Dark Blue (South Island PD Book 1) (28 page)

No matter how well his wounds healed, Jackson was in for a shitty season. As for the possibility of his leg healing badly – that didn’t bear thinking about.

She’d gotten to know him well enough to realize that his job meant a lot to him – that he equated it to his worth as a person. There was no way being sidelined was going to sit well with him.

The salty taste of blood kissed the tip of her tongue, and she realized she’d been biting her lip.

She sighed, careful to keep her breath hushed.

Sleeping was the last thing she wanted to do. Her arms ached with the desire to be wrapped around Jackson, and she fought the almost irresistible urge to touch him. She wanted to hold him, to tell him that she’d never been more afraid than when she’d been told he’d been shot.

She wanted to tell him she loved him, but there was a time for everything, and now wasn’t it.

Even after she woke up, it took Belle a few seconds to realize she’d fallen asleep. Her dreams had been fragmented and confusing, as uncomfortable as the chair she’d spent the night in. Even more uncomfortable, though, was the realization that she was the last one awake.

Somehow, Jackson had woken up and Elijah had entered the room without her noticing. Blinking sleep from her eyes, she stretched quickly and rose from the chair.

The entire room smelled like bacon.

Elijah raised a brown paper bag with a Tempest Café logo stamped on the side. “Morning. I brought breakfast for you both – your coffee’s right here, Belle.”

She nodded, inhaling deeply. “Thank you so much.”

Her tongue felt like a moss-covered piece of sand paper. With any luck, hot coffee would help.

The dark circles beneath Jackson’s eyes didn’t look quite as pronounced as they had the night before. Maybe it was just the morning light, but it was encouraging.

Elijah lifted to-go boxes from the bag. “Brought your usual, Jackson. Same for you, Belle.”

The food smelled great, but… “Are you sure you should be eating something so rich so soon after surgery?”

“It’s fine,” Jackson said.

He and Elijah exchanged a glance.

“Hurry up and eat before the nurse comes back,” Elijah advised. “Just in case.”

Jackson ate his way around the container, alternating between pieces of bacon and beignets, as if he were afraid he’d be interrupted and wanted to make sure he got to both before that could happen.

Belle didn’t say anything else about it. If he had an appetite, that had to be a good sign.

“Did you get any sleep last night, Elijah?” Belle asked. He seemed alert enough, but he had to be tired.

He looked up. “Are you kidding me? I can’t fall sleep until my roomie comes to bed. Last night was brutal – I laid awake for hours.”

Jackson exhaled, rolling his eyes. “Don’t listen to him, Belle.”

Belle bit her lip, surprised by the smile that crossed her lips.

“Didn’t he tell you we share a one bedroom place?” Elijah asked. “It’s just so much more affordable than a two bedroom.”

“Not true.”

 Elijah flashed Jackson a grin. “Aw, look – the color’s coming back into your face. You don’t look half-dead anymore. The hospital should put me on the payroll.”

Jackson met Belle’s gaze as he swallowed a bite of beignet. “We have separate rooms.”

Belle couldn’t help it – she laughed.

Jackson didn’t, but he did put away two and a half beignets before slowing down.

He looked up at her and dusted sugar from his fingertips. “You look like hell, Belle.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Still beautiful,” he said, “but tired. You’ve got purple circles beneath your eyes.”

“I’m fine. How are you feeling?”

“Better than last night.”

“The nurse came in about twenty minutes ago with medication,” Elijah added.

Belle felt mildly guilty for having slept through it. Nodding, she toyed with another beignet. She was just about to ask whether the nurse had said when the doctor would be in when a knock came at the door.

It was swiftly followed by the creaking of hinges, and a slim forty-ish woman with blonde hair down to her shoulders walked inside, clad in jeans and a t-shirt. Her look was casual, but there was something about the way she moved that wasn’t.

“Calder,” she said, approaching the bed. “I hope this isn’t a bad time.”

Jackson and Elijah both looked at the woman as if she were a female Lazarus, risen from the dead.

“Not a bad time, Lieutenant,” Jackson eventually said. “Don’t you have more important places to be than here, though?”

So, this was Lieutenant Aldred. She had fair skin and a jaw that was accented by a scar running along the edge.

“I called in a favor with a friend – she’s with my mother now. Do you know when the last time an officer in my platoon was shot was?”

“No.”

“Three years ago, and the bullets only hit his vest. He walked away with a couple cracked ribs.” She lowered her gaze to where Jackson’s left leg rested, elevated above the other one. “This concerns me, especially given the uncertainty surrounding Sanders and what he was or wasn’t doing when you were shot.”

Her jaw tensed almost imperceptibly – Belle only noticed because her gaze had drifted back to her scar.

Jackson’s expression darkened, lines scoring his brow. “I had my body cam on during the entire encounter, Lieutenant. It should be a pretty good record of what happened.”

“I know – I’ve already watched the footage.”

His eyes widened, momentarily erasing the lines above his brows.

“I don’t like what I saw. I know you need rest, Calder, but I want you to know that I’ll be following the investigation as closely as I can while I’m on leave. I hope to be back in a couple weeks.”

He nodded.

“I’m sorry you were shot,” she said, “but you likely saved a life. I hope your recovery goes smoothly – I want you back at work. You’re a good officer.”

His expression was unreadable. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“Some other officers will be by before long to ask you some questions. I know you’re hurting, but it’s important.”

“Right. They can come by whenever; I’m not going anywhere.”

Lieutenant Aldred’s lips thinned in what might’ve been an attempt at a smile, and her gaze drifted to the takeout box displaying bacon, eggs and half a beignet. “You’re eating this greasy crap already?”

“Uh-huh.”

She nodded. “Seems like a good sign. Enjoy.”

She left, and the hospital room was cloaked in sudden silence.

“See?” Elijah said after a few seconds. “Told you Sanders would get what’s coming to him. The video must make him look bad – she seemed pissed.”

“She already disliked him,” Jackson said. “Others might not see it the same way.”

Elijah moved his shoulders, as if shrugging off the notion. “He didn’t do a damn thing while those bullets were flying. And it wasn’t just you he hung out to dry – it was the female victim, too. You took out the shooter from the floorboards, with bullet holes in your body. How much sooner could Sanders have stopped him if he hadn’t had his head up his ass?

“He was hiding below the porch,” Jackson said, his brows drawing together. “I remember that pretty well. He almost didn’t even approach the house with me – he wanted me to Sam out the call without checking to see whether things were okay.”

Elijah nodded. “Big surprise.”

“What will the consequences be for Sanders if it’s determined he purposely endangered you and that woman?” Belle asked.

“He’d better lose his badge,” Elijah said. “If this isn’t proof that he’s not cut out for the job, I don’t know what is.”

It was true, but would everyone see it that way? God, she hoped so.

She tried not to think about how Sanders had gotten away with abusing his wife with no consequences. The idea of him getting away with this too was sickening.

There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that his failure to act the night before had been due to his dislike of Jackson.

“Fuck,” Jackson groaned.

“What?” Belle’s gaze snapped to his face, which looked a shade paler than it had seconds ago.

“Don’t think those beignets are gonna stay down. Maybe you were right.”

He looked and sounded so miserable.

Elijah was already reaching for a plastic basin, which left Belle to sit empty-handed and wonder – again – how drastically Jackson’s life would be reshaped by what had happened.

* * * * *

For the first time Jackson could remember, it was hard to be alone with Belle. He felt his own mortality like a stone in his shoe, and it made everything uncomfortable – even being with her.

She was beautiful and perfect, just like she’d been the day before, and the day before that. In contrast, he was a bloody, puking mess confined to a hospital bed.

He didn’t like the way the tables had turned, or the glaring difference between them. Things were too uncertain to bear, and yet, he had to.

It was almost lunchtime and she hadn’t left his hospital room. She’d slept like shit on a vinyl chair and the circles beneath her eyes seemed to get darker by the minute. Officers from the department had already come by to ask him questions, and the doctor had evaluated his wound. When Jackson had pressed him, he’d said that he could go home in a couple days as long as there were no signs of infection.

He could tough out a couple more days in the hospital – it was afterward that he was worried about. When the wounds healed, would his leg work as well as it had before? It’d taken two bullets and one of them had gotten stuck. There might be nerve damage.

It was too soon to tell whether he’d be shackled with a lifelong consequences.

He hoped to fuck he wasn’t, because the idea made him want to vomit again. He’d worked too hard and overcome too many disadvantages to lose the job he loved over a physical injury.

“Jackson?” Belle sat in a chair she’d pulled up close to the bed. “Elijah texted and said his mom is planning to swing by with lunch.”

It was embarrassing, being babied that way by someone else’s mother in front of Belle. But he knew Lorraine Bennett well enough to know that she wouldn’t be talked out of coming.

“Okay.”

“She seems really nice. And the food she brought last night was good.”

“She’s a great cook. Since she’ll be coming by soon, why don’t you go home?”

Belle frowned. “Is my company getting old or are you just trying to look out for me?”

“I’m fine, Princess.” He tried to inject levity into his voice, but it’d been raspy ever since he’d woken up after the surgery – he had the breathing tube to thank for that. “Get a shower and some sleep. It’s not like I’m on my deathbed.”

He could only hope she’d take the bait and leave – go take care of herself. Seeing her miserable for no reason was eating at his conscience, and he didn’t like being showcased in such a pathetic light in front of her.

The pain medications they had him on helped him to bear the embarrassment, but he felt it getting worse when the doses began to wear thin. He could only imagine what shit he’d feel like when he was out of the hospital and off the brain-fogging drugs.

“I’m tired and I’m not at my freshest, but I don’t want to leave.” She touched his hand, her fingertips sweeping over his knuckles. “Would you want to if the situation were reversed?”

Hell no, he wouldn’t. But that was irrelevant.

“I’m just gonna sleep anyway. At least go grab a shower. You won’t miss anything.”

Her frown deepened, then wavered. “Okay, but I’ll be back afterward. Is there anything you want me to bring you?”