No Cops!

Chapter 18

Jake had no idea why he had pulled Suze in his arms, but she stood there willingly enough.

His heart was thudding so loudly, he was surprised she didn't hear it and call 9-1-1.

His arms wrapped around her pink woolen sweater and he breathed in her strawberry and peaches scent.

He had lost it when The Jackal had spoken about her so casually. How could that low-life even talk about Suzy?

Had he known that it was The Jackal who had invaded her house, Jake would have locked her up in his apartment for a long time.

But, now The Jackal was behind the bars and he swore that no one knew Suzy's whereabouts, which was a big relief.

Didn't stop his heart from pounding and his hands from shaking though.

Police work was routine for him. He met many people from different walks of life. Rich, poor, crazy, sane, addicts and even a few stand-up citizens. He had never been blinded by rage and so close to violence before when any of them had been threatened.

But clearly, now Suzy was his Achilles heel. He would do anything to keep her safe.

He didn't know how long he stood with her in his arms. She finally stirred in his arms, probably thinking him a fool for his uncharacteristic display of emotion.

Maybe he had embarrassed her.

But, when she pulled away, her face was full of concern. A soft hand cupped his cheek and he leaned into the touch, fighting the urge to close his eyes.

Suzy was searching his face and he didn't have the strength to hide his feelings any more. She only had to look at his face and know that he was an idiot, too foolish to understand that Suzy wasn't interested in him slobbering all over her like a mongrel.

Suzy gulped and then said in a soft voice, "Tough day at work?"

"Um-hmm." He turned his face and lay a kiss on her palm.

Her face burst in rosy color, as if he had grabbed and kissed her. Not that he would mind.

She dropped her palm and took a step back. Jake couldn't hide the longing in his face.

She gulped and looked around. "Why don't you tell me over some coffee?"

#

"Tam?" Bert lifted his head up. Tam, who was slumped on a chair by his bed, snapped to attention.

"What is it?" She rushed to his side, her hand covering his forehead.

"No fever, thank God!" she whispered under her breath.

For many nights now, Bert had run a high fever. He only remembered the chills and the nightmares. He often saw his best friend Shane in these nightmares. Shane who had been mercilessly shot in the face by Joe Busconi, the leader of the Marauders.

Shane would sit up in the pool of his own blood. His face would magically sew itself together and he would ask, pointing at Joe, "Are you still working for this bastard?"

"No, no, I'm sorry Shane! I'm scared!" Bert would scream but then Joe would turn his gun to him and shoot him.

The pain would then flare up in his side, where The Jackal had sunk his knife and left him a deep scar as a lifelong gift.

He didn't know how many days, weeks or months he had been out, but Tam had always been at his side. She had soothed his forehead, changed his bandages and he even remembered her singing a sweet lullaby for him.

"Drink this." A glass of water appeared at his parched lips and he drank thirstily.

"Not too much." The glass was pulled away from his lips.