Marie Ferrarella - In His Protective Custody

“Would you mind if we spoke to your wife?” Zane requested.

Harry hesitated, seemingly concerned. “Abby’s had rather a hard day and she just now managed to drop off to sleep, but if you feel that it’s necessary to talk to her, I can wake her up for you.” With that, Harry turned on his heel, ready to go off to the bedroom and wake up his wife to accommodate the police.

Zane stopped the man before he went to his bedroom.

“No, that’s all right. Let your wife sleep. Just remember to try to rein in your ‘enthusiasm’ next time,” he cautioned the man. His business over, he saw no reason to put the other man out any further. “Have a good night, Mr. McBride. What’s left of it,” he added with a side glance toward Alyx.

With that, he turned away from the apartment.

“Good night,” Harry echoed behind him, shutting the door.

“And that’s it?” Alyx demanded, hissing the words at Calloway as the police officer began to walk away.

He stopped and deliberately pinned her with a less than charitable eye. “Unless you can think of something else.”

It was clear by his tone that he didn’t expect to be on the receiving end of any further input from her. His job here was done. He had a cold beer waiting for him in the refrigerator and he wanted to get to it.

“Unless I can think of something else?” Alyx echoed, staring at him in disbelief. “Yes, I can think of something else. How about talking to his wife? How about looking at his wife? One bruise one time means that she’s being clumsy. More bruises means that she’s someone’s idea of a punching bag. Women like that need to be helped, to be guided. Because after a while, they start to think that they deserve it.”

“Letting your imagination run away with you a little, aren’t you?” Zane asked.

Still out in the hallway, he cocked his head to listen. “Well, it looks to me like the battling factions have decided to call it a night.”

“They weren’t battling factions,” Alyx corrected tersely. “Battling factions would indicate that there were two sides. From the sound of it, Harry was the only one getting in his licks. All his wife was doing was whimpering pathetically like some wounded, frightened animal.”

Another woman “crying wolf.” She was wasting his time and he was tired. “Uh huh. Well, I don’t hear anything now. Look at it this way, maybe you scared him into acting responsibly.”

By the sarcasm in his voice, she knew the policeman didn’t believe that—and neither did she. Harry McBride was a bully who would continue being a bully as long as he felt that no one would challenge him and he could get away with it.

About to leave, Zane hesitated for a moment. It was always good to cover your tail. His father had taught him that while he was still on the force, still part of his life. There were times when he couldn’t help wondering how much more he would have been able to learn from his father had his father not cut his life so short.

Digging into his shirt pocket, Zane took out his business card. Handing it to the feisty, obviously dissatisfied blonde, he said purely for form sake, “If they start up again, call me.”

Did that mean he finally believed her, or was he just humoring her in an effort to make a quick getaway with a clear conscience?

In either case, she intended on taking him up on what he’d just proposed.

Closing her fingers over the business card, Alyx raised her eyes to his. “I’ll do that,” she promised, her voice even.

Zane barely managed to suppress a world-weary sigh. “I’m sure that you will, Miss Pulaski.”

“Doctor,” Alyx corrected the cocky police officer. He raised a quizzical brow, so she elaborated, “It’s Dr. Pulaski.”

Zane inclined his head. “Sorry. Dr. Pulaski,” he deliberately stretched out the name. “Good night now.” And with that, he was on his way.

“Good night,” Alyx echoed, calling after his retreating back. She walked into her apartment, trying her best to put the whole incident behind her.

She could more easily just stop breathing.

He didn’t believe her, she thought, chewing on her lower lip as she closed her door. Officer Calloway didn’t believe her. As an afterthought, she threw the dead bolt in place.

Why didn’t he believe her?

What could she possibly have to gain by accusing Harry McBride of something he hadn’t done? Only someone psychotic would do that.

With a shrug, Alyx tried to put the whole incident behind her again. She only had a few precious hours left before she had to turn up at the ER bright-eyed and bushy-tailed—and under the Dragon Lady’s thumb.

God knew she needed her rest for that to happen. And rehashing the events of the past half hour over and over again simply would not give her that rest.

Alyx was halfway across the living room, on her way to the bedroom and her bed, when she heard the doorbell ring. She froze.

Had the officer forgotten something?

Or, better yet, had he changed his mind about why she’d made the call?

Hurrying back to the front door, Alyx threw it open before looking through the peephole, something she never did under ordinary circumstances. But anger and exhaustion had made her sloppy. And the need for validation had done the same.

Surprise throbbed through her veins.

She wasn’t looking at the cynical officer with the sinful mouth. She was looking up at Harry McBride.

Gone like the pastel chalk marks of a brightly decorated sidewalk beneath the onslaught of a sudden, unexpected summer shower was the friendly, all-accommodating expression Harry had worn for the officer’s benefit.

In its place was a cold, calculating look that could easily make a woman’s blood all but contract within its veins.

The look in his eyes was positively malevolent. “Listen, I’m only going to say this once, hear? If you don’t back off and mind your own damn business, I am going to make sure that you regret the day you ever moved into the building and started meddling in my life. Hell, I’m going to make you wish you were never born. Do I make myself clear?” he growled.

Mama, Alyx knew, would have insisted that she say she understood and then meekly withdraw out of the hulking ape’s way. But she wasn’t about to do as Mama said; she was about to do as Mama did. And that involved not allowing herself to be intimidated by a Neanderthal oaf. Ever.

She issued a threat of her own.

“If I see you lay another hand on Abby, you will be the one with regrets, Mr. McBride. I will report you so fast, your head will spin. And not just to some indifferent police officer. I have three cousins who are married to NYPD police detectives and they, I assure you, are no pushovers. You won’t be able to snow them or lie your way out of the situation.”

With each word Alyx uttered, she could see that Harry struggled more and more to keep from lashing out at her. The only thing, she felt certain, that kept him from hitting her was the fact that he didn’t know whether or not she was telling him the truth about her relatives.

True cowards never tested boundaries—at least not when they could be easily identified. They fought dirty, with their identities hidden by masks or shadows. She would have to be extra careful for a while. And she would really need to watch her back.

“Go to hell!” McBride growled at her. The next moment, he stomped back into his apartment and slammed the door so hard her own door shuttered in response.

Now there was someone definitely in need of anger management classes, Alyx mused, testing the integrity of her locks and the one chain that Marja’s husband-to-be had put up for her at the insistence of all of her cousins. At the time she’d thought it was just so much overkill. After all, the building came with a doorman who didn’t allow just anyone to saunter to the elevators. But now, she was glad that her cousins had overruled her protest and installed the chain.