Breathe Me In (2 page)

She was out cold and her cheeks were leeched entirely of color. She looked like she was either a junkie twelve hours out from a fix, or like she hadn’t eaten in days. It didn’t look like the flu, because she didn’t have that high color to her face or glassy eyes when I’d been talking to her. Though I didn’t really believe it was drugs either, because she hadn’t shook and her gaze wasn’t jittery. I’d seen enough people detoxing in my days on the job to know what it looked like. I thought in all honesty that she was dead broke and that she was starving. Her cheeks were hollow, her frame much too thin. There had been dark circles under her eyes and that erratic walk someone gets when they’re barely keeping it together, pushing one foot in front of the other.

In the convenience store, I’d noticed her right away, because she stood out. She looked young, and harsh, yet vulnerable. For a second, I’d thought maybe she was a teen runaway. More likely she was running from an abusive baby daddy because she was older than I’d thought on first glance. Either way, the second I’d seen her slip the food into her bag, I had decided to follow her because, one, I’m a sucker, and two, I’m an idiot. Despite her prickly, okay, downright bitchy attitude, I had followed her out of curiosity and sympathy.

Damn it. I always did this. I found strays and hard-luck cases everywhere I went. I half wished I were the asshole she thought I was, but I didn’t mean it. My mom always said I’d been born to look after people, unlike my father. He’d run off and left six kids and sometimes, I envied him his callousness, because doing the right thing was a pain in the ass. Yet I couldn’t do anything but what was decent, because that was me, and so I’d followed her. It was a good thing I had because without me standing there, she would have dropped her child.

Spotting my sister I called out, “Kasey! I need you over here.”

Kneeling down into a squat, baby still tucked on my side, I checked the girl’s pulse, and her breathing. Everything seemed normal. If she wasn’t alert in thirty seconds though I was calling 911. She’d be pissed, I had no doubt, but I wasn’t about to let her go into cardiac arrest or something. A couple of people had stopped to see what was going on, but I waved them off, feeling like I had it under control. They were just rubbernecking, not offering actual help.

“OMG, Kane!” Kasey said, using her new college perky voice that I despised. “What is going on?”

“Here, hold the baby.” I shoved the kid at her and went for the diaper bag. “Give him some food.” This girl had lifted the food for a reason. The baby was probably hungry. I found the two bags of pureed whatever and handed them to Kasey. “Go sit down over there on the bench or something.”

“Is she dead?”

“No, she’s not dead. Do I look like I think she’s dead? For Chrissake.” I had thought college was supposed to improve a person’s intellect, but I swore to God, Kasey got stupider every single day she lived in that dorm. She had been home for the weekend for our mother’s birthday, and I was ashamed to admit, I’d been more than ready to take her to the bus station for her return trip to Boston. I couldn’t take the giggles and selfies.

As Kasey made a face, she took the food and walked with the baby three feet to the nearest bench.

Just as I was pulling my phone out to call for help, my free hand brushing the girl’s hair off her face, she came to with a start, sitting straight up, panic in her eyes. “Where’s my son?”

She tried to turn her head, her hands pressing to the floor to hold her up, her eyes momentarily rolling back into her head.

“He’s fine, I promise. My sister is feeding him right over there.” The baby had obviously been hungry. He was gripping the food pouch tightly and sucked enthusiastically.

Shit. That made me sigh, even as I was relieved the girl had come to and looked okay, just a little shaky. I couldn’t just walk out of this bus station without seeing the mother was okay. And I was going to have to pull out my wallet, because she needed a meal before she passed out again without me there to catch the kid. My eyes swung back to her. She was biting her lip and staring at her son, her shoulders sinking in relief. After giving a shuddery sigh, she went onto her knees and paused, like she couldn’t quite make it to a standing position.

If you looked past the hollow eyes and cheeks and the wretched dye job done on her beautiful blond hair, she was a pretty woman. There was something exotic about the length of her nose, the sharpness of her cheekbones. Her amber eyes.

“When was the last time you ate?” I asked her.

She glanced at me, her expression guarded. “I don’t know. Don’t worry about it.”

“How am I supposed to not worry about it? You passed out. I don’t think it’s the flu or drugs or diabetes, and you don’t look like the diet pill type, so my conclusion is you’re hungry.” When she didn’t respond, but tried to rise on shaky legs, I reached my hand out to take hers to steady her.

She ignored my offer of help. “Thanks, Sherlock. Now why don’t you go off and suck Watson’s dick and leave me alone.”

I didn’t like how easily she brought up dick sucking. That was twice now. It made me aware of my own sadly neglected cock and that was the last thing I needed right then. I was pretty sure she’d seen me looking at condoms and she was right. I’d been buying them to go out the following weekend and release some tension by getting laid. For some reason, her disdain made me uncomfortable.

“You’re welcome,” I said, because if she could be stubborn, I could be as well. “And you know, when someone shows concern for you, it is usually a good idea to not be a bitch to them.”

“I’ll remember that for when someone is showing me concern.”

Yep. Definitely stubborn. And because I’m a disgusting human being, I found it just a little bit sexy. I liked her feisty independence, her determination to take care of herself.

“Well, you know, I always hang around watching chicks pass out because there’s something in it for me.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m Kane Dermott, by the way. Yes, I am an off duty police officer. No, I’m not going to arrest you. I have no agenda, I just don’t want to see a baby that cute fall to the ground when his stubborn mother passes out again.” This time I forcibly took her hand, whether she liked it or not. Her skin was clammy, but she didn’t resist. Her cheeks even bloomed with a hint of color, like my touch unnerved her. “Now come on, unless you can prove to me that you have any money in your bag, I’m going to buy you a sandwich, then you can carry on with your life. No thanks even needed.”

She frowned, like she wasn’t sure what to say, or if she should believe me. Had literally no one been nice to this chick? That was pretty fucking sad, that she was suspicious of someone wanting to feed her a sandwich when she’d just hit the dirt. There it was again- my inability to mind my own business. My heart going soft. Me being a sucker. Maybe no one was nice to her because she was a bitch. But I knew most likely she was a bitch because people had taken advantage of her.

There it was- a protective surge. It happened far more than was convenient.

“Do you have a name?” I asked when she still didn’t respond.

There was a pause, like she was weighing whether or not she should tell me before she said, “I’m Anya.”

“Is that your real name or fake?”

The corner of her mouth turned up slightly. “I guess you’ll never know.”

That made me laugh. “I guess not. Okay, Anya, or Mary or Sara or whoever you are. Let’s grab your son and get you some lunch.”

Given the face she made at being called Mary and Sara, I decided her name really was Anya. It suited her. Exotic. That was definitely the word for her.

“Thanks,” she said, begrudgingly. “I left my purse on the bus by accident.”

“Do you want to borrow my phone and call someone to pick you up?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know the number by heart.”

That was probably everyone now. If I had to call any of my younger siblings, I wouldn’t know their numbers. “Is there another way you can contact them? Social media or anything?”

“I don’t have any of those accounts anymore.”

That seemed unusual to me. Everyone had at least one account, but then again, this didn’t look like a woman who had a lot of free time to post on Twitter or put foodie pics on Instagram. We approached Kasey and the baby and she reached out for her son.

“Thanks for feeding him,” she said to my sister. “I’m surprised he’s so calm. He’s not big on strangers normally.”

“Like his mother,” I commented wryly.

Anya shot me an annoyed glance. But instead of speaking, she just kissed the top of her son’s head. The baby was wearing a one-piece terry cloth pajama outfit and I wondered if she had other clothes for him. She was only carrying the diaper bag.

“How long are you visiting Portland?” I asked Anya casually as I took the empty food container from Kasey. “Kas, it’s about time for your bus.”

“Yep.” She stood up and gave me a one-armed hug. “Bye, bro. Keep it off the streets.”

I winced. “Don’t talk Douche. It’s not a good look on you.”

She laughed and waved to Anya. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Slinging her backpack over her shoulder, she walked away, not a care in the world. I’d never been that naïve. I hoped she would stay that way. Anya, on the other hand, looked like she’d never been anything other than fully aware of the hardships and bullshit in life. I guess we had that in common.

“So, who are you visiting?” I tried again, when I realized I hadn’t really given Anya a chance to respond.

“My… sister.”

That sounded like a lie. Or like there was a story there. “Do you need a ride?”

She shook her head. “I’m just going to walk there now. I don’t have a car seat and it won’t take me long.”

That really was taking stubborn to a whole new level. “You need to eat something first.”

“I’m fine.”

“Do you have any diapers, or any more food for the baby? What is his name, by the way?”

Her voice and her eyes softened when she glanced down at her son. “Asher.”

“Let me give you some money at least, so you can get a few things.” I pulled out my wallet. I had forty in cash and I tried to hand it to her. She physically took a step back.

Frustrated, I took the diaper bag from her in one angry motion and put the money inside the interior pocket. There was almost nothing in the bag. One diaper, a box of wipes, a pacifier, one pair of baby jeans, a onesie, a bra and panties, and a crumpled up empty brown bag with a grease spot on it, like it had held an egg sandwich or something. That was it. She seriously was traveling with nothing but the clothes on her back.

I dug a pen out of my jacket pocket and wrote my name and number on the old bag. “Look, if you ever need anything, a job, a new attitude, whatever, call me, and I’ll see if I can help. I have four sisters too, and they’re all good babysitters.”

Anya was playing with the stud in her lip with her tongue. Suddenly I had totally inappropriate thoughts centering around her mouth on my cock and how the cool metal would feel sliding down my length along with her hot tongue. She must have seen the growing lust in my eyes because she abruptly stopped.

“So if you don’t want a blowjob from me, what do you want as thanks?” she asked.

Taken aback, for a second, I wasn’t sure how to answer. If I told her the truth, that I didn’t want any thanks, I just wanted her to take care of herself and her son, she’d roll her eyes and wouldn’t believe me. And I did want a blowjob, just not as a thank you. I wanted it of her own free will and that was obviously never going to happen. She did not look like the type to hook up with law enforcement. I zipped the diaper bag and put it over her shoulder. “I want your phone number so I can check on you once you have a chance to replace your phone.”

She made a face. “Or harass me, you mean. Isn’t that police intimidation or something?”

Now I was the one rolling my eyes. She was definitely independent and determined to prove she could take care of herself. It was sexy as hell while at the same time totally annoying. “I’m not planning to threaten or blackmail you. I don’t get my kicks from strong-arming helpless women.”

I knew the use of the word “helpless” would irritate the shit out of her and it did. She blustered.

“I can just give you a fake number.”

I smiled at her. “I’ll have to trust you.”

“That’s just dumb.”

Maybe to her. But I was good at reading people and she might be suspicious and skeptical and street smart, but I also sensed she lived by her own moral code. “You’re going to want to pay me back. You look like that type.”

I pulled my phone out and opened a new contact. When I looked at her expectantly, she rattled off a number, her eyes narrowed.

“If you abuse this number, I’m calling the cops.” Then she realized what she said and abruptly burst out laughing. “Oh, my God, maybe I do need to eat. Now I’m as dumb as you.”

The sound was so free, so easy, her normally husky voice raising an octave in laughter. It opened up her eyes, relaxed her shoulders, turned her mouth upward. She had luscious lips that were perfect for drawing into my own mouth and sucking on. Time to exit before I became the disgusting asshole who suggested she come home with me for an hour or two.

“I’m not dumb, but I am definitely a sucker for a damsel in distress. Take care of yourself, Anya, and seriously, call me if you need anything.”

I was walking away when I heard her say sharply, “I need about a million things. But the forty bucks is a start. Thanks, Kane.”

Turning, I studied her, her defiant stance, her too thin body, her exhausted eyes, the tight grip she held on her son. “You’re welcome.”

Then I left, before I got creepy on her and insisted she take my ride and all the money in my bank account so she could keep her son safe, eat a burger the size of her head, and restore her hair to the original blonde it must have been.

Determined not to be weird, I didn’t even look back until I was shoving through the doors to the parking lot.

Anya was gone.

The second Kane the Cop, formerly known as Condom Guy, started walking away, I took off in the opposite direction. I was going into the convenience store to buy some supplies and call a cab before he changed his mind and came back. Either for his money or to show more alleged concern. I was too close to losing my shit, and in a thoroughly humiliating way. For a split second there, when he had been staring at me, his expression seeming pretty damn genuine, I had thought I was going to cry.