Down on Her Knees

CHAPTER Ten


“Where do you think you’re going?”

She’d been rehashing the night with Rafe over in her head for the thousandth time when she heard it. The whining, nasally voice sent a wave of disgust through her, and she paused on her way to the elevator, fixing a tight smile to her lips.

“I’m going home, Barry. Like people do when their shifts are over.”

Her two fellow nurses, Rhonda and Shelby, suddenly got really busy—looking uncomfortable, chattering softly to each other, and pushing papers around at the main desk a few feet away.

Barry glared, his watery gaze locked on hers. Courtney shifted the stack of patient files to her other arm. She’d planned to take them down to Records on her way out, but a sinking dread settled over her at the cold gleam in her supervisor’s gaze.

She’d seen it before. Several times, actually, since he’d started that spring. He actively enjoyed ruining people’s days. He took joy in the misery of others. He treated employees who were under his pay grade like they were garbage. In a word, he was a big, fat a*shole, with a capital A, and he got off on abusing his relative power.

“Chyeah, about that. Look, I wish I could spare you, but it looks like we’re going to need you to stick around for a double shift again tonight.” The faux regret pinched his thin lips, but didn’t make it to his beady ice-blue eyes.

Exhaustion settled over her like a water-saturated blanket. Weeks of screwy sleep schedules due to last-minute extra shifts were taking a serious toll on her, and the thought of spending another eight hours at work was enough to make her throat ache with frustration.

“Look, Barry, I haven’t been getting a lot of sleep and I—”

His thick brows came together in a thunderous frown even as his weak chin wobbled with indignation. “If your evening activities are too rigorous for you to be in tip-top shape to do your job, then maybe you need to prioritize better, Ms. DeLollis. Now either you can take those files down and come back on up or you can run the risk of me finding another nurse who is a little more dedicated than you are to fill your position.”

Rhonda and Shelby had done away with the pretense and had gone silent as they watched the scene before them, sympathy written all over their faces. Barry had delivered a pretty low blow, but maybe he was partly right.

Granted, she hadn’t been scheduled to work the day after her night at the hotel with Rafe, but even now two days later, she was a little tired. Guilt nipped her hard and she was about to apologize when something stopped her.

Who the hell did this guy think he was, treating her that way? He might be her supervisor, but that didn’t give him the right to talk to her like she was a piece of crap on his shoe.

She straightened and returned Barry’s glare with a vengeance. “What I do with my time off is none of your concern, and the insinuation that I would ever come to work in a condition that could be detrimental to my patients infuriates me.”

She strode to the long metal desk and set the folders she’d been holding onto it with a snap before whipping around to face him again.

“My contract is for five shifts a week. When there is an emergency and they need extra hands on deck, I’m never anything but accommodating. But if you think you’re going to treat me the way you do and then try to shame me into taking a back-to-back shift so I can do a bunch of busywork that could be done any time, then you’re sadly mistaken.”

His eyes practically rolled to the back of his head as he advanced closer. Close enough that she put a hand up in warning. He stopped short, but the rage pouring off him was palpable. “I’ll be talking to Leslie about this.”

Courtney admired and respected their head nurse, and hated the idea of their relationship being tainted by this man, but she ignored the tiny voice in her head that told her to apologize and instead met Barry head-on.

“You certainly will, because I’m going to file a complaint against you, which I should’ve done months ago. Part of your job, besides respecting people’s boundaries and personal space”—she sent a pointed glance at the few inches between them—“and keeping morale up, is making sure hospital funds are being used wisely. Imagine what the bosses would say if they realized that half the time you make us stay late and work overtime it’s purely for your own sadistic enjoyment and not because we actually need to be here?”

One of the nurses behind her whispered “Damn straight” under her breath, but Courtney was focused on Barry, who had gone from furious to sweating and nervous in a matter of seconds. He wet his lips and stepped back. “Look, I did need some help with a project for tonight, but no big deal. We’ll just let this go and—”

“We won’t let it go, because if it’s not me, it will be someone else and no one should have to put up with this.” She stepped away now, feeling better by the second. Finally standing up to him felt amazing, and she was almost giddy with the sense of freedom. “Make sure those files get to Records before midnight. My shift is officially over.”

She made her best effort not to flounce, keeping her head high but her steps slow and measured. No point in making it more of scene than it needed to be. So obviously, that meant leaping up and clicking her heels together like the leprechaun from the Lucky Charms commercial was probably out, but damn, did she feel like it.

Once the elevator doors closed behind her, though, she did a quick, impromptu jig. She’d effectively shut down Brutal Barry and, once she filed her complaint, hopefully it would be forever.


By the time she got home, the euphoria had begun to fade, but not the newfound confidence. She’d finally done it. Stood up for herself with her boss and the world hadn’t ended or anything. In fact, she’d never felt better.

She made her way into the kitchen and tossed her purse and keys onto the table. Leafing through her mail, she strolled into the living room and stopped in her tracks. Something felt off. A chill ran through her and she glanced around the room, gaze darting left and right. Seemed all right; everything was in its place.

She felt it before she saw it. A breeze tickling her nape. She spun around to see the dining room curtain fluttering gently against the windowsill. She never left the house with the windows open. Never ever.

“Rafe?” she called, praying she’d hear his silky baritone in response, while simultaneously plotting his death for scaring the shit out of her. But there was no answer to her call.

“Hello?” She walked slowly toward the window, envelopes falling from her icy hands to the hardwood floor when she saw the shards of glass and half a shoe print. Jamming a hand into the pocket of her scrubs, she drew out her cell phone and dialed. Please answer, please answer.

“Davenport,” a low voice barked.

“Rafe? It’s Courtney. Were you…here earlier, by any chance?” She already knew the answer, he had a key, of course he hadn’t come in through the window, but the question came on autopilot.

“Was I where?” he asked, his tone going from all-business detective mode to perplexed. Like he had no clue what she was talking about, as she’d expected.

Not good.

“M-my house?” she whispered, moving quickly and quietly on shaking legs to the kitchen door.

“No. What’s going on? Why are you whispering?” Concern colored his tone and he’d gone back to detective-mode barking.

She strained to hear any sounds from upstairs as she skulked toward the butcher’s block and slid a knife from its sheath. “My dining room window is broken and there is a muddy shoe print on the floor. Someone was in my house.”

“Listen to me carefully, Courtney. Go to the nearest exit and get to a neighbor’s house, immediately.”

She nodded, forgetting he couldn’t see her, and continued her path past the pantry and to the back door. Juggling the phone in one hand and the knife in the other, she inched the door open as quietly as possible and stepped through.

“Damn it, are you there?”

“Yes,” she hissed. “Yes, I just got out of the house and am going to Anita and Drew’s across the street.”

“I’m getting in my car now. I’ll be there in eight minutes or less.”

She didn’t bother closing up behind her, the need to sprint too strong to resist. “Okay. I’m already crossing the street, and there’s no one coming after me, so that’s good,” she panted, panic making good breath control impossible.

“Stay on the phone with me until you get there and confirm someone is home.”

She could hear his siren over the receiver and just that and the knowledge he was coming calmed her some. Churning legs ate up the short distance and she arrived on Anita’s doorstep less than a minute later. She knocked frantically, still checking behind her obsessively. It seemed unlikely that a burglar would run her down, but at that point, nothing seemed impossible.

“Hey, neighbor, wha—” Anita’s smiling face crumpled as she took in the sight before her. Brown gaze locked on to the knife in Courtney’s hand and she took a faltering step back. “Jesus, what’s going on?”

“Someone broke into my house,” Courtney blurted, handing the knife over, hilt first. “The police are coming and I need somewhere to wait.”

“Of course, of course, come in.” Anita tugged her into the foyer and called up the stairs to her husband. “Drew, come down here.”

“You’re good?” Rafe’s clipped voice sounded over the line and Courtney nodded inanely.

“Yes. They’re here. It’s the blue house on the corner.”

He disconnected without another word and Courtney slipped her phone back into her pocket. Her concerned neighbors huddled around her, offering tea and kind words, but she couldn’t stop shaking. She wouldn’t feel better until Rafe came. Once he got there, everything would be all right.

And that realization? Was scarier than a robber any day.

…

“Thank you so much again, Mr. and Mrs. Brenton. You’ve been very helpful,” Rafe said and then closed the door behind him. Courtney was tucked under his arm and although he knew she was all right to walk on her own two feet, he couldn’t bring himself to let her go yet.

“You okay?” he asked for what had to be the tenth time in as many minutes. She was probably sick of hearing it, but until the icy fear wedged in his chest started to thaw some, he was going to keep asking.

To her credit, she answered him like it was the first time. “Yeah, I’m good. Just shook up some. I’ll be fine.”

He nodded grimly, looking both ways as he led her across the street back toward her house. She’d be fine all right, but him? That was another story. He’d done a sweep of her house and found it empty, but someone had definitely been there. The jewelry box on her dresser had been cleaned out and her mattress had been overturned. The burglar had ignored bigger stuff like the flat-screen TV in favor of trying for easy-to-carry items and cash. Luckily, Courtney wasn’t the money-under-the-mattress type, but she was out a set of diamond earrings her parents had given her, a set of gold bangle bracelets, and a brand-new laptop.

When he thought of how much worse it could have been, his guts cramped.

“I can’t breathe,” she mumbled, and he realized he was holding her so tight, her face was smashed against his underarm.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Thanks for getting here so fast. I probably should’ve called 911 but…”

He didn’t care about the why, he was glad she hadn’t. He’d been able to assemble the crew he wanted to come check for fingerprints and see if they could get anything on the shoe print. The techs had left once they got what they needed, but it wasn’t looking good. He still had to talk to two more of the neighbors, but so far, no prints other than the shoe and no one had seen or heard anything. There had been a rash of robberies a few blocks away and he had a bad feeling this was the same guy, but they had little to go on, and since they were committed when no one was home, these types of cases often dropped to the bottom of the pile.

That was good and bad. Good, because this burglar didn’t want violence—he wanted to get in, get what he needed, and get out. Bad, because it might never get solved and that meant that a man had broken into Courtney’s home, invaded her privacy, scared the shit of out of her, and made her feel insecure. And that? That made him want to kill the motherf*cker.

“You’re doing it again.” Her voice was muffled and he released her, taking her elbow instead.

“I’m not going to faint or anything, you know. I’m sorry I scared you. I know I overreacted but—”

“You reacted exactly the way you should have.” He didn’t release her arm, using it to lead her up her front stairs as he fished around for the key she’d left him. “You called the police, me, and you vacated the premises. Textbook. I’m really proud of you.”

She cleared her throat. “Um, thanks. You know, the back door’s not locked. I left it open when I ran out.”

“I locked it,” he said simply. Dusk had fallen and the house was nearly dark when he swung the door open. Courtney froze in the entranceway.

“C-can you turn the light on?” she whispered.

He flicked on the switch behind him and she let out a long sigh of relief. Maybe it was a good thing they hadn’t gotten any prints. If he’d been able to ID the perp, he didn’t know if he could’ve stopped himself from making sure the bastard wound up as afraid of the dark as Courtney was right now.

Her gaze flickered immediately to the window and she closed her eyes for a second, taking a steadying breath. “Thanks for getting rid of the glass and boarding it up. I don’t think I could’ve slept.”

“Not a problem. Why don’t you have a seat? I can make you some tea or something.”

“I’d rather have a beer, I think,” she admitted with a wan smile. Her cheeks were still chalk white, and something to take the edge off didn’t seem like a bad idea.

“Sure, I’ll get it. Go sit.”

She seemed like she wanted to argue, but did as he asked, padding across the oak floor to the large sectional couch that took up the center of the living room.

He headed into the kitchen and pawed around until he found a couple beers, a bottle opener, and one glass. When he returned to the living room, he found Courtney huddled into the couch cushions with a tattered pink blanket over her.

“You cold?” He eyed her hard, wondering if he’d missed signs of shock, and if she wasn’t as fine as she claimed to be, but she shook her head and faced him with a clear gaze.

“No. This is the blanket I had when I was a kid. Makes me feel…comfy.”


And safe, he added mentally.

He sat down next to her, opened her beer, and poured it into the glass.

She murmured her thanks and accepted the drink before twisting to face him head-on. “It doesn’t seem fair, does it? That someone thinks they have the right to come into your home and take things that don’t belong to them?”

“It’s not fair,” he agreed and then popped the cap off his own beer and took a swig. He must have looked as grim and angry as he felt, because she laid a hand on his arm.

“I’m sorry to keep harping on it. This was nothing in the scheme of things. No one got hurt, no one…anyway, I know you’ve seen and dealt with so much worse…”

He could hear the pity in her voice as she struggled with the words to say. Which meant she knew about Monica. He’d figured it would come up eventually and either Cat would tell her or Galen would mention it. He racked his brain for some pithy brush-off, but shocked himself.

“It was the worst day of my life.”

She squeezed his biceps reassuringly, and the words started to flow, out of control.

“I told her we should go out. She had a big test to study for and I didn’t want her to spend the whole afternoon cooking, but she wouldn’t have it. She was set on making me crab legs.” He drained half the beer bottle and set it down. “I don’t even like f*cking crab legs.”

He scrubbed a hand over his eyes and tried to picture her face. She’d been the exact opposite of Courtney. Black hair, dark eyes, leaner, not so curvy. The details were fuzzy now. He knew there’d been a dimple. Just one, but he couldn’t remember on which side anymore. And freckles, but it was a strain to recall the pattern of them. He didn’t think of her every day anymore, which was part blessing and part curse, because on days he remembered, the guilt over days he’d forgotten was almost crippling.

“It changed my life,” he admitted. “From my career path to the way I thought about the world. Looking back, I can’t say that those changes were for the better. I am what I am now, but you don’t have to let this one event change you.” She started to protest and he held up a hand. “I know it’s not the same thing, but it was a violation. You can either choose to believe that this was one bad person at one bad time, give yourself a day or two to be pissed off, sad, and scared, and move on, or you can let it color your view of the world entirely, and fester.”

She toyed with the ragged edges of her blanket as she contemplated his words. “Like I did with Wes,” she murmured. Not angrily, which was good. “That’s exactly what I did. I let him shake my confidence and keep me from trying to find another, healthier relationship. It’s been like he’s still controlling me and we’re not even together anymore.”

She settled more deeply into the cushion, suddenly looking exhausted. He patted her legs, urging her to put them on his lap. “That’s enough talk for now. You’ve had a hell of an evening. Why don’t you rest for a few minutes? I’ll hang here and finish my beer, watch some TV until you want to go to bed.”

She hesitated and then nodded, setting her beer on the coffee table. “I appreciate it. I’m just not ready to be alone yet.” He covered her calf with his hand and rubbed in slow, soothing circles. Her eyes drifted closed and a few minutes later, she was snoring softly.

Instead of watching TV, he watched her sleep for a while, and thought of ways he could help her feel more secure. Maybe he’d suggest she get a dog. Odds were almost zero that the burglar would come back and she lived in a relatively low-crime area, but a dog would give her a sense of security as well as provide some much-needed comfort for those inevitable nights that she felt alone and scared.

Or you could help her with that.

No, he couldn’t. They had two scenes left together, and tonight had served as a terrible reminder of exactly why he’d avoided getting close to another woman since Monica. He closed his eyes and relived the moments on the phone with Courtney, when she’d told him someone had broken in. He could almost picture her there, with the knife they’d left at the Brentons’, tiptoeing toward the door. Jesus Christ, what if someone had still been in the house? What if that person had used that knife against her?

He sucked down the rest of the beer to wash the bitter taste of fear from his mouth before looking down at her again. Her face was so peaceful and trusting in sleep, his heart gave a squeeze.

Yeah, two more scenes, then it was time to walk away. Too bad it felt like he’d be leaving a little piece of himself behind.