Eden woke early Sunday morning to the sound of loud pounding on the door downstairs. She groaned into her pillow and rolled over onto her back, glancing sideways at her alarm clock. It wasn't even nine yet. She was sore and exhausted and had hoped to be able to sleep in to rest her muscles, but of course no one else would wake up to go open the door, so she got up, pulled on a hoddie, and walked downstairs on wobbly legs. She looked through the peephole and her stomach lurched.
Her eyebrows drew together and she took a step back from the door. She could go back upstairs and have someone else wake up to open the door and deal with him.
Another sharp rasp against the wooden door made her jump.
She thought of Lily waking up and being the one to answer the door; she could practically hear the jeers that would come out of Fisher's mouth if he saw Lily. With a scowl Eden ripped open the door and stepped outside, then slammed it behind herself. "What?" she snapped.
Detective Fisher grinned, his eyes raking over her body, lingering on her bare, long thighs. He stepped up onto the stair below her and licked his lips. "Nice to see you, too, sunshine. Can I have a word?"
She folded her arms over her chest defiantly and glared at Fisher, her jaw clenching along with her fists.
"You gonna talk here this time? Or do I have to take you back to the station again?"
She stood rooted to the spot, eyes narrowed and nose turned up; he smelled strongly of body odor and something spicy. It was not a pleasant mixture.
"Listen here, bitch, just because you've got yourself a psycho on a leash doesn't mean you're safe from the law. Or me," he growled. He stepped up the last stair, causing her to back herself against the closed door. His lip curled and he lifted his coarse hand and grazed it deliberately slow against her soft cheek. "Where's the masked man now?" he purred.
She fought the urge to knee him in the balls or spit in his face. But there was nothing she could do; he was a cop. She clamped her mouth shut and pinched her eyes closed, turning her head to the side so his mouth was nowhere near hers. Her skin was crawling and the sick feeling in her stomach that never seemed to truly disappear came bubbling up her throat.
He chuckled, his hand now moving down her silky neck. Eden didn't flinch; she merely sucked in a deep breath and waited for his next move. "Stop."
"And why would I want to do that?" His voice was low and condescending and right against her neck. "I've got you right where I want you." His hand dropped from her cheek and instead caressed up her outer thigh. "You can't fight me. You're helpless without your pet." His hand began to lift to the hem of her shorts.
"Stop," Eden whispered, teeth clenched tight, her eyes closed tight, every muscle tight and traitorous.
He sniggered, hand continuing its way up the back of her shorts. His body pressed heavily into hers. She couldn't move against him. Couldn't breathe.
Eden sank into the door, wishing it would open, that Justin, or even Drew, had woken up and the door would just fall open. Fisher's hand grabbed her ass and pressed himself more firmly to her. He opened his mouth but just then the sound of wheels on gravel filled both their ears, Fisher looked over his shoulder and cursed.
Eden's eyes open, and landed on the Toyota, her snarl turning soft. She hated herself for that.
Detective Yates slammed his door and sprinted up the drive, grabbed Fisher by the scruff of the neck and yanked his body away from Eden's, putting himself between the two. Fisher stumbled down a few steps and glared up at Yates.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Yates seethed, his hand pushed flat again the other man's chest as to keep a safe distance between Eden and him. He seemed much taller and scarier than he had the other times they'd met, his shoulders were squared and his body radiating anger. "Do I need to remind you that you got dropped from this case?"
"No," Fisher spit out as he knocked Yates's hand down.
"Then why," said Yates, his voice sharp and deadly, "are you here, harassing this young woman? Why are you touching her?"
Eden could see nothing beyond Yates's straight back, he kept her hidden from Fisher's view. She watched the muscles in Yates's back move through his shirt with an innocent sort of curiosity. She liked his closeness. Liked how safe she felt behind him. Liked the faint pressure of his back against her chest and the way he smelled of coffee, aftershave, and leather. She decided then and there: it was her favorite scent.
Fisher took a step up, his and Yates's faces level. Yates threw his arm back defensively to shield Eden, as though he thought his body wasn't enough of a barrier between the two. "You think you're so damn high and mighty, don't you?" Fisher asked. "You're hardly a detective, you're fresh from training and this case is going to eat you alive. You don't know how—"
"Then that's my problem!" Yates barked. "And so is Miss Summers, so I suggest if you want to keep breathing properly you walk away. Now."
Fisher held his hands up in mock surrender, a warped smile on his lips. "I'm going to get this case back when you fuck up, kid. And little Miss sunshine here will be my problem. And you want to know how I handle my problems?"
Yates took a step forward, making the other man step backwards and miss the next step. Fisher regained his balance, but not his composure. "You don't want to know how I get rid of my problems, Fisher," Yates said darkly.
Fisher turned and walked down the steps. "You better watch your back, kid," Fisher said over his shoulder.
Yates stood ridged, eyes narrowed in on the corrupt detective's retreating figure. He didn't turn until the crunch of tires on gravel faded. He turned; his usually kind eyes were stony as he looked down at the small brunette. "Why didn't you do something?" he asked, the anger in his voice making her jump.
"I—He's—he's a cop. What was I supposed to do? No one cares if a cop misbehaves; they're above the law. I'm not."
Yates's was positively livid, and yet somehow his words came out soft, "Are... Jesus, are you okay?"
She nodded hesitantly.
He heaved a sigh and sat on the steps. "You should go wake up your sister and brother."
"Why?" Eden asked, sitting down next to him. Their knees brushed together and a jolt seemed to run up Eden's spine.
He paused a moment, pushed his glasses up the bridge of his large, crooked nose and turned his head. "Your dad was attacked last night." He tried to gauge her reaction, but her face gave nothing away. No shock, no fear, no sign she'd even heard him.
"Do you know who attacked him?" she said finally. She knew the masked man had finally done as she'd asked, though she did a wonderful job of hiding it.
He nodded, "The man in the mask. Masked Maniac, whatever stupid name the media gave him." Again, he watched for a reaction, though the only one he got was lifted eyebrows and a quite oh. He stared at her quizzing. "Don't you want to know if your dad's okay?"
"Is he okay?" she said, though her voice had no hint of compassion in it.
Yates let out a short laugh. "No, not really. Did you know about the attack?"
"No."
He pressed his lips together and stared ahead at the driveway. "You are a very convincing liar, Miss Summers."
Eden smiled down at her bouncing, bruised knees. "Thank you, Detective. Though I think you're mistaking lack of empathy for my father with something else." She hit her knees together again. "I just don't care enough about him to give you the reaction you want."
But she did give him the reaction he wanted, she just didn't know it. "Your sister and brother may still want to know he's in the hospital."
Eden nodded and stood.
He looked over his shoulder and watched her disappear inside her house. He mentally kicked himself for glancing at her long, lean legs. Eden emerged four or five minutes later with a guy in his early twenty with bloodshot eyes and the same young girl he'd given a ride home.
The young girl's dreamy eyes were on the Detective. Eden was glaring at her reproachfully.
Yates stood, his shoulders hunching slightly once again, the protectiveness fading from his body.
"Is there a problem, Detective," Justin asked curtly.
Yates squared his shoulders. "Yes, actually. Last night your father was attacked in his bar, I'm assuming none of you got the call from the hospital?"
Lily's blue eyes widened and she let out a small gasp of horror. "What? Is he okay?"
"He's stable as of right now, but he lost a lot of blood last night."
Lily looked to her eldest siblings. Both looked unfazed. Lily turned back to Yates. "Is he—do you know who attacked him?"
Yates nodded. "The masked man."
Lily's eyes bulged and then turned to Eden with an accusing look. "Death Blade?"
Eden, Yates, and Justin all looked at Lily. Eden had never really thought of him as anything besides the masked man, but she didn't think Death Blade fit him, nor "The Masked Man," or "Masked Maniac." She wondered silently of clever names she could next address him by.
"What? That's what they're calling him."
"Who?" asked Justin, half laughing.
"This isn't funny," Lily snapped. "Dad's hurt!"
"He said Dad's fine," Justin said, pointing a finger at Yates. "So are we done here, Detective?"
Yates glanced between the three kids and nodded.
Justin turned and headed back inside, Lily stood rooted to the spot, staring up at Yates. "Who—did they find our dad this morning?"
He nodded. "At four this morning the police got a call from the attacker—"
"Death Blade," Lily supplied.
Yates scratched his nose awkwardly, and glanced at Eden. "Uh, yeah... Anyways—"
"So wait," Eden said, her hard gaze capturing his, "let me get this straight, the guy in the mask called after he attacked my dad? Why would he do that?"
Detective Yates tilted his head slightly. "Listen, Lily, do you mind if I have a word with your sister?"
Lily frowned but walked back inside, her tiny hands trembling.
Eden watched her go, mainly so she didn't have to look at Yates; she was sure she'd said something wrong and he'd picked up on it. "Look, Yates, I thin—"
"You can call me Parker, Eden."
"Okay... but look, I think I'm going to take my sister down there to see him. So... can we just continue this later?"
Yates opened his mouth, then closed it, scratching at the back of his neck awkwardly. "Would you want to go out to dinner with me sometime?"
Eden's eyes widened and a large grin formed on her full lips. "Oh. That'd be—" Her smile fell microscopically. She wanted to say yes, wanted her history with men to be improved, because Parker Yates would definitely be an improvement. He wasn't like the men who took interest in her, he was nice and gentle. But he was a detective on a case she was a secretly a part of, and fraternizing with him seemed more dangerous than working with the masked man. "Um. That doesn't seem like a good idea..."
"Oh. Alright." He frowned, glanced around for a moment, then buried his hands in his pockets looking out of place. "Alright," he said again, his voice colder. Cruel. Eden stiffened at the sound. She had heard that voice before with dozens of different demanding men. She knew what always followed that voice was never something good. She hadn't expected Yates's voice to ever take that edge. She swallowed and backed up a few steps.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"It's fine. It was an extremely unprofessional thing to ask." His voice didn't match the words coming out of his mouth, and Eden wondered why she had thought he was any different. She held her breath, waiting for hurtful words to follow. But they didn't, Yates turned his back on her and walked down the steps and down the drive, only glancing over his shoulder once.
Eden stood staring out at her driveway even after he'd left.