Page 19 of Red Hot Roaster

An old wooden baseball bat, scarred and mottled with age, laid on the table within her reach.

I pulled a fast breath in.Stand down for now, soldier. Stand down. She’s safe. No thanks to you, but she’s safe.

I started forward, crunching over glass in my work boots, to get to her. A patrolman stepped in front of me and stuck his arm out.

“Stop right there. This is a crime scene. Who are you?”

I was getting ready to swat his arm out of the way—not thinking too clearly at this point—when Rose looked up.

She said one word—“Rafe?”—in a tentative voice and swallowed a sob.

I shoved my way past the cop and stalked through the door to Rose. She must have seen something in my face. She grabbed my hand, winced and offered, “Rafe, it’s okay, no harm done. I’m okay. I got by with a few scrapes and bruises.”

Shit.Shewas trying to comfortme.

“What happened?” I managed to growl out—limiting the swear words to zero since I didn’t want to upset her any further. I walked to her side, angled close, squatted and got my right arm around her shoulders. I may have squeezed a bit.

Rose turned her face to me and drew in a shuddering breath. Her skin, always pale and creamy, was now stark white. Her green eyes filled with tears, and she looked up as if to keep them from falling.

“I was asleep when the alarm for the Chocolate Lab went off in the hall outside my bedroom. I fumbled for a moment, got my phone off my nightstand and called 911. I grabbed Dad’s bat and ran over here.”

She side-eyed me, still trying to keep the tears in check.

“I could hear yelling and laughing, and I came around the front. Some guys took off running down the street after I shouted. Broken glass was scattered across the sidewalk, so I was careful. I really was!”

I must have made some noise for her to feel the need to reassure me.

“I could hear sirens in the distance, so I figured it was okay. I’d forgotten my keys, so I cleared some of the glass pieces off with my bat and climbed over the sill. And that’s when I slipped and fell on the glass.”

I didn’t know where to begin. Other than planning how to strangle the person who set Rose up with an alarm that only sounded in her house. She needed the right sort of system that rang not only in her fucking house, but also on her phoneandat the caféandat a security company. Plus, signs posted everywhere blaring “these premises protected by….”

Maybe it was a matter of money, not being able to afford a real commercial system. But, still, someone had jerry-rigged this excuse of a system, and I wanted to find out who.

Time for that later, maybe when I’d cooled off.

I hugged Rose closer. She looked down at me again, and the tears finally spilled out of her eyes.

“I was so stupid not to wait,” she whispered.

Well, shit. That was it. She didnotget to beat up on herself when she was already hurting. And her place was a shattered mess. I hugged her again and shushed her.

I hadn’t been a platoon sergeant for nothing.

The medic, who’d overheard our exchange, finished and stood.

I raised my eyebrows at him and said, “Will any of these wounds require stitching?”

He shook his head.

“How should I take care of them, and do you have some extra supplies for me?”

He nodded, explained what to do, and left some bandages and antibiotic ointment. He also advised Rose to take some acetaminophen or ibuprofen when she got back home—not aspirin since that could cause more bleeding. Plus see her doctor for follow-up. And take it easy for a few days.

By this time, Rose was frowning, appearing ready to push back on the instructions and enforced rest. So I stood and thanked the guy. Even hurting, she realized he was just doing his job and thanked him too.

Another police officer—an older guy and luckily not the youngster who’d tried to prevent me from getting to Rose—stepped up next.

He must have already taken her statement since he smiled and said, “Looks like you’re feeling a little better, Ms. Connolly, now that your husband—or is he your boyfriend?—has arrived.”

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