Page 33

“Thanks, Ben.”

“My pleasure. With that, I’m going to head upstairs and spend some time with my wife. See you next Tuesday at St. Luke’s?” he asked Daniel.

“Yeah. I’ll try to make it through a whole session this time.”

“Give yourself time.” Ben held up his prosthetic arm. “Took me a while to figure out my place in civilian life. Your life’s not going to be like it was before,” he advised, speaking from experience. “But it can be a good life. Find your purpose.” He smiled at Polly. “Find someone who supports you and cares about you—accepts it when you need to be alone and pushes you when you don’t need to be.” He reached down to roughhouse for a few seconds with Pirate. “And remember, you have friends. You are not alone.”

Daniel offered him a curt, grateful nod. “Roger that.”

With that, Ben headed up the stairs at the side of the barn, leaving them the yard and a few extra minutes to let the dogs play.

Luna pounced on Pirate, Pirate rolled onto his back and somehow Daniel ended up slipping when he reached to untangle their lines. He landed flat on his back in the snow, staring up at the stars. Polly laughed—until he tugged her hand and pulled her down beside him.

Her laughter morphed into a startled gasp. And then they were both laughing as the dogs used the pile of people to play king of the mountain and jump off to tackle each other in the snow. He brushed snow off her stocking cap and out of her hair. Snowflakes clung to her lashes as she looked at him. She brushed her gloved hand against his scarred cheek, and for once Daniel didn’t flinch.

When he helped her up, he didn’t let go. Neither of them said anything as they gathered the dogs, but maybe they didn’t need to. The air between them felt charged—every look, every breath saying things neither had the courage to speak aloud.

They walked together to his truck, her gloved hand tucked into his scarred one. The snow whispered around them, soft flakes catching in her hair and on the brim of his stocking cap. They got the dogs settled into the back seat, both animals curling up with sleepy sighs after their evening lesson and playtime.

Daniel turned to open the passenger door for her, the cold biting at the edges of his awareness. But when Polly hesitated, he froze. She tipped her face up, her green eyes luminous in the dim light of the lot, and then—so softly he almost doubted it was real—she stretched up on tiptoe and pressed her lips to his.

Soft. Brave. Shy.

The contact hit him like a live wire. For an instant, instinct warred with disbelief. Then muscle memory—rusty, uncertain—took over. He lifted his hand to the back of her head, his fingers tangling gently in her ponytail. They moved together until the fronts of their coats rustled softly—fabric whispering in the cold like a secret shared only between them.

Her lips moved against his—tentative, tasting. The corner of his mouth didn’t stretch easily; scar tissue pulled, unfamiliar, tight. But her sigh was a balm. She adjusted without hesitation, following his lead, finding the shape of him the way a musician learns a new instrument—by feel, by patience, by heart.

He parted his mouth just enough to breathe her in. She tasted faintly of sweet coffee, warmth and promise. He hadn’t kissed anyone in so long that the sensation felt foreign and electric—like teaching his body to speak a language he’d almost forgotten.

Her gloved hand slid up his chest, slipping beneath the collar of his coat, then higher—to the nape of his neck, where her fingers curled into his skin and held on. He could feel the pressure there, firm and wanting. But below that—along the side of his jaw, over the damaged skin—her touch barely registered. But it was there. A ghost of sensation where nerve endings had gone silent. Yet the sight of her, the sound of her soft hum as she pressed closer, filled the void his body couldn’t feel.

He drew her in, his arm circling her waist, the bulk of their coats no match for the heat sparking between them. When she shivered, he didn’t know if it was from the cold or from the heat they shared.

Her breath hitched when he deepened the kiss, coaxing rather than taking, finding a rhythm that worked for them both. He learned the gentle tilt that avoided the taut pull of his scars. Learned that he could still make her tremble, still make himself feel alive.

By the time he eased back, her eyes were half lidded, her lips parted, her breath mingling with his in the cold air. His heart pounded so hard it almost drowned out the quiet night.

“I shouldn’t want this as badly as I do,” he murmured, his voice rough with awe and hunger. His thumb brushed over her lower lip, marveling that she didn’t flinch from his touch. “But I want it.”

“I want it, too,” she whispered.

The words hung between them, visible in the fog of their mingled breath. And just as she leaned in again, his phone buzzed sharply in his pocket—an intrusive, vibrating jolt that shattered the fragile spell.

Reluctantly, they broke apart. He was glad for the frosty air to cool the fever still simmering in his blood. He swiped at the phone screen—Joel Standage’s name lit up and a different sort of instinct took over. The need to keep Polly safe snapped through him. He quickly got her inside the truck and jogged around the front to climb in behind the wheel. He hoped the man had some answers for him.

“Joel.” Daniel answered the call and punched a button on his phone. “You’re on speaker. Polly’s here with me. Tell me you found something.”

The detective didn’t waste any words. “KCPD found Neil Porter.”

Polly’s fingers twisted into the sleeve of Daniel’s coat. “Did you talk to him? Why is he doing this to me? To us?”

“He’s not,” Joel said. “He’s dead. Don’t know if it was a carjacking or a robbery. Judging by the neighborhood where he was found, it could’ve been a drug deal gone wrong. But he’s got two bullets in him. The ME is going to do a full autopsy, but he thinks he’s been dead for five or six days.”

Polly’s breath hitched. “Dead? Then who was driving the brown car? Who sent me that note this morning?”

“The lab hasn’t confirmed any prints off it yet.” Daniel’s jaw clenched as Joel answered. “But probably the guy who killed him.”

Chapter Nine