Page 13 of Flint's Battle

“Afteryou’d all but confessed you’d taken out those men. Highly trained and decorated, huh?”

“Did you honestly expect me to let you take the fall? That’s not how partners work, sweetheart.”

“Oh, so we’re partners now?”

He closed the scant distance between them, lowering his face until it was even with hers. “Like I said. That’s your decision. But I have to admit, I like the sound of it.”

He eased back, grinning when she had to blink a few times to get herself to focus again because all she could think about was how close he’d been and that if she’d tiptoed up, she could have kissed him. “Now, let’s get those reports done so I can finally drive you home.”

Emery muttered a vague, “Sure,” still wondering if Flint’s lips were as soft as they looked. If he’d taste as good as he smelled because even after all they’d been through tonight, he still held that hint of citrus and cottonwood. As if it went soul deep.

They managed to fill out the necessary reports and hand them off to Milligan in record time, making it back to her cottage by two. Though, it felt as if it had taken longer. Days instead ofhours since they’d left the bar. And had it really all started with that brawl? After getting shot at, it seemed so trivial.

Though, the fact her cheek had started throbbing, again, emphasized how lucky she’d been she hadn’t gotten hurt worse. That Flint had taken the brunt of it. The graze not to mention the hit to his vest. What she suspected was one hell of a bruise beneath his shirt.

Flint stopped inside her doorway, kicking off his boots as he scanned the room. It looked innocent enough, but she knew he was categorizing every detail. Drawing conclusions about her from the shade of paint on the walls to the clean lines of her furniture. He glanced at the far bookcase, smiling as he made his way over, grabbing a framed photo then holding it up for her to see.

She grinned, tugging at the tie holding up her hair before shaking the mass free. “Me and my brothers.”

“I can see the resemblance. Who’s older?”

“They are.” She ambled over beside him after placing her purse on the counter. “Jack’s got six years on me. He’s on the right. And Clark’s on the left. He’s three years older.”

“Both fire fighters. And you’re a cop. So, who’s the black sheep? Because I know for a fact the rivalry’s real.”

“Definitely real.” She laughed. “And definitely me. My dad’s side of the family are all firemen.”

“And your mom?”

“Paramedic. I dare say she was a bit… disappointed I didn’t choose something to do with medicine or at least follow along with the family legacy.”

“What made you want to go against the grain and become a detective?”

She shrugged, fiddling with one of the other photos on the bookcase. “I usually tell people it’s because of all those police shows I watched as a kid.”

“But that’s the easy, practiced answer, right?”

“Basically.”

“Is the real reason a secret?”

“Not a secret, just… not something I talk about.”

He nodded. “Off limits. Understood.”

“No, it’s not…” She sighed. “I was in a car accident when I was sixteen. A friend’s older brother was driving us home. He lost control and we went off the road and down an embankment. It was… messy. We were trapped. But I guess this patrol officer must have witnessed it or saw the path we took because he showed up at the bottom of that cliff while I was still trying to figure out where I was. And he stayed. For hours until the rescue team was able to free us. I don’t remember a lot of it, but I remember him talking to me. Telling me I was going to be okay. That I just needed to hold on a bit longer. How my dad and Jack were coming to get me out.”

She pursed her lips together. “He didn’t have to stay. The car was balanced on this precipice, and the cliff kept breaking away. But…”

Flint inched closer, tucking some of her hair behind her ear. “How badly were you hurt?”

“The usual stuff, and I shattered my shoulder blade. Still have the plate and screws holding it together.”

“Your right side.”

She snorted. “That obvious?”

“Hardly noticeable, but I’ve been paying attention. It’s a bit stiffer than your left. Guess it’s a good thing you’re a southpaw.”

---