page 29 of Detective for the Debutante (SAFE Haven Security #3)

MURPHY

I ’m on my way to Leigh’s when the police radio goes off in my car.

Since I’m technically off-shift, I move to turn it down when the call catches my attention.

Denial. Not just a river in Egypt .

I was already almost to Leigh’s house when the call came in and I don’t hesitate to flip a U-turn in the middle of the residential street, going as fast as I can back in the direction of her building.

I turn up the radio, hearing a second unit attach.

Fuck.

Don’t be Leigh. Don’t be Leigh .

But there’s a pit in my stomach as I reach for my phone, finding her contact while still trying to keep my attention on the road. The phone starts to ring and I hold my breath, several agonizingly slow heartbeats thudding against my chest before it goes to voicemail.

“Hi, you’ve reached Leigh…”

I hang up, tossing the phone back into the console and pressing my foot against the accelerator.

The car lurches forward and my fingers tighten on the steering wheel as I race back through town.

Horns honk around me as I weave in and out of traffic, and I catch a finger or two raised in my direction.

Oh fucking well.

A light shifts from yellow to red and I blow through it, the sound of horns echoing behind me.

A drive that should take me forty minutes or more at this time of day takes me fifteen minutes.

There’s a unit parked in the street, an officer standing in the driveway who I wave my badge at before he lets me turn into the parking lot on the side of the building.

Finding the closest open spot, I throw my car into park and notice the ambulance lights near the back of the lot, the doors wide open, with another police car next to it.

The pit in my stomach has only grown with the presence of the red and blue lights. A part of me had hoped I heard the address wrong. That Leigh would call me back and ask if I was still coming for dinner.

But my phone had stayed frustratingly silent.

I attempt to take a deep breath to calm my racing heart, and all I can do is remember Mom answering the door to the two officers. One of them Dad’s best friend. The way she had crumpled to the ground, her fingers still gripping the door frame.

My stomach rolls with the urge to get sick, but I catch my own gaze in my rearview mirror, repeating what I had heard on the radio.

“Unconscious but breathing,” I whisper.

It’s not the same .

But I still have no idea what I’m going to find.

I run my hand over my stomach, pushing down the urge to puke. This is the feeling I’d been avoiding by not getting close to her.

You did such a good job at that .

It was impossible. There was something about her I couldn’t resist. I didn’t want to. All I wanted was for her to be okay.

Please.

Repeating the word like a prayer, I rush from the car with my badge in hand.

I don’t run, not wanting to incite panic, but I move quickly, eating up the distance from my car to the lights and flashing my badge at the uniformed officer attempting to corral people back to allow the paramedics to do their jobs.

Please .

My heart is in my throat as I try to swallow.

The gurney is already out, resting against the ambulance. Her blonde hair comes into focus first, and a combination of rage and anxiety hits my body like a one-two punch.

Fuck.

I should have been here sooner.

She shouldn’t be lying there.

And I shouldn’t be falling for her.

My feet screech to a stop as the realization hits me.

I’m not sure when it happened, but I am.

And that scares the shit out of me.

Taking a deep breath, I push it out, refocusing on the moment and not my own internal battle.

Her face is pale, her eyes closed, and my hands fist by my side.

But they must have only been closed for the moment, her eyelashes fluttering against her cheek before they open to reveal her bright blue eyes that remind me of the Caribbean ocean dimmed like a storm has rolled in. But they’re open.

I relax my hands, my legs moving with a mind of their own. Bringing me closer to her.

She’s awake.

Thank fucking Christ.

“Leigh…” I say her name and her gaze jumps to mine, the relief in them hitting me squarely in the solar plexus, stealing my breath as easily as she steals another piece of my heart.

She lifts a hand and I close the distance, interlacing our fingers before she can even say my name.

“Baby, what happened?” I ask, searching her for obvious injuries, but aside from two angry red marks on each of her knees and dirt on her cheek, there are no obvious signs of trauma.

The knot between my shoulder blades releases a fraction. It could already have been so much worse.

She could have been ? —

I don’t allow myself to finish the thought, looking to the first responder checking her vitals before her cool hand squeezes mine and brings my attention back to her.

“I-I was leaving work and there was a guy in the parking lot. I didn’t see him until he was right here. He was looking for Kenneth.”

I can only imagine what scumbag was looking for Kenneth when he found Leigh.

“What did he look like, ma’am?” The uniformed officer is scribbling quickly in a notebook.

I want to bark at him to let her rest, but I know he’s only doing his job.

I’ve been in his shoes more than once. So I bite back the lecture, swallowing the overwhelming urge to sweep her up off the gurney and take her somewhere safe.

I console myself by running my thumb against the soft skin of her hand, finding the pulse point beating steadily in her wrist.

Its reassurance helps calm the beast in me. Until her eyes widen.

“What is it?” I murmur.

“He recognized me. He said he saw me with you before. In the lobby.”

Ellis.

Fuck me.

The man should be behind bars, and instead he’s attacked Leigh in broad fucking daylight.

Goddammit.

Why, though? Why is Ellis coming after Leigh ?

I can’t focus on that. The fury is like a tidal wave, hazing my vision in red. Anger at Ellis. And frustration because the report was changed. It allowed Ellis to get off on the technicality he needed to be free.

Because of fucking Kenneth Scott.

Ellis had been looking for him. And Leigh had been caught in the crosshairs.

But was she another of Ellis’s victims because of Kenneth? Or because of me?

I start to disentangle my fingers from Leigh, needing to do something—anything—to tamp down my anger, but Leigh’s grip tightens.

“Don’t leave,” she whispers.

The words are a whisper, but the effect is like an unbreakable chain.

“I’m not going anywhere, Stóirín.” I keep my voice low, leaning down to brush my lips against her forehead before I turn to the officer still next to the gurney. “His name is Ellis. Vinny Ellis. I’ve run into him here before, and last time he and I had some words.”

The responding officer continues to take notes.

“Grab whatever witness statements you can. I don’t want him to get away with this,” I tell him.

Maybe I’m overstepping my bounds, but I don’t fucking care.

Someone attacked Leigh which leaves those boundaries more flexible than before.

He nods. “I’m familiar with Ellis, sir. Picked him up last year on a drug charge.”

“There’s security footage.” The middle-aged woman with shocking red hair speaks up from where she stands next to Leigh. “You’ll need a warrant.”

“Who are you, ma’am?”

“JoAnna. JoAnna Kirby. I work here with Leigh.”

The paramedic finishes his exam of Leigh, and she struggles to sit up.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” I ask her.

“I want to go home,” she says with a determination that worries me.

“The only place you’re going is the fucking hospital.”

That’s the wrong thing to say based on the thin line her lips form.

“Not in that, I’m not. I’ve had enough of ambulances to last a lifetime.” She shudders, and the memory of the night Cole and I rescued Hannah Grace and Leigh swims to the surface. “He says I can drive myself. That I’m okay—” She gestures to the EMT, who steps in.

“I said I think everything appears okay based on the exam I was able to do. But I didn’t say anything about you driving yourself. You need a head CT and a licensed doctor to confirm you don’t have a head injury.”

“Head CT? You hit your head?” I ask, the rush of moving from caveman ready to fight to concern for her a dizzying rush of emotion.

“He hit her. In the back of the head,” JoAnna speaks up from behind me.

My attention stays focused on Leigh, who bites her lip to stop it from trembling, but she can’t hide the sheen of moisture building in her eyes.

“I-I didn’t see it…I just remember a sharp pain and then falling on the asphalt.”

“And then she passed out,” JoAnna adds from behind her.

“You’re going to get checked out,” I tell her.

“And I will. But not in that.” She points to the ambulance before crossing her arms and setting her jaw. Fuck. I’m not sure if I should carry her to the ambulance or kiss her.

“Ma’am, I highly recommend it. You can refuse transport, but if you were my girlfriend, I wouldn’t want you driving,” the paramedic says.

A possessiveness unlike anything I’ve ever experienced overrides every other emotion. She’s not his. She’s mine.

Mine .

“I’m fine. I just have a headache.” She says the words, but I can see the stubborn mask slipping.

Her bravado is crumbling.

“Stóirín,” I murmur, lifting my hands to her jaw and cupping her face gently. “Please. You don’t have to go in the ambulance if you don’t want to. But I do want them to tell you you’re okay. It will give me some peace of mind.” Because I can’t imagine if something did happen to her.

“I—” She’s gearing up for another battle by the way she squares her shoulders.

My little warrior.

But she doesn’t have to be so brave.

And I, for one, would feel a whole lot better verifying she really is okay.

“I’ll drive you there myself. You won’t have to go in the ambulance. And I’ll stay with you the whole time. You don’t have to go alone,” I promise.

I don’t blame her for not wanting to ride in another ambulance. The last one—the night when we met—was a traumatic enough event for her. She doesn’t need to add more stress to a potential injury.

“She really should go in the ambulance. But she wouldn’t let us put the stabilizer on,” the paramedic grumbles, referencing the neck brace I’ve seen used a few times when I responded to traffic accidents.

I fight the smile twitching at the corner of my lips while I point at the medical professional.

The sassiness is a welcome sign—she is the same woman who draws me to her like a moth to a flame. But I still want reassurance.

“Please, Stóirín,” I whisper. “I’m sure you’re right and you are okay, but…”

I’m not able to finish the sentence, thoughts of my parents crowding out the words.

Whatever she’s able to see must convince her. Her jaw relaxes and she lifts her hands to lightly grip my wrist.

“You’ll drive me?” she asks, hints of vulnerability becoming more apparent.

Relief is a welcome rush through my blood.

I nod. “I will.”

“And stay with me?” she asks.

“Nothing will stop me,” I promise.