His pulse flared, but that shit about old habits was real.
This time, he stepped toward her, cutting the distance between them to inches. “The standard answer when someone says ‘thank you’ is usually ‘you’re welcome’.”
“Oh,” Tara breathed. Her lips parted to release the sound as a sigh, and suddenly, there was nothing in the universe other than him, her, and the red-hot urge to claim her mouth. “You’re welcome, Xander.”
“Hey, you two. Hope we’re not interrupting?”
The female voice—not Tara’s, but almost as close by—whiplashed Xander back down to earth. “No,” he and Tara said simultaneously, both of them taking gargantuan steps away from each other.
By the time Xander turned toward Intelligence Detectives Isabella Walker and Matteo Garza, his nothing-to-see-here armor was firmly back in place. “Not at all. Ms. Kingston and I were just killing time, waiting for you guys to arrive.”
“Right.” Isabella’s smile told Xander she saw right through him (freaking detectives), so he went for old faithful.
“Hey, you look great, by the way.” He gestured to her rounded belly. “How far along are you now?”
Whether or not she was onto him, she took the bait. “Six months, and I look like I gulped down a basketball. But you’re a doll for lying.” Isabella took a second to run her hand lovingly over her baby bump before getting to the matter at hand. “And I’m still allowed to do victim interviews even if I have to take a break from actively chasing criminals, which is what Hollister is doing right now, the lucky brat”—she gave up a tart smile at the mention of her partner, Liam Hollister—“so I’m tagging along with Garza, here, in order to feel useful. Do you want to give us the rundown?”
Xander nodded and got down to business. “Aimee Pollard, goes by Amour, eighteen, assaulted in her home in North Point.” He rolled through the bullet, making sure to take pit stops at the head injury, no outward signs of sexual assault, and Amour’s phone call to Tara. “Dr. Riley’s with her now. No update yet.”
“Shit,” Garza said, dividing his dark gaze between Isabella and Tara. “You think Sansone’s behind this?”
“Who else would it be?” Tara asked. “You both worked that case. You know what she risked to get us that intel. And what he’s capable of. If he knows she’s the one who gave us what we needed to get him arrested, he wouldn’t hesitate to hurt her.”
Slowly, Isabella said, “We do have to look at every angle. Amour doesn’t exactly live in the safest of neighborhoods, and break-ins that end in assault aren’t unusual in North Point. This could just be a robbery gone wrong or a home invasion. That said”—she looked at Tara, who had already opened her mouth to argue—“I agree that the whole thing is pretty freaking suspicious. Something about this doesn’t quite pass the smell test. But we won’t know what until we can talk to Amour.”
“I’m not about to go back there and piss Tess off,” Garza said, and Xander silently agreed. The doctor was part of a larger group of first responders and medical staff who hung out at his sister Kennedy’s bar on the regular, and while Tess had always seemed nice enough outside of the hospital, the stories of how she ran her ED without an ounce of bullshit and even less apology were practically lore. Plus, she was married to a guy who used to jump out of helicopters. On purpose. Repeatedly.
“She knows we’re here,” Xander said quietly. “And she knows Amour is the victim of a crime. She’ll come find us as soon as she can.”
At that, a tart laugh sounded off from over Garza’s brawny shoulder, and they all turned to see Tess Riley standing there in her dark green scrubs and doctor’s coat.
“Give the rookie a gold star. And I’m glad the gang’s all here, because we need to talk.”
4
All the emotion Tara had managed to tamp down came rushing up in full force, taking the last shred of her decorum with it.
“Tell me she’s okay,” she said past her heart, which was lodged firmly in her throat and pounding like a jackhammer.
The woman—Dr. Riley, according to the name stitched on her white doctor’s coat—took a lightning-fast look at Tara before saying, “I’m going to assume you’re Tara?”
At Tara’s nod, Dr. Riley continued. “Amour said you’d probably be assertive.”
All the air left Tara’s lungs on a rush of relief. She’s not dead. Not like Lucas. “She said that?”
“Actually, her exact words were, ‘She’s probably going to lose her shit if you don’t go get her’, but I figured assertive works, too,” the doctor said over a smile. “For the record, assertive is my favorite quality, and yes, Amour is okay. She’s a pretty tough cookie.”
“What can you tell us about her injury?” Detective Garza asked, his dark eyes as serious as his expression.
Dr. Riley wasted no time ushering them past a set of double doors and farther into the ED for privacy. “She’s awake and stable, although she’s pretty woozy and obviously shaken. She didn’t say much about what happened, and I didn’t want to agitate her by pushing until I ruled out a skull fracture or more serious brain injury. All signs point to no on both of those right now, but I called in a neuro consult, just to be safe.” She directed the gentler words at Tara before putting some frost into her tone. “Whoever assaulted her knew what they were doing. Amour sustained blunt force trauma to the right temple resulting in a moderate concussion, along with some lesser-degree facial trauma to the nose and contusions to her neck and upper extremities.”
Tara’s gut bottomed out in dread. “He choked her before he hit her?”
“Son of a bitch,” Isabella bit out. “So, whoever did this was a lot stronger than she is?”
“And taller, too,” Dr. Riley agreed. “From the angle of the shot to the temple, I’d say your assailant is at least six inches taller than Amour, and that’s a minimum.”
“So, probably male,” Garza said.
“And left-handed,” Xander pointed out, and Isabella nodded.
“That’s likely, given that Amour’s worst injury is to her right temple. Any idea if he used a weapon for the shot to the head?”
Dr. Riley’s frown grew. “He definitely used something other than his fists. I can’t be a hundred percent sure what, but in my expert medical opinion…it looks like a pretty classic pistol-whip.”
Oh, God.
Tara must’ve spoken the gut-clenching words out loud, because Xander shot her one of those calm, cool, everything’s going to be okay gazes, just as he had before he’d thrown her for a loop with that rubber duck story. “But you said she’s okay now?”
“The neurology resident was with her when I left, but she’s stable. At this point, I’d feel more comfortable keeping her until morning, just to be on the safe side and make sure she keeps to the concussion protocol. It wouldn’t hurt for someone from psych to try to talk to her, too. Trauma victims don’t just have to heal from their physical injuries.”