Page 36 of Shea's Hero

“Well,” Shea replies, “I know being a police officer is still a dangerous job. But I know you’re really good at it. Probably the best in the whole department. With what you used to do… how could you not be?”

A burst of pride brings warmth to my chest. “I’m pretty good.”

“Oll. I saw you practicing, remember? All the target shooting? Your crazy driving skills? That martial art thing that made you look like you were in an action movie?”

My lips twitch. “Krav Maga?”

“Yes. That.” Shea grins. “So I’m not guessing how good you are. I know.”

Emotion thickens my throat.

She was always so supportive. So convinced that I could do whatever I set my mind to.

Not was.Is.

I can’t ruin this.

In this moment, with the woman I never stopped loving sitting right beside me, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt I’ll do anything to make this work.

“This really is the best Italian food I’ve ever had.”

Setting her fork on her empty dessert plate, Shea looks at it with a mournful expression. “That tiramisu was incredible. I’m actually sad it’s gone.”

“We can order another one,” I offer. “Just say the word.”

“No, that’s okay.” She smiles, her face lit with the glow from the candles at the center of the table. Bits of gold and amber catch in her eyes, turning them to a star-touched night sky. “I’mstuffed. But I’ll definitely be thinking about that tiramisu for a while.”

“We can come any time you want. In fact, how about this weekend? I work the three to eleven on Saturday, but we could come Sunday. Or Monday.”

Too quickly, she replies, “Oh, no, Oll. That’s okay.”

Oh.

Disappointment sweeps through me.

Does she not like it here? Is the night not going as well as I thought? Or am I rushing things, pushing for another date before she’s ready?

“Okay.” I work to keep my tone light. “That’s fine. We don’t have to come here again.”

Shea leans across the table and grabs my hand. “That’s not what I meant.” She glances around the small dining room, a simple but elegant space filled with softly twinkling lights, gleaming walnut tables, and hand-painted landscapes from Italy decorating the walls. “I love it here.”

“Then why?—”

“It’s just… a lot. Reserving the whole room just for us, plus all the food… I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this every time we go out.”

Turning Shea’s hand over, I rub my thumb across her palm. “I don’t feel like Ihaveto do anything. I brought you here because I know you like Italian food. As for reserving the room, that’s something I wanted to do.”

“Because it’s safer.”

“Yes. And this way, I can enjoy my time with you instead of watching everyone else in the room.”

It’s not something I wanted to bring up tonight, but it was kind of hard to avoid when the owner of the restaurant first escorted us into the private room. So I quickly explained how itwould be safer eating on our own, and as a bonus, we’d get to talk without any distractions.

Am I still on guard? Absolutely. With the two men in the van still unidentified and on the loose, Shea’s still at risk. We’re working hard to find them—sorting through hours of security footage from the area, checking satellite footage, and trying to run facial recognition on the small portions of the two men’s faces that we can see.

Unfortunately, between the police and Blade and Arrow, we’re not making progress nearly as fast as I’d hoped.

With things as they are, the safest bet would be to stay at home. But what kind of date would that be? Making Shea cook for me? Bringing over pizza? Attempting to prepare something edible on my own? No thanks. Instead, I did a little prep work to make sure Guiseppe’s is safe.

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