Dana Mentink - Act Of Valor

“Four. Your mother said it was four dishes.”

“My mother lied to make you feel better. I’m not as kind as she is.”

“Get your bag, Vi,” he said with a chuckle. He felt her staring at him. “What is it now?”

A gentle smile lit her face. “You laughed. I haven’t heard you laugh since...” The smile faded. “I mean...for weeks.”

He lifted a shoulder and grabbed for Eddie’s leash. Violet had always been able to make him laugh with that combination of edgy humor and intelligence, matching him tease for tease. He knew a lot of great women—pretty, smart, ambitious—dated many of them, but none like her. There was something just... better about her, which he could not pin down. Probably she seemed different because he’d known her since she was a gap-toothed first-grader. Still, Violet was irreplaceable and if he and God were on speaking terms, he’d say a prayer of thanks that she was unharmed. Anger bit hard at him.

He and God weren’t friends anymore. Zach deserved to encounter shipwrecks in his life, he’d probably caused most of them with his combination of impulsivity and stubbornness, but Jordy... God should have looked out for Jordy. No, he and God were no longer on speaking terms.

Shoving on his hat, he strode out of the room, grateful to have Vi clipping along in her pumps right next to him.

* * *

Violet kept her pace quick in spite of the twinges in her back and her throbbing cheekbone. She would not let Zach see her discomfort, especially the inner turmoil simmering below the surface like a monster fish ready to suck her under. She didn’t want to speak of her feelings, not the real, raw, deep-down ones. Not to Zach.

He has too much on his heart already. I can’t add to his burdens. Besides, they had their roles: he the jokester, overprotective big-brother type, and she the in-control, stand-up-to-anyone tough girl. She intended to keep it that way for both their sakes.

Bad enough that everyone was no doubt waiting at the diner, talking about what had happened. Her father would press for her to move into the cramped bedroom at the house in Rego Park where she’d grown up, but that would be going backward and she would not allow herself to give in to the fear. The airport attack was upsetting, traumatic, but it wasn’t going to derail her progress. Her college classes were starting up again in a matter of weeks, and this time she wasn’t going to take a break until she had that business degree firmly in her possession.

She was grateful that Zach did not seem to be in a talking mood as they exited the terminal and climbed on a shuttle. They made their way to the parking structure where Zach’s car occupied a reserved police spot. Inside the garage the gloom felt smothering, the acrid scent of gasoline and exhaust making her stomach flip over. Eddie shook his muzzle as if to clear away the barrage of odors.

The silence grew tedious as they stepped into the garage elevator. She noticed the steely look on Zach’s face. Claustrophobic, though he staunchly denied it. It brought her back to a day when the two of them, teenage rebels cutting school to go to the beach, had discovered a massive drainage pipe and stupidly gone in to explore. The deeper they’d gone into that cement tube, the sweatier and more panic-stricken Zach had become until she’d thought he was going to pass out. Grabbing his wrist, she’d led him from the pipe to a spot of sand where she’d held him around the shoulders until his breathing quieted.

“Sorry, Vi,” he’d said, mortified, forehead pressed to hers.

She’d squeezed his fingers, kissed him on the cheek, made a joke and never mentioned the incident again. It was her gift to him, a secret kept, a silent pact from two childhood friends. And he’d kept her secrets, too. In eighth grade Gil Fisher had stolen her journal from her locker. Violet wasn’t a writer, but inside were her sketches of the boys she’d had crushes on, complete with colored hearts around them. Gil was prepared to share her private drawings with every kid in the school until Zach got a hold of him. Whatever he’d said to Gil she would never know, but Gil had promptly handed back the journal and none of them had ever spoken of it. She wondered for the millionth time if Zach had seen the last picture in the journal, a picture she’d sketched of him.

As the elevator shuddered upward, the tight line of his jaw indicated that he was gritting out the ride. She wished she had the nerve to take his hand again and tell him she still understood, had his back through whatever would come. She yearned to comfort him about Jordy’s death. How the touch would comfort her, too, still the wobbling in her stomach and the trembling in her knees. But they had roles to play, didn’t they? Instead, she watched the buttons light the way to the third floor and stepped out next to him.

Violet sighed. “Satisfied? We made it to your car safe and sound. Box checked. The first part of your job is done.”

He frowned. “You’re not just a job, Vi.”

He didn’t look at her when he said it, and she knew the words hadn’t been easy for him to get out. She gentled her tone. “I know. Thanks for everything.”

“I’ll get you settled in at your apartment. Make sure everything’s secure.”

“Not necessary.”

“Did you get an alarm system or a Doberman since I was there last?”

“No.”

“Then I’ll check the doors and windows, since your roomie’s out of town.”

She threw up a hand. “Okay. You win.”

“That’s a first.”

“It probably won’t happen again anytime soon.”

“Then I’ll just bask in the glow.”

She stopped at the rear bumper when he touched her shoulders.

“Really, Vi. Kidding aside. I want you to be careful.” His hands wandered up her back, coming to rest on her neck under her hair. The blue of his eyes lulled her, his face so incredibly handsome.

A squealing of tires split the air. Zach’s head jerked up. A car peeled around the curve, a flash of a familiar face behind the wheel, big, barrel-chested.

Her attacker.

Joe Brown.

Eyes slitted, ruthless, determined half smile.

The car bore down on them. Zach shoved Violet behind him.

In terror she grappled to get hold of his shirt and pull him back with her between the parked cars, but he was turning, reaching for his side arm, shouting.

The car careened on, charging toward Zach and Eddie like a heat-seeking missile until the front bumper plowed into the rear of Zach’s SUV.

Glass shattered somewhere close, pinging her with tiny chips. She stumbled.

Zach leaped backward, pulling Eddie with him, crashing into the side of the vehicle. A bright drop of blood splattered the rear passenger window.

Zach lay on the ground, eyes closed, while Eddie whined and pawed at his chest.

Zach felt pressure on his rib cage, a flash of hot pain on his cheek, followed by the clammy squelch of a probing dog nose. Cold from the cement floor seeped through his uniform shirt. The sensations coalesced all at once into a frantic need to move. He opened his eyes and jerked to a sitting position, sending Eddie into another round of high-pitched yelping. He saw himself mirrored in Violet’s brown irises as she stared down at him. She pressed a hand to his sternum.

“Stay still. I’ll call for an ambulance.”

He ignored her, struggling to his feet while scanning the parking lot for Joe Brown. He was long gone. Zach bit back a growl of frustration, jerked his radio free and called in. The on-duty police and TSA were alerted to look for the vehicle. It was the best they could do. He declined medical help, of course. Mercifully, Violet appeared unharmed. One thing had gone right, anyway.