Her Man in Manhattan

TWENTY-FOUR



Miranda opened her eyes and groaned as she squinted at the bright light shining through a crack in the curtains. When she turned over to check the time on the alarm clock the handcuffs snagged her wrist.

‘Damn it, Tyler.’

The three gentle knocks on her bedroom door echoed inside her head as if they’d been made with a demolition ball. ‘Grace?’ she asked tentatively.

The door opened a crack. ‘Can I come in?’

‘Yes.’ Miranda fought embarrassment as the older woman crossed the room. ‘Tell me there’s a key in that envelope.’

‘With a note which said to bring this...’ she held out a bottle of aspirin ‘...and that you’d probably want a bucket of coffee...’

‘You have no idea.’ She took a deep breath while Grace negotiated the lock on the loop above her head. ‘You’re probably wondering what’s going on.’

‘I don’t need an explanation.’

Miranda held up her arm when it was freed from the bed. ‘You have a soft spot for him, don’t you?’

‘Well, he is handsome...’

‘Yes, he is.’

‘And you have been happier in the last few weeks...’

When the second loop opened she rubbed her wrist. ‘Yes, I was.’

Grace studied her face with knowing eyes. ‘I wouldn’t give up on him yet. A man doesn’t handcuff a woman to a bed to keep her safe if he doesn’t care.’ Setting the handcuffs on the bedside cabinet, she lowered her voice and smiled with a rare glimpse of mischievousness. ‘Not that there aren’t other things you could do with them...’

‘Grace.’ Miranda gasped. ‘I’m shocked.’

‘No, you’re not.’ She chuckled as she turned away. ‘I’ll have them bring breakfast to your room.’

‘Wait.’ Swinging her legs off the bed Miranda stood up to fold her in a grateful hug. ‘You know I love you, right? I don’t say it enough.’

Having been—what had he called it, treated to a hug-fest?—she wanted more hugs in her life. When Tyler was gone she would need them.

‘You don’t have to say it. You’re the daughter I never had.’ Grace leaned back and winked. ‘Now make me proud and go give that handsome devil hell for what he did to you.’

‘I will.’

The thought lifted her spirits a little and by the time she’d showered, had breakfast and was feeling more human she’d made a decision. There was no point dwelling over how little time they had left. If all they had was a few more weeks she was going to make the most of them. He did care—if she’d been thinking sensibly she’d have known that without him saying it. She had to accept that was enough, even if she struggled with it. But she didn’t want a marriage proposal or a drawer at his apartment or even to keep a toothbrush in his bathroom. All she wanted was to continue seeing him. Maybe she should tell him that?

If it didn’t feel like the biggest step she’d ever taken with the most massive gaping cavern for her to fall into if he didn’t feel the same way, she might consider it.

She checked her watch and frowned. Grace was late with the itinerary. It wasn’t like her. Lifting her things, she decided to meet her at her desk, the sight of someone she hadn’t expected making her footsteps falter when she got there. ‘Lewis. I didn’t think you were working today.’

‘I wasn’t.’

Miranda’s gaze shifted when Grace appeared from her father’s office, the grim expression on her face creating a sense of foreboding. ‘What’s going on?’

‘We don’t know much yet,’ she replied in a low voice. ‘But it’s all over the news. Apparently Detective Brannigan was on some kind of drugs raid last night and—’

‘No.’ The word parted her lips on a tortured whisper.

Grace reached out a hand and squeezed her arm. ‘He’s all right. Your father has asked me to find out what hospital he’s in so we can send a gift.’

‘What happened?’

It earned another squeeze—one that didn’t loosen—which suggested she knew Miranda would need the support.

‘He was shot.’

Grace had been right; she did need the support. Her body swayed, a wave of nausea rising in her throat. It was her worst nightmare. She couldn’t bear the thought of him lying bleeding somewhere while she’d been sleeping. But falling apart wasn’t going to help.

The only thing that would was seeing him.

Making a conscious effort to prick the bubble of shock surrounding her body, she summoned strength she didn’t know she possessed and took charge. ‘Lewis, bring the car to the door and use your connections in the department to find out what hospital he’s in. You’ll find out quicker than Grace.’

He nodded as he left.

‘I need you to reorganize today’s itinerary,’ she told Grace. ‘Most of the morning involves listening to speeches so they can do without me but there’s a scheduled visit to a veterans’ association before lunch. Give them a call and see if we can move it back a couple of hours. If we can’t extend my apologies and see if we can reschedule for later in the week—tell them I’m sick if you need to.’

‘I’ll see to it. What do you want me to tell your father if he asks where you are?’

‘Tell him the truth. If he has a problem he can discuss it with me later.’

‘I’ll call you with an update.’

Between several calls, a check on the internet for what little news there was and with Lewis driving with the lights flashing on the front grill of the SUV, they reached their destination in relatively good time.

Standing at a nurse’s station, she announced, ‘I’m looking for Detective Brannigan’s room. I was told it’s on the fifth floor.’

‘Are you family?’

‘He’s my bodyguard.’ She lifted her chin. ‘I’m Miranda Kravitz. My father is the mayor.’

Meaning if the woman got in her way she would have a fight on her hands...

‘Do you think you can get him to stay in bed?’

The question made her sag with relief. If they were having difficulty keeping him in bed it was a good sign. ‘Point me in the right direction and I’ll give it a try.’

‘Third door on the left,’ the woman replied. ‘Good luck. You’re going to need it.’

After pausing beside the open door to draw a deep breath of air into her lungs, Miranda crossed the threshold and took an inventory with her eyes. He was sitting on the end of the bed, frowning at a navy T-shirt as he tried to find a way of putting it on one-handed. Under normal circumstances her gaze would have snagged on his bare chest and marvelled at the sight of smooth skin stretched over taut muscle. Instead it was drawn to the squares of gauze taped to his upper arm and below his shoulder. If the second square had been a few inches lower the bullet would have punctured a lung.

She swallowed the jagged lump in her throat to ask, ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

His gaze lifted, a brief flash of surprise crossing his face before his voice rumbled, ‘It’s called escaping. You of all people should know that. How did you get here?’

‘Lewis brought me. I didn’t give him a choice.’ She crossed the room and set her bag down on an empty chair. ‘And you’re not going anywhere. What did the doctor say?’

‘That they dug out the bullet, replaced the blood I lost and stitched up the holes.’

‘And that you should rest, right?’

‘Look, I get what you’re doing but if you want to do something useful you can get me the hell out of here before my family comes back. If I have to endure another candlelit vigil around this bed I’m gonna jump out that window. My mother is this far away...’ he raised the hand holding the T-shirt to demonstrate the distance with a small gap between his thumb and finger ‘...from getting Father Mike to drop by and bless me.’

‘They’re worried about you,’ Miranda argued in their defence, ignoring his obvious frustration.

Tyler lowered his hand, frowning at the T-shirt again as he held it at arm’s length and tried to shake it straight. ‘If it wasn’t for one of Danny’s ESU buddies flapping his jaw none of them would have known.’

‘Well, it’s nice to know I wasn’t the only person you didn’t think merited a phone call.’

His hand dropped onto his lap. ‘Miranda—’

‘If the doctor says you’re supposed to stay in bed—’

‘I can do it at home.’ He looked up into her eyes. ‘I don’t need anyone’s approval to check out. They can put a note on the form to say it’s against medical advice if they’re worried about covering their asses.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘Why do I get the impression this isn’t your first visit to a hospital?’

‘Me and Father Mike go way back—broken leg when I was nine, first concussion when I was twelve...’

She arched a brow. ‘First concussion?’

‘I read a lot. When I was a kid it made it feel like I had something to prove when it came to sports. Get me out of here and you can examine every inch of me for scars.’

‘Promises, promises,’ she muttered before accepting the inevitable. There was no way he was staying put, but if she couldn’t stop him leaving she could make sure they took every possible precaution. ‘You’re not leaving until I’ve talked to your doctor and he’s prescribed pain medication.’

Tyler stood up. ‘I don’t need any.’

Again with the something to prove, but the lines of strain at the corners of his eyes and the rigid set of his jaw suggested otherwise. She folded her arms. ‘I have a vehicle and a driver who can take you straight home. Do you want help to escape or not?’

Surprisingly he took a moment to mull it over, his gaze searching the air before he lifted his hand. ‘You can start with helping me put on a T-shirt. I’ve been swearing at this thing for the last five minutes.’

Miranda noted the way he avoided looking at her and got the sense he wasn’t happy with her being there. It hurt that he wasn’t—especially when she’d been so desperate to see him. But she wasn’t there for totally selfish reasons—she wanted to be there for him. If he’d let her...

‘In order for me to do that you have to sit back down...’ She looked at the T-shirt as she took it from him, noticed something behind it and shook her head. ‘Let me guess. You gave up swearing at the button on your jeans five minutes ago.’

Determined she could touch him impassively while he was injured, she stepped forwards and folded the T-shirt over her forearm to free up her hands. But it wasn’t her reaction she should have worried about. The second her fingers folded around the waistband of his jeans—the backs of her fingers brushing against warm skin—he sucked in a sharp breath and tensed. Her gaze darted upwards and tangled with his, the mixture of heat and pain in his eyes making her grimace.

‘Sorry,’ she whispered.

‘Don’t be,’ he gritted back before the heat in his eyes intensified to drown out the pain.

Miranda slipped the button into the loop and removed her hands. ‘Sit.’ She lifted the T-shirt. ‘Bad arm first...’

The eye contact was broken to allow her to negotiate dressing him with as little discomfort as possible, but when the task was complete he forced her gaze back to his by capturing her wrist.

‘I’m fine,’ he said firmly.

‘No, you’re not.’ Her voice trembled a little on the words. ‘You got shot. With a gun.’

‘Technically speaking I got shot with bullets fired from a gun.’ A corner of his mouth tugged when she frowned. ‘Still here, aren’t I?’

A landslide of the emotions she’d been burying tumbled down on her, hammering her heart into a bruised ball of pulp. She’d known he would leave soon but if he’d died...

He was so much more than she was. While she’d slept off the alcohol she’d consumed in a bid to escape reality he’d been on the front line, protecting the city. He’d dedicated his life to making the world a safer place without seeking anything in return. How could a man like him ever love a woman like her? He deserved so much better.

Lifting her free hand, she ran trembling fingers over his short hair and down the back of his neck. He closed his eyes in response—what looked like agony crossing his face before he opened them. She wanted to take away his pain and soothe the tension from his body. She wanted to take care of him, listen to the things that troubled him and put his needs above her own. She wasn’t any good at cooking or cleaning or doing laundry—doubted she would ever fill the role of domestic goddess—but she was willing to try. If there was anything she could do to make his life easier she would put her heart and soul into it. She just wished she thought she could be happy that way.

Even if she hadn’t already planned to find something that could allow her to make a difference to people’s lives, getting to know him would have inspired her. The irony was they could probably have teamed up. One of the charities on her shortlist dealt with victim support...

‘You know this means I’m not your bodyguard any more.’

She stared at him. The thought hadn’t occurred to her.

As her hand lowered to her side he explained, ‘They’ll make me take time off. If I’m lucky I’ll get desk duty in a week but I won’t be back on tour until after the election.’

Miranda felt the time that had meant so much to her slipping through her fingers. She twisted her wrist free and took a step back, turning away to pack what few things he had into the open sports bag on the bed beside him. His family must have brought what they thought he needed. They had the right to do that. She probably shouldn’t even be there. Purposefully keeping her tone light, she told him, ‘You’ll heal quicker that way.’

‘And you’ll be busy with the campaign.’

‘I will.’ If he was trying to let her down easy there wasn’t any need. She’d known a day would come when he wouldn’t be there any more. She was just thankful he would be somewhere—could take comfort from that while spending the rest of her life trying to make him proud to say he’d known her. ‘It can get hectic in the last few weeks.’

‘When it’s over you’ll be free.’

‘I’m looking forward to it. I’ve made a lot of plans—things I want to do, places I want to see.’ Silently clearing her throat, she lifted her chin and informed him, ‘I’m going to check in with your doctor. Lewis should be up in a minute. Then we’ll take you home.’

She headed for the door.

‘Miranda, stop.’ The forceful edge to his rough voice froze her feet to the ground. ‘Don’t run away this time.’

Pinning a bright smile in place, she turned around to give the performance of a lifetime. ‘If I was running away I’d take my bag. It’s Gucci.’

Tyler frowned and angled his head a little to study her from the corner of his eye. ‘Are you still mad at me for the handcuffs?’

‘You did what you felt you had to do.’ She shrugged. ‘I’d probably have done the same thing in your shoes.’

He opened his mouth, sucked in a breath and hesitated. It wasn’t like him but in the blink of an eye he recovered, his voice laced with determination. ‘We need to talk.’

‘Now?’ she asked with as innocent an expression as she could muster. ‘I thought you wanted to leave?’

‘You rearranged your schedule to be here, right?’

‘Grace did.’

‘How much time did she get you?’

‘I’m visiting veterans after lunch.’

‘What about tonight?’

Since she wasn’t convinced prolonging the agony would make it feel any better Miranda lied. ‘I’m pretty solidly booked for the next few weeks. We could meet up for coffee after the election if you like. You have my number.’

‘Still trying to cut me loose, aren’t you?’

‘You’re not my bodyguard any more.’

‘So that’s it. There’s nothing you want to say to me.’

‘Of course there is.’ She sighed, struggling to keep up the pretence. ‘You’ve watched over me all this time, put up with a lot and I’ve enjoyed our time together. I can never begin to repay you for—’

Tyler shook his head. ‘I shouldn’t have left the keys with Grace. That was a mistake. Go find the damn doctor so I can blow this joint. But if you think we’re done here you can forget it.’ He pushed to his feet. ‘Just be thankful I’m not in any shape to toss you over my shoulder again.’

She blinked. ‘I don’t get why you’re angry.’

‘Well, when you figure it out let me know.’

When he turned and started an argument with the zipper on the sports bag, Miranda took a step forwards. ‘Tyler—’

He lifted the bag and marched past her. ‘I’m going to sign the paperwork.’

The silence in the car on the journey to his apartment was deafening. He left with a curt ‘thanks’ and not so much as a sideways glance at her. It was awful. She’d never felt worse—empty and alone and facing an endlessly long Tyler-less future. It was over. He was gone.

Miranda would never know how she kept her facade in place for the rest of the scheduled itinerary. But at the end of an interminably long day it took its toll.

She dropped onto the edge of her bed, deflating like a balloon losing air. When the tears came she didn’t stop them. There was nothing remotely dainty or feminine about it when the floodgates opened, either. When she lay down on the covers heaving sobs racked her body until her face was mottled and her eyes were red and swollen. Later, when she hauled herself upright and made it under a hot shower, she turned the water on to high and cried some more while its warmth did nothing to remove the chill from her body.

It was late when she was reduced to sniffling into her pillow. Staring into the darkness, she started to think things through. She thought about the first time he took her hand; how big a pain in the ass he’d been when he blocked her escape attempts; how he’d been the first person to be brutally honest with her; how the most dangerous man she’d ever met could make her feel safe and protected. Then she thought about the night in the alley, the shudder that ran through his body when he held her, how he resisted the kiss but wrestled control from her. From that point of view he’d always had the upper hand. When he kissed her nothing else mattered but kissing him back. At least it hadn’t until her heart got involved.

Then something happened. Somewhere in the middle of her sentimental journey to revisit each landmark in their relationship a spark of hope ignited, the flame flickering defiantly in the midst of her doubt she could ever be enough for him.

‘I want you to stay away from me,’ she’d lied.

‘You don’t want that any more than I do,’ he’d replied.

Her heart tripped and picked up speed.

Unless he was trying to push her away Tyler didn’t say things he didn’t mean. But what if he’d been saying more than she’d heard? What if she’d been so wrapped up in how she felt—for a change—she’d missed how he felt?

She hadn’t gone looking for it until she needed it to be there, but once she did...

‘I’m supposed to keep my distance,’ he’d said. But he couldn’t do that any more than she could.

Surely that meant something—what if he felt the same draw to her that she felt to him?

He’d said when she had questions, ‘You might want to make one of them why I kissed you the way I did...’

What if everything she’d felt in that kiss hadn’t come from her? She’d felt lost but he’d found her. She’d been hopeful but he’d lost hope. He’d said he was beyond saving. Did he really believe that—what if he thought she couldn’t love him the way he was? He’d told her if he had a choice things would be different. ‘Don’t forget that.’

Why had she forgotten that?

Even with her confidence battered by waves of fear and self-doubt the flame of hope continued to burn. The truth was she was more frightened of losing him than taking a leap of faith for the man she believed in more than she believed in herself. She’d thought he couldn’t love her but if one day he could...

‘When you figure it out let me know.’

Heart pounding rapidly, she jumped off the bed, grabbed the essentials and ran downstairs. Nothing on earth would stop her from going to him. She couldn’t spend the rest of her life wondering what might have happened if she’d taken a chance. If the freedom she’d been dreaming of for her entire adult life was all about choice, then she chose him.

All he had to do was choose her back.