kept recording the image of the officer’s own vehicle hitting him.
Even though he didn’t make a sound, Chad drew her attention. In the flickering glow from the screen, his face was eerily pale, his green eyes dark and haunted. Sweat beaded on his upper lip and his brow. She rose a few inches from her chair, compelled to go to him, to see if he was all right, but then he spoke.
“Officer Jackson’s injuries were surprisingly minor,” he said. “A broken leg and bruised ribs. He recovered quickly to return to work.”
Tessa settled back on to her chair, but remained on edge, unsettled by her response to Chad’s reaction to the tape. She didn’t understand it, either. Since Officer Jackson hadn’t been seriously injured, why had Chad tensed so much?
“And this next officer also survived,” he told them in advance of running the tape.
Yet the warning wasn’t quite enough to prepare them for what they saw. On the big screen an officer walked up to a vehicle, and before he approached the driver’s side, someone clad in a dark hoodie and baggy jeans jumped out the van’s back door and started shooting. Due to the camera angle, it appeared as though the bullets were coming straight out of the screen toward the viewers.
The class uttered gasps of horror—except for Amy who screamed. Tessa held her breath, horrified by the images she’d just seen.
“Officer Bowers’s vest and his quick thinking saved his life,” Chad assured them.
While these officers had survived, Tessa knew there were officers who hadn’t been as fortunate, based on the daily reports on the evening news. And she remembered those images, but in her mind, each of those fallen officers was Chad. She squeezed her eyes shut to ease the sting of tears.
When the lights flipped back on, silence hung heavy in the room—everyone was as stunned as she was. Then someone, maybe the kid now rethinking his college major, asked, “Why do you do it?”
“Because it’s our job,” Sergeant Terlecki answered, but all the officers nodded their agreement.
Tessa shivered at how matter-of-factly they faced the potential of danger every day.
“In the back of your binders is a release form and sign-up sheet for ride-alongs,” Lieutenant O’Donnell said. “Consider this footage when you make your decision for whether or not to participate. Then pick a few dates that’ll work for you. Our shifts are twelve hours long.”
“Twelve hours?” Jimmy gasped.
“You won’t have to stay for the whole twelve-hour tour,” the watch commander assured him. “The officer you’re assigned would be happy to bring you back early.”
“That’s no fun,” Bernie said, patting her nervous husband’s hand. “You have to stay for the whole shift so you don’t miss anything exciting.”
“It’s not always exciting,” O’Donnell warned her. “But this is a great opportunity for you to experience, firsthand, a day in the life of an officer.”
A day in Chad’s life. It was not all flirting girls. It was uncertainty and danger. That bothered Tessa—and it bothered her more that it bothered her. That he bothered her.
KENT SLAPPED Chad on the back as they filed out of the empty conference room just ahead of Paddy, who shut off the lights. “Way to go, man, on standing firm with Blondie.”
“What?”
“The video feed of your traffic stop with the hot blonde,” Kent explained as if Chad didn’t know exactly about what and whom his fellow officer spoke.
He shrugged. “Hey, you’ve been there.” Just not since he’d taken a bullet for the chief three years ago, earning his nickname and desk job because of his inoperable injury.
“And I’ve let a few go with a warning,” Kent admitted, “especially when they turn on the waterworks.”
Paddy clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Makes you wonder how Bullet holds the department’s arrest record, huh?”
“But Junior holds the citation record,” Kent reminded them. “He never lets anyone off with a warning.”
Luanne hadn’t listened to all his warnings; now she was dead. He’d failed her. He didn’t want to fail anyone else. That was why he’d included the footage of not just Tessa’s traffic stop but of Officer Jackson’s accident, too. That sound of metal crunching metal rang yet in his ears, reminding him again of Luanne’s accident. He tried to block it out as his stomach lurched.
Had Tessa understood that speeding could have killed a police officer? That if she didn’t slow down and focus on her driving instead of on her cell phone, she could have another accident, one in which more than a mailbox got hurt?
He cleared his throat and asked Paddy, “Did Ms. Howard turn in her sign-up sheet?”
Paddy shook his head. “I don’t think she’s interested in a ride-along.”
“She needs to do it,” Chad insisted. “The whole purpose of her being in the program is so she’ll stop speeding.” Or else he wouldn’t have suggested the CPA as an alternative for her ticket.
Paddy nodded. “Sure, I’ll tell her the ride-along is mandatory.”
“Thanks.”
“He’s just saying that because he wants to be the one to drive her around,” Kent teased.
“Hell, no!” he protested, not liking the thought of a twelve-hour shift with Tessa sitting beside him—too close, too damn beautiful and sexy.
His fellow officers laughed at his vehemence.
“C’mon,” Kent persisted as they waited for the elevator. “We saw your face on that tape when you were walking back to your car. You might have given her the ticket, but she got to you.”
And that was why he couldn’t be assigned to her. She would distract him from his job, which was all he wanted in his life now and all he’d ever allow himself to care about again.
“Yeah,” he agreed with his friends, “she got to me. She annoyed me.”
“She could annoy me anytime,” Kent remarked with an appreciative whistle.
Chad sucked in a quick breath at a stab in his ribs. It was as if his friend had shoved a knife in his back. He couldn’t be jealous. He wasn’t interested in Tessa Howard, but somehow he found himself reminding Kent of his reporter. “You have your own annoyance.”
The other man uttered a curse then a heavy sigh. “You guys going to the ’house?” he asked, referring to the Lighthouse Bar and Grille, which boasted the best burgers in Lakewood.
Chad shook his head. “I’m finishing up Reynolds’s shift in a couple of hours. He could only work a half tonight. He’s gotta get some sleep before he goes to his kid’s show-and-tell tomorrow.” Chad was used to filling in for the guys who had families, and he didn’t mind working the extra hours because they usually helped him forget that he didn’t have one.
“I’ll
