The Officer's Promise (Brothers in Blue Book 1) (2 page)

“Excuse me, ma’am. Are you all right?”

My hand had a mind of its own, reaching out for her elbow, but she flinched away from my touch before I could make contact.

The rejection was a blow to my chest.

I held both hands up, letting her know I meant no harm.

“I’m fine,” she said, standing up straighter, ensuring her sunglasses were still in place.

Fuck, why did she look so familiar?

I extended my hand, unable to deny my need to touch her. “My name is Ryker. Yours?”

Her mouth parted on a gasp, and standing this close, I could make out the faint shape of her big round eyes underneath her glasses and knew they were a breathtaking color of blue.

No fucking way.

“Oh my God, Ryker Cunningham?”

My hand fell to my side as confusion swept through, along with a landslide of other emotions.

“MaryAnn Glover. Do you remember me?”

Remember?

How the hell could I ever forget?

She was the first girl I ever kissed.

The first girl I ever loved.

It killed me when she had to move away after her parents died in 9/11. They both worked in the Twin Towers, and her only living relative was her grandmother who lived in Oklahoma. After she left, I never heard from her again.

Memories began assaulting my mind one after the other, reminding me of the pain, the heartbreak that came from losing her. Something I thought I’d gotten over a long time ago. But I realized now I’d been fooling myself.

There was no getting over her.

My chest constricted with pain and a deep sense of longing, as I leaned down to pull her in for a hug. She wrapped her tiny arms around my neck, squeezing me tight.

I never wanted to let go.

I wanted to hold her hostage, demand answers. Why didn’t she keep her promise? Why did she return all of my letters, unopened? Why wouldn’t she talk to me?

But none of those answers mattered.

The only question I was worried about finding the answer to was how she got that black eye.

“I guess I should’ve known you’d become a cop. That’s all you talked about when we were kids,” she said in her small sweet voice with the slightest hint of a southern accent she must have picked up while living in Oklahoma. “And I suppose it’s a good excuse to eat doughnuts every day.”

I held her gaze. “I don’t eat doughnuts anymore.”

She shifted on her feet, my comment making her uncomfortable, but it was the truth. They didn’t taste the same without her. Nothing was the same after she left. Nothing
ever
looked the same.

Hell, the sun didn’t even shine the same.

“Ryker, I’m so sorry. I never meant to—”

“How’d you get the black eye?” I asked, interrupting her. That was my main concern.

The rest could wait.

She lifted her hand to ensure her glasses were still in place. “Oh, um, I accidentally ran into a door. I’m such a klutz.” She laughed but it was broken, and I could tell right away she was lying.

Not only that, but I’d been on more than my fair share of domestic calls, and I’d heard that line before.

Anger swelled in my veins.

“So, who’s the lucky guy?” I asked, nodding to her wedding ring.

The damn thing kept taunting me. It was big, gaudy. Unlike anything my MaryAnn would wear.

She’s not yours anymore, asshole.

“Ticket 183!”

“Well, that’s me. I have to go. Good to see you again, Ryker. Please tell Reese I said hello,” she said before rushing off, as if she couldn’t get away fast enough.

Every bone in my body screamed to chase after her, but my legs wouldn’t move. My mouth wouldn’t work. A war raged inside of me. So, I stood there, and watched helplessly as she walked out the goddamn door. And out of my life.

Again.

“C
an’t you do anything right? I swear you are so goddamn worthless,” Trent gritted through clenched teeth, snatching the tie away from me.

I tried to tie it twice already, but I couldn’t concentrate.

All I could think about was Ryker.

Seeing him last week had brought back a lot of memories. Things I’d buried a long time ago. The emotions he evoked made it impossible to think, much less complete important tasks.

Looking into those soulful eyes of his, I was reminded of what I’d lost, what love could be, and who I used to be.

“I’m so sorry, Trent,” I said, retreating, awaiting the blow I knew would follow.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you trying to provoke me?” He pulled the tie loose from its pathetic knot then reached for my wrist, gripping it tight and jerking me forward.

I stumbled slightly, fear consuming me.

Trent’s face hovered above mine, the smell of cologne and whiskey mixed with his simmering anger. “Now, I’m going to give you one more chance to get it right. I’d hate to have to mess up that pretty face before we go out.”

When he released my hand and lifted his chin, I cleared my mind of all thoughts, focusing on the base of his throat as I dutifully completed the task, perfectly this time.

Thank God.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would say you were trying to sabotage our evening,” Trent said, double-checking his reflection in the mirror as he finished straightening his silver tie.

Shaking my head, I held back the tears threatening to fall, swallowing hard.

“Of course not.”

He eyed me suspiciously, no doubt digging for a lie, but I was telling the truth. It had been months since he’d taken me anywhere. He hardly let me out of the apartment anymore, unless I was running errands for him.

A man’s home may be his castle, but mine was a cage, and I reveled in the release.

Even though this was a business dinner, and all I had to do was sit there and look pretty, I’d been looking forward to it all week. Being out in public with Trent was much safer than being alone. He was less likely to hit me. I could pretend everything was normal.

That I wasn’t living with a monster.

It hadn’t always been like this. There was a time when the devil didn’t live behind his cold, dark eyes. A time when I thought he would never hurt me.

We’d met on Valentine’s Day, of all days. I’d only been back in New York for a few months, starting my first semester at NYU, waitressing part-time at a little pub near the university. I had gotten a settlement after my parents died but my grandmother had only given me enough to pay for my tuition. The rest she put into an account I couldn’t touch until I was twenty-five.

Once I got settled, I had wanted to reach out to Reese and Ryker, but since I never heard from them, I hadn’t found the courage yet. What if they hated me? What if they’d forgotten about me? They’d probably moved on with their lives by now. The thought of going back to the place where I grew up hurt too much so I stayed away, trying to build myself a life in the city that I’d always called home.

Trent eyed me from across the room the entire night while I worked, but it was his buddy who had approached me and asked me out. I declined, of course, completely smitten instead by the man with the trusting brown eyes and expensive three-piece suit. However, his friend was persistent and wouldn’t take no for an answer. The guy kept touching me, and when I finally got angry enough to push him away, Trent stepped in and punched him. I found out later it was his employee and he’d fired him the very next day.

I think I fell in love with him right then and there.

But it wouldn’t have taken much, I suppose. I didn’t have much of a social life living with my grandmother. She was a hermit. A paranoid hermit. She wouldn’t let me go anywhere or do anything because she was afraid something would happen to me. She wasn’t very loving either, and refused to talk about my parents at all because she said it hurt too much.

So, by the time Trent found me, I was starving for affection, desperate to experience life and love, and I really didn’t look for the signs or think about the consequences of moving too fast.

He swept me off my feet right away. In the beginning, he was so sweet, charming. He never made me feel like a certain dark-haired boy with incredible blue eyes and a heart-stopping smile did, but he made me happy. For the first time since my parents, since I lost Ryker, I felt alive again.

Trent convinced me to drop out of school after he proposed just four months later. He was insistent I stay home, and while being a stay-at-home wife was not appealing to me, I desperately wanted a family.

It was three months after we were married when he hit me for the first time. I was stunned, of course; I’d never had a man hit me before. Not even my own father spanked me as a child.

It felt like someone had taken my heart out of my chest and cut it up right in front of me. I packed my bags right then and there.

But he told me he loved me.

Promised never to do it again.

Like a fool, I believed him.

From then on began a vicious cycle. Me doing everything I could to be the perfect wife. Him breaking me down each time I failed.

Hateful words seemed to hurt far more than his fists. The physical pain was less damaging to my soul, though both weakened me.

Broke me.

Eventually, I began to believe everything was my fault. And somewhere along the way I’d lost myself, trying everything I could to please him.

I thought I’d done a good job of that during dinner. I laughed at all the right things and smiled a lot. But when we got into the car to come home, I could tell Trent wasn’t happy. He didn’t say a word, which told me he was good and pissed about something. It was best not to ask though, that would only infuriate him more. If I’d done something wrong, he’d let me know sooner or later.

I always preferred the sooner, because the
later
would only compound the fear and anxiety even more.

But I didn’t have to wait very long.

Upon entering our apartment, the heel of his shoe met my lower back. Throbbing pain radiated throughout my lower body as I slid across the marble entry. I tried to curl up in a ball to prepare for the next blow, but I didn’t get the chance. His foot slammed into my stomach, knocking the breath from my lungs.

I gasped for air, inching across the floor in a meager attempt to escape. The tip of his leather shoe met my ribs, forcing me to roll over, howling in pain and struggling for air. His fingers curled in my hair, forcing me to look at him. A shiver raked across my skin at the pure hate I saw there.

“Trent, please, d-don’t. Please.”

“I let you out of the house for one night and you eye-fuck my biggest client.”

“I didn’t. I swear.”

“Don’t lie to me. I saw you. The way you smiled at him. The way you licked your lips each time he spoke to you or even paid you a little bit of attention. You eat that shit up, don’t you? Men looking at you. Wanting to fuck that pretty little cunt. Well, I think it’s time for me to remind you who you belong to.”

He spread my legs wide, fresh tears burning my skin as I surrendered to him.

I stopped fighting a long time ago.

“You better not fucking come.” His bourbon stained breath met my ear in a harsh whisper.

He doesn’t have to worry about that.

I couldn’t, even if I tried.

I
haven’t been able to stop thinking about her. Or the past. Like a ghost, my memories of her had haunted me for so long. When she moved away, I called every single day, but her grandmother said she didn’t want to talk to me or Reese, my twin sister and MaryAnn’s best friend. We found it strange, but we also understood she was going through a lot. She’d lost both of her parents in the most horrific act of terrorism this country had ever seen and subsequently uprooted from the only home she’d ever known.

Thoughts of her assaulted me constantly. Memories that had long been forgotten had begun to resurface, as well as all of the old feelings.

Feelings that had never gone away.

I never understood, after the promises we made to one another, why she wouldn’t return my calls.

The following week, she came in again. This time, she wasn’t wearing the sunglasses, and I was relieved to see her eye had healed. I knew it wasn’t a good idea to obsess over her, but for some reason, that ring on her finger did not stop me.