Drawing The Line, page 1
Acknowledgments
All books are a labor of love, but some books need more of an epidural than others. Drawing The Line falls under that heading, and it simply would not exist without the following people.
To my incredibly savvy agent, Maureen Walters, and her extremely patient assistant, Elizabeth Radin, for putting up with all my emails. Your enthusiasm for my writing is the fuel that moves me. To my critique group, Alyssa Alexander, Tracy Brogan, Robin Covington, Avery Flynn and Jennifer McQuiston, without whom this book would be a huge, hot mess (and I would be, too!) Thank you for your encouragement, your crazy title suggestions, and also, for keeping me in line. To fellow foodie author Amanda Usen, for the fastest beta read on the planet. I owe you cookies. Lots of them.
To nurse Dana Carroll, who is always so happy to offer medical advice, and to officer Scott Williams, who answered my endless questions about police procedure, thank you. All of the knowledge belongs to you two, while all mistakes are purely my own. Much love to Wally, Felicia and Walter Ambrose, not just for your knowledge of martial arts and self-defense, but for trusting it to me. My Saturday mornings are yours forever! And to Robin Gansle, of Robin Gansle Photography, for putting together yet another incredible book cover. You’re magic, girl!
To my three daughters, who think it is cool that “mommy works in her pajamas”, I love you more than words allow. And to my husband, who makes my life a living embodiment of Happily Ever After, every single day. Without you guys, none of this exists.
And lastly, to my readers, who clamored for Jason to have a story from the minute he appeared on the page in Love On The Line. I hope I did him justice. He’s all yours!
CHAPTER ONE
Having spent half her life in one restaurant or another, Serenity Gallagher had seen just about everything a professional kitchen had to offer.
Except for a body on the floor. That was definitely new.
“Oh my God! Colin!” Serenity’s heart smacked a sickening rhythm against her ribs at the sight of her day cook sprawled over the dark gray kitchen tiles. Fluorescent light glared over the prep space, the brightness a harsh contrast to the pre-dawn shadows tucked over the rest of the diner. A shock of crimson bloomed in an angry stain over the chest and shoulder of Colin’s T-shirt, his normally olive complexion shockingly pale.
Serenity’s keys hit the floor with a sharp metallic jangle. She jammed a shaking hand into her coat pocket, grabbing wildly for her cell phone, even as she knelt to press her other hand against his body.
He didn’t move.
“Hang on! I’m calling for help.” No, no, no, this couldn’t be happening. She’d known Colin for four years. They were friends. She’d just gone to his wedding six months ago, dammit! He couldn’t be hurt. Oh God, he couldn’t be dead.
Not if she had anything to say about it.
Serenity forced a breath down her panic-knotted throat as she dialed 911 and punched the speakerphone icon on the screen. Pain bolted up her legs as she dropped to her knees next to Colin’s laid-out form, and it steeled her focus. She let go of her cell phone, and it clacked face-up against the floor just in time for the operator’s tin-can voice to echo over the line.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“I need an ambulance at Mac’s Diner, twenty-five Fourth Street. Someone attacked my cook. He’s not moving, and he’s…” She swallowed back on the gag reflex kicking the back of her throat as she snatched the kitchen towel from Colin’s apron and pressed it over the center of the bloodstain. “I think he’s been stabbed.” Despite the waver in her voice, Serenity placed her free hand on Colin’s cheek.
Relief shot through her so hard her vision slipped. Warm. His face was warm under her palm.
“Oh! Oh, thank God. Okay, he’s unconscious, but—”
“Ma’am? Has there been a break-in? Do you see anything else unusual?” The operator’s voice cut through Serenity’s concentration, stilling her over Colin’s body as she bent to check for a pulse. She’d used her keys to come in through the glass double doors in the front, just like she did every morning, and nothing had been out of the ordinary.
She did a quick scan of the kitchen— the dishwashing station, the narrow strip of prep space that made up the line, the corridor leading past the walk-in to her office— but it looked as clean and undisturbed as it had when she’d left last night.
Except…
The coffeepot by the hot window was dark and empty, and Colin didn’t do anything in the morning without brewing that sucker to the brim.
“Not really. Maybe. I don’t…” Her voice shorted out in her throat as she caught sight of the door leading from the kitchen to the alley behind the diner, the one Colin used to let himself in every morning.
It stood halfway open, the stainless steel doorknob hanging from the housing at an unnatural angle that sent a sharp corkscrew of fear through her chest.
“The back door, leading to the alley. It’s broken.” She looked around again, head whipping over each shoulder.
The kitchen was perfectly still. Undisturbed.
“Does the victim have a pulse?”
Serenity slipped her fingers into the crook under Colin’s jawline, fresh relief replacing the dread prickling up her backbone. “Yes.” His pulse beat in a thready rhythm against her fingertips, and she dragged her knees over the unforgiving tiles to return to his side, putting pressure on the wound. “But it’s not very strong.”
“Is he breathing?”
Serenity crouched low, hovering her cheek so close to Colin’s face that his stubble rasped her skin. “Yes, he’s breathing.” Thank you, sweet Jesus. Colin was the nicest guy on the planet. Who would do something like this to him?
The operator’s words grew stern over the line. “EMS and police are on their way. I have to advise you to leave the premises until they arrive to secure the scene.”
She blinked at the phone, still lying belly-up on the tiles next to her. “But I can’t do that. My friend needs help.” Something warm and sticky slid between her fingers, and oh God, Colin was bleeding through the kitchen towel. No way could she just leave him here, and anyway, other than the slamming of her heartbeat in her ears and the operator’s voice on the line, the kitchen was silent.
“Ma’am, please be advised, you may be in danger. Exit the building and lock yourself in your vehicle until police and EMS arrive,” the operator insisted, and Serenity darted a quick glance at the open back door again. Whoever had done this had likely fled as soon as she’d come in through the front, maybe even before that.
She couldn’t just leave her friend.
“There’s no sign of anyone still here. If the police are on their way—”
The quickly-moving thud of boots over tile reached her ears from behind, instantly killing the rest of her words. Fear canceled out the flood of adrenaline in Serenity’s veins, the cold pinpricks on the back of her neck turning to sub-arctic spikes as she tried to scramble to her feet. Whirling, she caught a brief flash of something shiny, the edge of a blood-streaked shirt, and a baseball cap pulled down low over the hard-set, malicious slant of a man’s jawline. He jerked his head up, his glittering stare piercing all the way through her chest as he narrowed it on her.
He swung a black backpack over his shoulder, the intricate tattoo on his forearm flexing over his muscles as he advanced in a rush. Serenity balled her bloodstained hands into fists in a last-ditch effort to protect herself, gathering her breath from low in her belly.
But before she could unleash a scream, the man smashed into her with startling force. She sailed backward, clawing desperately for balance, catching nothing but thin air.
Then a tooth-rattling pain reverberated from the back of her head like a shockwave, and darkness invaded, swallowing her whole.
#
Blinding light sliced through the inky black backdrop of Serenity’s line of vision, and she instinctively squeezed her eyes shut to ward off the intrusion.
But they were already closed.
“Ma’am? Can you hear me?”
Somewhere in the fuzzy haze of her mind, Serenity had the impulse to answer, but her mouth refused to comply. Tiny slivers of clipped conversation rolled over her mind, crashing like turbulent ocean waves before receding into dusky blips.
Need another backboard here…pulse is strong…I think she’s coming around…
Huh. She must’ve fallen asleep watching one of those medical dramas. But wait, she’d already gotten up to take the early shift at the diner. And why did her head feel so funny, like a playground ball with a slow leak?
Serenity dialed her memory forward, past the chill and shiver of the pre-sunrise April hour, past the sharp click of the deadbolt sliding free as she let herself into the diner, past the hard prickle on her spine that signaled something innately wrong…
Police are on their way…you may be in danger…
Oh, God. There was an intruder in the diner. She had to move.
“Uh!” Serenity forced her eyes wide, white halos shifting in rings around the iridescent shapes as she tried to jolt forward. But a whipcord of pain rattled through her like utensils being slammed around in a kitchen drawer, and she fought the urge to throw up with all her waning might.
“Whoa! Take it easy, there. My name is Scott, and I’m a paramedic with Brentsville Fire and Rescue. I’m here to help you.” A man dressed in a dark blue uniform flickered over her like a stop-time movie, his hands anchoring her into place, and hold on… why was she lying on the floor?
&n bsp; There had been a stranger…but where was he now?
Serenity willed her brain back to order, staring up at the paramedic even though it made her eyes feel like they’d been vacuum-packed and covered in push pins. “Man…there’s a man…my friend is hurt…” Colin had been bleeding, hadn’t he? Panic cranked through her ribcage, mixing with her jangled confusion, but the paramedic’s voice was oddly reassuring as he knelt down beside her.
“You’re both safe now. The police are here, and I’m going to take care of you while they check everything out. Can you tell me your name?”
“S-Serenity.”
“Feeling any pain, Serenity?” Someone outside her field of vision—behind her, maybe?— clasped a hand on either side of her face, and the move sent ruthless stabs of pain from the back of her skull all the way around to her temples.
“Ow! My head.”
“I’m sorry,” Scott said, his tone genuine but firm. “We have to keep your neck stable as a precaution. Can you rate your pain on a scale of one to ten?” His hands flurried over her in a blur of purposeful motion, and she blinked up at the ceiling, her head spinning like a rickety carnival ride.
Whoa. “Six.” Her gag reflex made her a liar. “Or seven.”
The paramedic slipped a blood pressure cuff over her arm with no wasted movement. “Do you know where you are?”
Serenity wrinkled her nose at the question. “I’m on the floor,” she said, and she caught the guy’s smile from her peripheral vision. Her cheeks went hot as she added, “At Mac’s. I’m at the diner.”
He nodded. “And what day of the week is it?”
“Thursday. No, Friday,” she blurted. Of course it was Friday, their busiest morning of the week. God, she needed to get up.
“Any nausea, vomiting, dizziness?” Scott shined an obnoxiously bright light into her eyes, and okay, she officially hated this. Serenity placed her hands against the hard tile and pushed, breaking the grip of whoever had been steadying her head. An icy sweat popped over her brow as she registered another paramedic leaning over Colin a few steps away, but she couldn’t see anything else before Scott and his cohort maneuvered her back to the floor.
“Is Colin okay?” Her stomach climbed up to her throat, turning her words to a high-pitched croak as her memory filtered back in slow, disjointed blips. “I think he’s bleeding. Please—”
Scott appeared in her line of sight, seriousness etched on his face. “My partner is taking care of him, I promise. But you’ve sustained a head injury, and that means you’ve got to be still while we check you out. Are you feeling any nausea?”
As much as she wanted to fib and say no so he’d let her get up, Serenity couldn’t. “Maybe a little,” she admitted, swallowing back a queasy pang that would’ve made the fib a straight-up whopper. Maybe moving so fast hadn’t been her best plan.
“Okay, Serenity. I’m going to stabilize your back and neck, just as a precaution, and take you to Brentsville Memorial so the doctors can take a better look.” Scott reached out for a big, scary-looking neck brace, and panic jolted through her chest.
“I can’t go to the hospital! I have to call Colin’s wife. And I’m responsible for the diner. I can’t just leave! My employees will be here soon, and we’ll have customers—”
The paramedic shook his head in an adamant no. “The police will make sure it’s all taken care of. But right now, you need to get checked out.”
Her hopes did a swan dive right alongside her gut, but she refused to just give in. “Can you at least call my manager, Julianna, to open the diner? Her number is in my cell phone. She’ll know what to do.”
As long as Jules didn’t go all stubborn on her, anyway. Serenity prayed she’d be able to convince her friend to skip a worried trip to the hospital in favor of calling in their night cook to help get things started in the kitchen. That way Mac’s could at least open, albeit late, and maybe Serenity could stay with Colin at the hospital until his wife got there. God, she hated that she couldn’t see him from her vantage point on the floor. She couldn’t even make a stupid phone call right now.
And her head felt like she’d been on a four day bourbon-bender with a heavy metal band.
Scott re-appeared in her line of vision, but focusing on him took more effort than it should. “We can have someone from the hospital get in touch with your manager, but I wouldn’t plan on opening any time this morning,” he said, nodding at the firefighter as they cradled her head to slide the neck brace into position.
Serenity’s mouth went dry, the hard plastic pinching at her shoulders through the thin cotton of her T-shirt as fresh confusion spun through her already muddled brain. “Why not?”
The paramedic’s eyes met hers, and although his expression went soft, his words were dead serious as they triggered the cold realization she’d been missing in all the chaos.
“The police are going to be here awhile, Serenity. Your diner is officially a crime scene.
CHAPTER TWO
Jason Morgan ducked beneath the bright yellow crime scene tape strung across the trees in front of Mac’s Diner, his senses on full alert and his head on a swivel. Dew still lingered in the crevices of the well-traveled sidewalk, dampening them to a smudgy gray, and the cheery sunlight pouring down from overhead served as a hell of an irony considering it brightened a crime scene. The fact slid beneath Jason’s calm demeanor, scraping at him for a brief second before he defused it. Yes, Mac’s was familiar territory, and yes, it rankled that a vicious act had been committed in a place where he ate lunch every Wednesday.
But vicious went with the job, which meant keeping those feelings at arm’s length was a moral imperative, no matter how tempted he was to do otherwise.
“You’re late.” Noah Blackwell crossed his arms over his plain white button-down shirt, his badge glinting from its spot next to the Glock on his belt. Jason’s best friend and partner of three years served him with the same expression of pure nothing he always wore, prompting an oh-hell-no expression over Jason’s face.
Jason had been forced to save up his ribbing for two months while Noah recovered from a gunshot wound to the arm. No way was he doing this somber and serious thing now that the guy was finally all-systems-go again. Not that Jason had ever been a fan of serious in the first place.
“Good morning to you, too,” he said, unable to keep his smirk in check. Damn, it was good to have Noah back on active duty. Even if the guy had fallen in love with Jason’s twin sister while he’d been injured. Jason amped up his smile as he mentally plugged his ears and sang la-la-la at the thought of his sister involved with anyone— even his best friend. “You’ve been here since five minutes after Lieu called this in, haven’t you?”
“I can’t help it you’re a slacker,” Noah popped back, his raised brow the only change to his trademark stony demeanor. He scanned the periphery of the surrounding block, although Jason was willing to bet it wasn’t for the first time, or even the second. “I’ve been here a few minutes.”
Jason did a reverse of Noah’s visual sweep, starting from the other side of the scene. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, right down to the cherry-red awning fluttering in the breeze overhead, and shit. Wasn’t that just going to make this case fun from the start. “You get the initial from the uniforms inside?”
Noah nodded in one singular lift of his chin. “Yup.”
God, it was too good to pass up. “Then you’ve been here for more than a few minutes, you fucking workaholic.”
Noah cracked a rare half-grin, bringing Jason’s attention back to the neatly-kept ribbon of sidewalk in front of Mac’s. “Sorry. I’m just glad to be out from behind the desk, you know?”
“I’ve been listening to you complain about being a desk jockey for the last four weeks,” Jason reminded him, letting the humor seep into his voice. Better to joke about it than ponder the alternative. He jerked his head at the double glass doors, smoothing his expression. “What’ve we got?”
“Robbery-assault, forced entry through the back.”
Shock streaked through Jason’s chest. “We haven’t seen one of those since last month when we nailed the guy who shot you.”
Jason had made the case his personal mission, throwing all he had into catching Noah’s shooter. Coming up with an arrest had reminded Jason exactly why he did this job. Getting criminals off the street was satisfaction enough. But putting a cop-shooter behind bars? That was a special brand of justice.
