“Are you ready?” my partner asks.
I nod. “Hell yeah. I want him to face what he’s done.” I could never harm Greta. Even if she never wanted to be with me, so I can’t even picture what this asshole did to his family. He butchered them, blamed an intruder and then went on the run when all the evidence pointed to him as the only possible suspect.
I have a job to do and it’s not one I take lightly, so I do my best to give my sole focus to my mission. My team is ready to make the arrest, so I take a deep, calming breath and then exit my vehicle. I pull out my gun and quietly and quickly rush to the front door where Taylor’s been hiding out. With a loud pounding, I call out, “Taylor, it’s the Boston PD. Open up.”
That’s all I get out as a gun blast shoots straight through the front door, and I’m down. Burning pain rips through my arm and leg. My men fire back into the house as two team members pull me away from the scene. As I lose consciousness, I regret not kissing Greta even once.
****
I don’t know when I wake up, but I do to the sound of a machine beeping. My head’s groggy, but I don’t feel entirely out of it or at least I don’t think so. I turn my head to see my father sitting by my bed, eyes red-rimmed and glossy.
“Fuck, you’re awake,” my dad’s gruff voice chokes out, clearly full of emotion as his gaze meets mine.
“Dad,” I mutter, but I’m not sure if he can hear me. “Get him?”
“They got him. He’s dead,” he snarls. Even in my less than alert state, I see what he’s thinking. He’d kill him if he could.
“Dean, my baby,” my mother sobs running into the room. She freezes as if she’s afraid to touch me. Then I see that my sister Emily is by her side. I don’t miss that there’s another shiny dress behind her.
“You didn’t have to get dressed up to see me,” I tease.
“Well, I didn’t. Someone had to go and ruin my prom by trying to get himself killed. Stupid jerk,” Emily cries, pressing her head to mine. I don’t know the extent of the damage, but I can feel my limbs, so it’s not as terrible as it could have been.
“I’m sorry. I’ll take you out dancing one day. If I can, that is.”
“Thankfully, the doctor says you will. It was a close one.” My dad grips my hand and I feel his strength and pain. My mother hasn’t stopped touching my sheet on me as if she’s scared to hurt me.
“Give the boy a hug already, Angel,” my dad growls, patting her ass as always.
“I don’t want to hurt my baby.” She continues to cry, and I feel like an asshole for letting her worry. She does her best to be gentle, so I wrap my good arm around her and give her a nice squeeze.
“I’m sorry, mom.”
“You’re coming home to stay with us and recover. Then you’re quitting your job. I don’t care. End of story,” she demands. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen my mother so angry and sad at the same time.
“I am quitting.” My inheritance kicks in soon and thanks to my father it’s grown over the years. I’ll do my best to find a new career to support my family once Greta and I start one because we sure as fuck will.
I hear a sob come from the doorway, and I know it’s my future wife. “Greta, you can come give me a hug too.”
Emily brings her close and I see her gown and let out a growl. “I’m sorry I ruined your night, Greta.”
“I’m sorry that you’re hurt. You could have died.” She leans in and gives me a gentle hug, but I need more. I slide my good arm around her waist and press her firmly to my chest.
“Then I would have missed seeing your beautiful face one more time.” She blushes and I want to drag her down to me and taste those parted lips. But a cough from behind her interrupts where my hazy mind was going. I loosen my grip as she pulls away.
“Hello, I’m Dr. Pamela Marsden, Detective Evans. How are you feeling?” Besides the growing ache in my balls, and pain on one side of my body I feel fucking fantastic. I don’t say that though.
“I can’t wait to get out of here.”
“You just woke up.”
“And I’m grateful for that, but I need to get moving.”
“You’re not going to be moving for some time. Although we were able to save your life and limbs, your femur broke in your leg and your muscles were damaged in your arm. So you’ll be resting and recovering in this room. Maybe in a day or two you can be released, but until then you have to be a good boy and rest.”
I don’t want to be in here, but I suppose it’s better than being six feet under.
Chapter Two
Greta
We step out of the room as they do their examination of Dean, except for Mr. Evans who stays for moral support. The hospital’s filled with officers waiting on news, including his partner Detective McKnight. Several of them look at me with questions in their eyes because they probably know I’m not family.
Still, they can stare and judge all they want because my mind is on Dean. My heart’s slamming against my chest as every nerve holds onto the memory of Dean’s possessive touch and tender words. The family is talking in a small huddle off to the side, but I just lean against the wall for all the physical support I can get. My knees ache to crumble as the weight of everything hits me, so I close my eyes and take several deep breaths.
The sound of heels comes closer and then I feel someone lean against the wall next to me. I open my eyes to see my best friend staring at me.
“Are you okay?” I ask her.
“I came to ask you the same thing.”
Does she think Dean and I have some secret romance going on? “Emily, I don’t know what happened in there.”
She rolls her eyes and scoffs, “Please. You enjoyed my brother copping a feel, but it’s still too soon for him to approach you.”
“You’re not bothered by it?” I question. Emily should be ticked. I don’t want her to think that’s the only reason I’m around. I’ve learned a long time ago that seeing Dean was a pipe dream, but I still love hanging with Emily. She makes me feel like I have a sister.
She pulls me in for a hug and then leans back, gripping my biceps. “Girl, you’ve been in love with my brother for nearly a year now.”
“It’s a year today,” I confess. Dean picked me up after midnight a year ago and I’ll never forget those gorgeous eyes with softness staring at me, begging me to trust him. I have and despite the past year of him avoiding me, I can’t stop the emotions I feel toward him. I gravitate to the man even to the point to pass by his condo on the off chance that he might see me. It makes no sense and yet, I can’t pull away. I’ve had several options for a prom date and decided I’d rather just go with Emily because a part of me felt like I was betraying a man I couldn’t have.
“Exactly,” she says, patting my nose. “You remember the exact date you two met.”
I huff, pulling away and returning to my post on the wall as I let my frustrations sink in. “So why can’t we be together? The state of Massachusetts law is sixteen.” I know most people would frown upon it, but I would sure as hell be happy. Hell, I’m nearly eighteen now.