Annslee Urban - Broken Silence

“He’s a cute one. Too bad. It looks as though he’s already taken.”

Amber fanned faster.

“Oh, dear.”

Amber slanted a glance at Kim. “ Oh, dear , what?”

Kim’s eyes grew wide. “Detective Hunk and his friend got up from their table and are heading this way.”

“Both of them?”

Kim nodded.

Amber’s glance flickered to the two people across the street waiting for the light at the crosswalk. Patrick was dressed casually in jeans and a sweatshirt and stood next to a beautiful young blonde wearing slacks and a black sequined sweater. Everything about her exuded elegance and grace.

Amber had expected no less.

Still, her heart slipped.

She yanked her gaze away, hoping they were heading on a walk by the river and not coming her way. Yes, a nice evening stroll sounded like a fun couple’s activity. She chastised herself for being paranoid. Of course that was what they were doing.

Concern fell away but memories swam to the surface. Of long walks along the riverfront, she and Patrick, hand in hand, talking and laughing as they glanced out across the water and admired the wave runners and colorful sailboats bobbing in the shifting seas while a light breeze rippled around them.

A simple pleasure that now Patrick probably enjoyed with someone else.

Casting an inward sigh, Amber picked up her cup and shot a forged smile at Kim, who was nibbling on a cookie and eyeing her warily.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Amber nodded with more hope than conviction.

But within the next heartbeat she made a conscious decision to forget about Patrick Wiley and his personal life. No doubt a lot had changed in his life since she’d handed him back his ring.

People move on, so why shouldn’t he?

Amber perked up in her seat and blew out a breath as common sense reasserted itself. Actually, she was happy for him, even if her own prospects of finding love again looked rather bleak.

“Amber.”

Her heart clenched when Patrick called her name.

Shifting in her seat, she looked up as he walked over to her, his friend at his side.

“I thought that was you.” He grinned widely.

Too bad he was right. “Hi, Patrick.” Amber pasted on a smile and then gestured across the table. “This is a friend of mine, Kim Livingston. Kim, Patrick Wiley.”

“Nice to meet you.” Patrick’s gaze shifted from Kim to the woman next to him. “This is Liza Jenson. She’s a police criminologist who will be helping on the case. I thought you’d like to meet her.”

Even up close, Liza was lovely. Great smile, even teeth. She and Patrick made a nice couple. Amber’s heart slipped further, yet she sat up straighter and held her smile, pretending that seeing him with Liza—or any woman—didn’t rattle her in the least. “Nice to meet you, Liza.”

Liza nodded. “Patrick and I were just talking about you.”

Her smile fled. “Oh?”

“Actually we were discussing your case and trying to decide what direction to pursue next,” Patrick said, curbing any speculation that his conversation with Liza involved anything about their past relationship.

The breeze intensified, blowing strands of hair against Amber’s cheeks. Reaching up, she tucked them behind her ear and attempted to remain calm and put on a good face. But one look at Patrick’s strong, chiseled features and her stomach did an irrational juvenile tumble. “Well, I appreciate both of your efforts to solve the case.” She glanced at her watch. This little tête-à-tête was going nowhere. “Look at the time. I should get going.”

“You haven’t even finished your dessert.” Kim shot her a questioning glance.

“Sorry. I still have things to do tonight and I’m not very hungry.” At least not anymore. Amber abandoned her coffee on the table, and as she launched to her feet, her knee banged into the table leg, sending her cup crashing onto the brick pavers. Curious glances shot her way.

Amber sucked in a gasp and stumbled forward as searing pain shot through her knee and it buckled. Her ability to stand was further compromised as she tripped over her messenger bag that had slid from her shoulder.

“Amber!” Patrick called out as his strong arms wrapped around her, catching her before she hit the ground.

Patrick’s solid arms kept her steady but sent her heart into palpitations. She stiffened against him, working to catch her breath as the familiar scent of his aftershave wrapped around her senses. Calm never seemed possible again.

“Are you okay?” Patrick slanted her a wary look, probably wondering why she was gasping for air like a beached trout.

She gazed into his dark eyes and nodded, her cheeks hot. “Yes, just clumsy.”

Kim jumped up, grabbed a chair and scooted it forward. “Would you like to sit down?”

“No, that’s okay.” Amber waved off any help as her sense of equilibrium returned. She pulled out of Patrick’s hold and willed her heart to slow.

She took a step; glass crunched. She glanced down and noticed the broken china at her feet. “Oh, dear, I better clean that up.” She reached for some napkins, but Patrick grabbed a handful first.

“I can get it.”

Amber’s pulse kicked higher as she watched Patrick, who was down on one knee, pick up shattered glass and wipe up the puddle of coffee. “Thank you for doing that.”

“No problem.” He easily grinned.

Her chest went tight at his sense of chivalry. So attentive and helpful. When was the last time she’d met a guy like Patrick Wiley?

Never.

Suppressing a sigh, she picked up her large tote, clutched it to her side and pulled her focus back on her plans to get going.

As Patrick got to his feet, he sent her a nod. “How’s your knee?”

“Better.” She smiled and said, “Thank you again for taking care of the mess.”

Before he could comment, she whirled around. “Good night, everyone.” She left with a little parting wave, sending Kim a reassuring smile. “We’ll talk soon.”

Amber hiked the strap of her bag on her shoulder and headed down the sidewalk in the direction of her car, wincing at the sharp pain in her knee and doing her best to avoid limping while hoping her sutures stayed intact.

As she made a turn onto Mulberry Street, she heard someone behind her. She hated feeling paranoid, but the sound of heavy boots clapping against the pavement made her pulse race. She quickened her gait, her eyes pointed forward.

The boot steps accelerated, moving closer, then came up directly behind her. She was suddenly struck with an eleven-year-old memory. Her pursuer’s thudding footsteps the night she was attacked. So quickly he came at her and once he grabbed her—

A hand caught her arm and panic exploded in her chest. As a silent scream ballooned in her throat, she wheeled around, adrenaline surging...and saw Patrick. Catching her breath and willing her heart to slow, she felt equal parts disappointment and relief.

“Amber, what happened back there?”

“Back at the café?” She pulled away and started walking again, trying to regulate her breathing. “Do you mean why I left?”

Patrick kept pace with her. “You didn’t just leave. You took off like a scared jackrabbit.”

So she had been that obvious? Amber didn’t slow down, but cast a sidelong glance his way. “I didn’t mean to be rude. I just have a lot on my mind.” Patrick Wiley included.

“I understand that you don’t like to dwell on what happened, but the truth is, a bomb blew up your car and we need to figure out who did it.”

Even on his night off, didn’t this man rest? “I understand your need to investigate the crime, Patrick. I just didn’t expect to see you when you’re off duty.”