Page 37 of Sadie's Guarded Harbor

The extra weight of a sleeping Amelia in her arms didn’t help. How could such a small child weigh so much?

“Do you need help?” Tommy’s husky voice combined with the whipping wind and slid against the back of her neck.

She gritted her teeth and finally fit the key in the hole. “You didn’t need to walk me to my door. I’m fine.”

Tommy snorted. “I remember having this same conversation with you last night. Only the roles were reversed.”

She cast a grin over her shoulder then pushed open the door. She plunked her keys into the white ceramic dish on a table pressed against the wall. “Mission accomplished. Now to get this little one settled in her bed. Give me a minute.”

Tommy stood hunched with his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. The porch light washed over him. Hard linesdominated his face. Creases at the corners of his eyes spoke of more than concern over seeing her to her house. “Take your time.”

She tucked in her lips, debating her next move. She didn’t want him to take off as soon as Amelia was tucked in for the night. Not after what they’d just been through. “Why don’t you grab us a couple of beers from the fridge, and I’ll meet you in the living room?”

“Perfect.”

She hurried down the carpeted hall to Amelia’s room. She kept the lights off and didn’t bother to change Amelia into pajamas. Her heart shot to her throat as she stared down at her beautiful daughter. Her entire life was centered around making sure Amelia was safe and loved and happy. The idea that someone would ever hurt one hair on her head twisted her stomach in knots.

Clara Parson had lived Sadie’s worst nightmare tonight. Every ounce of her wanted to make sure Clara never had to experience the pain and terror she’d survived tonight, but she couldn’t make decisions for anyone but herself. Couldn’t force Clara to grab her children and run like hell from the man who hurt her.

Blowing out a shuddering breath, she pressed a kiss to Amelia’s forehead and shut her bedroom door as she made her way back out to the living room. Tonight had conjured up too many of her own fears, brought back too many memories she’d tried to bury.

That beer was calling her name.

Tommy sat on the far end of the sectional. He’d draped his jacket over the back of the couch. Mittens sat on his lap, begging for attention. Tommy ran a hand over the fat cat’s back. “What do you feed this thing? He’s huge.”

She settled beside him on the couch and grabbed the brown bottle he’d uncapped and placed on the coffee table. “He may or may not be a little spoiled.”

“So full-sized salmon for dinner then?” Tommy scratched the purring cat behind his ears. He lifted his beer and pointed the mouth of the bottle in her direction. “You did a hell of a good job tonight.”

His praise warmed the cold place in the pit of her stomach that hadn’t thawed since she’d gotten the call earlier from Clara. “I did what I had to. Thank God it was enough.” She clinked their bottles together then took a swig.

Tommy drank from the bottle then set it on the stand beside the couch. “Damn, I’ve never been in a situation like that—never had a kid look at me with terror-filled eyes.” He rubbed a palm over his face.

She took another drink and let the cold, bitter liquid coat her dry throat. Unlike Tommy, this hadn’t been her first experience dealing with a dangerous situation where kids were involved. Her mind traveled back to another time, another child, another life-and-death situation that had ended in tragedy.

He rested his forearms on his knees. “You were so calm, so in charge. I didn’t know what the hell to do until you showed up in the hallway. You’re one hell of a cop.”

Unshed tears burned her eyes at his compliment. She blinked, hoping they’d evaporate before he noticed them. “Thanks.”

He scooted closer. “Are you okay?”

She shook her head, hating that she couldn’t keep her emotions in check. “I’m all right.”

“Everything’s fine. Mitch will go to prison. Clara and the kids are safe.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to block out the memories that assaulted her. Trembling overtook her body.

Tommy took the bottle from her closed fist and strong arms wrapped around her. She tightened her muscles for a beat then melted against him. The tears came faster, harder. Dammit, she had to pull herself together.

A steady hand moved up and down her spine. She concentrated on her breathing, pulling air in slowly through her nose. Opening her eyes, she focused on the green material of his soft sweater. Her rapid heart rate slowed—the tremors stopped.

Embarrassment swept in and took the place of the anguish. Sniffing, she straightened and wiped at her eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break down.”

Concern shone from his eyes. He kept his large hand locked on her arm. “This isn’t about what happened tonight, is it?”

She picked up her beer and drained half of it. She shifted and tucked one foot under her. “Tonight wasn’t my first time to see a child so afraid. To fear for his life and hope I could be the person to wipe away all the terror and put him back safely in the arms of his mother.” She picked at the moist label on her bottle. Mittens hopped over to her lap and curled into a ball.

Tommy slid his hand down from her arm to rest on her knee. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want.”

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