Jill Sorenson - Crash Into Me

Sonny had debriefed Staff Sergeant Paula DeGrassi, explaining that Stephen had been acting in self-defense and giving her sworn statement. After speaking with Grant via satellite phone, Sonny had excused herself politely, taken a few steps away from the crowd of officers aboard Destiny, and collapsed in an untidy heap on the deck.

Apparently, she’d needed more than air. Ac cording to the nice doctors at Scripps, she had two fractured ribs and suffered some internal bruising. She’d been poked and prodded, her midsection wrapped up tight as a drum. One of those pokes must have included a dose of pain medication, because sometime between then and now, she’d closed her eyes, and Grant had arrived from Virginia.

“Sorry,” she murmured, wincing at the pull in her sore ribs as she straightened.

“For what? Getting hurt?”

She nodded, although she’d been apologizing for falling asleep, as ridiculous as that seemed. “It’s nothing,” she said, minimizing her injury. “You didn’t have to come back.”

Hurt registered on his face. “What kind of boss would I be if I didn’t care about the welfare of my agents?”

Tears filled her eyes, because the relationship between them went deeper than employer-employee. He was the closest thing to a father she’d ever had, and they both knew it. “Sorry,” she said again, this time for getting sentimental.

He cleared his throat, not unaffected by the exchange. “Homicide found a pile of evidence in JT’s locker on Shelter Island. Photos of the victims, personal items, electrical cord…”

Sonny nodded. She hadn’t doubted JT’s guilt for an instant.

“It’s better than a signed confession,” he said gruffly. “Good work.”

Coming from a tight-lipped taskmaster like Grant, it was fine praise indeed. She fairly glowed with pride.

“About your review…”

The warm fuzzies left as quickly as they’d come.

“I’m thinking we’ll postpone it for now,” he continued, surprising her. “You haven’t taken any leave time in a while, and with your injuries, I recommend you do so. Six months down the road, or a year, when this whole thing blows over…”

She frowned at him. “You’re not turning me in to Internal Affairs?”

His expression was deliberately blank. “For what?”

“And Mitchell?” she asked, caution warring with giddiness. “Will he talk?”

“Leave Special Agent Mitchell to me,” Grant replied, eyes narrow.

Gratitude washed over her. “Thank you,” she said, reaching out to grab the front of his shirt. Ignoring the pain in her side, she pulled him close for an impulsive hug. “Thank you so much.”

While he tolerated her embrace, only a little less stiffly than he had before, she noticed the outline of another figure standing in the hall.

Grant lifted his head, following her gaze.

Instead of coming in, Ben hesitated outside the doorway, a gift-store bouquet of flowers in one hand and a wary expression on his handsome face.

As Grant straightened, he looked back and forth between them, understanding and acceptance in his intelligent gray eyes. Sometimes he knew her better than she knew herself. “You aren’t going to be working with me much longer, are you?”

Tears welled up again. “No,” she whispered.

If he was disappointed, he didn’t show it. Maybe this was what he’d hoped for her all along. To love herself, and someone else, enough to want to live past the age of thirty. “DeGrassi’s looking for an FBI liaison to San Diego Homicide.”

She swallowed. “You would approve of the transfer?”

He nodded slowly. When she leaned forward to hug him again, he held up a hand. “Please. Your young man already wants to rip me to shreds.”

Laughter bubbled from her throat. She was so happy, her ribs didn’t even hurt. With one last good-bye and a respectful nod at Ben, Grant was gone.

“Can I come in?” Ben asked.

Sonny leaned back against the pillows. “Of course,” she said, making a murmur of thanks when he set the bouquet on the nightstand. “How’s James?”

“Fine,” he said with a snort. “Eating pudding.”

“And Carly?”

“Won’t leave his side.”

She smiled at his affronted tone. After Carly’s near-death experience, Ben probably wanted to hold his daughter close, but Carly was more interested in making eyes at James. Her knight in shining armor. “What about Stephen? Is he still here?”

“Yes,” Ben said, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “He’s in the lobby, shivering. They offered him a sedative but he wouldn’t take it. I think he’s detoxing.”

Sonny wondered how long her half-brother’s sobriety would last. Getting clean was a hard row to hoe alone. “Maybe you could sponsor him.”

“You mean, pay for rehab?”

“That would be nice, but he might be too proud to accept your money. It wouldn’t cost anything to take him to a few meetings.”

Ben appeared to consider the idea, and although he didn’t make any promises, neither did he refuse outright. “You didn’t tell me you were hurt,” he said, changing the subject.

“Bumps and bruises,” she claimed.

He didn’t believe her for a second. “I’ve had broken ribs before. You won’t be able to take care of yourself.”

“Are you offering to nurse me back to health?” She’d been playing coy, but when he nodded, his eyes dark with intensity, her heart swelled with love for him. “It just so happens that I have some leave time,” she said. “I’ve been thinking I’d like to laze about on the beach for a few weeks, admire your cutback.”

He wasn’t fooled by her lighthearted banter. “Is that all we have? A few weeks?”

“Actually, I-”

“Never mind,” he interrupted. “It doesn’t matter.”

She blinked in confusion. “It doesn’t?”

“Not really,” he said, meeting her eyes. “After Olivia died, I’d have given anything to have one more day, one more hour, one more minute with her. I don’t want to make the same mistake with you.”

Warmth tingled in her belly. “Are you sure?”

He took her by the hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “Yes. I don’t like the idea of you risking your life, but I can’t ask you to give up your job. I couldn’t give up mine. So we’ll work around it. I’ll visit you in Virginia whenever I can.”

“You would do that?”

“Of course.”

She stared down at their entwined hands, her body humming with anxiety. Putting her heart on the line was the scariest thing she’d ever done. “I’m going to request a transfer.”

“You…what?”

“I’m leaving my position at VICAP,” she clarified. “No more undercover work.”

“Why?”

Taking a deep breath, she said, “I guess I found out some risks aren’t worth taking. Not when I have so much to lose.”

His brown eyes softened with understanding. With his dark hair hopelessly rumpled and worry lines creasing his forehead, he was still the handsomest man she’d ever seen. When her vision blurred, she blamed it on the medication. It also must have been responsible for her clogged throat, the heavy lub-dub of her heartbeat, and the swelling in her chest.

Because neither of them was able to speak, she reached out to him, lifting her hand to his face. He sank to his knees at her bedside, giving her easier access, and wrapped one arm around her, very gingerly. She threaded her fingers through his hair and brought him closer to her, grabbing handfuls of happiness and holding it tight.

Sonny pulled into the parking lot at Neptune Apartments, exhausted from the red-eye flight but giddy with anticipation.

Over the past few weeks, she’d slept too little and worked too much. Her lovely plans to recuperate on the beach, lazing about in the warm sun and admiring Ben’s cutback, had been thwarted by cold, hard reality. As soon as she was cleared to fly, she’d been whisked back to Quantico. Wrapping up a serial murder case was a meticulous, time-consuming process, and because of her involvement with every step of the investigation, her input was essential. Requesting a transfer to San Diego, giving notice to her landlord, and tying up the loose ends of her old life were also tasks that required hours of attention.