"He's unconscious." Jack strode into the room. "He'll need a transfusion right away." He closed his eyes briefly and drew in a deep breath. "He's Type O positive."
"How can you tell?" Lara kept the towel pressed against Harvey's wound as she looked Jack over. He looked so normal, if you could count extreme good looks as normal.
He knelt beside her. "I assume you called for backup and an ambulance?" When she nodded, he continued, "The man and woman won't remember me. I've altered their memories-"
"How? How do you do it?"
"It's hard to explain." He raised a hand when she started to object. "Not now, Lara. We're short on time, and we need to make sure your story matches up."
"You expect me to lie?"
"This is the truth for the couple in the kitchen. After the man shot your partner, he came after you. You hid his wife behind the table while you waited just inside the door. He barged inside, shooting wildly, and you knocked him on the back of the head with your baton."
"That's the way they remember it?"
"Yes. The guy fell unconscious on the floor. You cuffed him, then ran in here to help your partner."
"I don't think the guy was ever unconscious."
"He will be soon." Jack removed a white handkerchief from an inner coat pocket. "Give me your baton."
"He's already restrained. You're going to hit him?"
"Lara, the story has to make sense. It'll be more believable that you subdued an armed man who's bigger than you if you first rendered him unconscious."
He was right, though Lara didn't like to admit it. Sirens wailed outside. Backup was arriving, and hopefully, an ambulance for Harvey. "Here." She handed Jack the baton. "But don't hit him too hard."
Jack's mouth curled up. "You're too sweet for this line of work, bellissima." His smile faded. "That man tried to kill you. He deserves more than a knot on his head."
Jack left the room, holding the baton with the handkerchief. Lara wondered if he was right, and she cared too much. But if she didn't care, how could she be a good cop? She tensed, waiting for a sound.
Clonk. She winced. Harvey hadn't yelped or even moaned. He had obeyed Jack's order to remain quiet. In a few seconds, Jack was back and handing her the baton.
She wedged it under her belt. "How do you move so fast?"
He dragged a hand through his thick black hair. "There's no time to explain now."
But she wanted answers now, dammit. She knew the rest of tonight would be taken up with paperwork and hospital visits to check on Harvey. "Okay. Tomorrow."
She turned her head as footsteps pounded down the hallway outside. It sounded like a herd of elephants charging to the rescue. She could almost picture Tarzan riding on one of their backs. No, wait. The wildly handsome hero was already in the room.
"You'd better tell me everything tomorrow." She turned back to Jack.
He was gone.
"Oh, that smells good!" LaToya Lafayette dropped her handbag and keys on the console by the door. "What's cooking, girl?"
"Blackened redfish." Lara carefully turned the fish filets in the skillet.
"Great!" LaToya removed her purple LSU Tiger hoodie and fluffed up her glossy black corkscrew curls.
"It's been raining all damned day." She draped the damp sweatshirt over the back of a chair in their tiny living room. "So how come you're cooking? Not that I'm complaining. I love your cooking. But I was planning to take you out to celebrate."
"I don't want to make a big deal out of it."
"But it is a big deal." LaToya strode into the kitchen. "You saved that woman's life. Her children, too. And Harvey."
"I didn't save Harvey. The doctors did that."
"You're too modest, girl." LaToya washed her hands in the kitchen sink. "Everyone was talking about you at my precinct. I heard they're going to do a press conference with the chief of police giving you a commendation."
"Oh God, I hope not." Lara added chopped parsley and chives to the bowl of mashed potatoes.
"You know they'll milk this for all it's worth. Three months out of the academy and you're saving the day. You're like the poster child for how successful their training program is."
"But I didn't do anything!" Lara smashed a clove of garlic with the flat edge of a knife. "Jack did it."
"You know that. I know that. But nobody else does." LaToya leaned a hip against the counter. "Now don't look at me that way, holding a knife, girl."
Lara snorted as she scraped the smashed garlic into the potatoes. After a few hours of filling out forms and being interviewed by the detectives that had taken over the case, then another two hours spent at the hospital to check on Harvey, Lara had finally dragged home to her Brooklyn apartment about eight-thirty in the morning.
She'd recounted the story to LaToya before her friend had left for her job in the twenty-sixth precinct. Then,
Lara had showered and climbed into bed. But even in her state of exhaustion, she'd had trouble sleeping. Gunshots and screams bounced around in her head along with visions of Harvey, bleeding on the floor.
And she'd kept wondering about Jack. She'd decided the best way to thank him for charging to the rescue was a home-cooked meal, Louisiana style. She'd called his number, but he hadn't answered the phone. She left a message inviting him to dinner, then headed to the grocery store. She tried calling again about five p.m.
He never called back.
"What's in this salad?" LaToya studied the wooden bowl as she carried it to the table.
"Spinach, fire-roasted tomatoes, and pine nuts."
"Ooh, fancy." LaToya's gaze wandered over their best china, cloth napkins, and candlesticks. "You went to a lot of trouble here."
"I was bored." Lara loaded up two plates with fish and potatoes. "The captain ordered me to take some time off."
"With pay? You lucky dog." LaToya struck a match and lit the candles. "Even so, this seems awfully... romantic."
"Let's eat." Lara set the plates on the table.
LaToya's brown eyes narrowed as she blew out the match. "You did this for Jack, didn't you?"
Lara heaved a sigh as she sat at the table. There was no point in denying it. "All-right. I invited him to dinner, but he never returned my call. That doesn't mean I wasn't planning to eat with you."
Latoya sat across from her. "Girl, I know when three's a crowd. I would have left you alone with the mystery man. But you say he never called back?"
"Nope." Lara heaped some salad into their salad bowls. "And I left two messages on his voice mail."
"Maybe he didn't get them."
"I'm not calling him again. That would sound desperate. And I'm not desperate. At all." Liar. She had really wanted to see him again.
LaToya drizzled balsamic vinaigrette over her salad. "That jerk. I'm tempted to call him myself and give him a piece of my mind."
"No!"
LaToya smirked, then strode toward the refrigerator. "I have the perfect solution for this. Wine. It's multi-purposed. We can toast your heroic feats and drown our sorrows over disappointing men all at the same time."
"I'll drink to that." Lara stabbed at her salad. The food looked and smelled great, but her appetite was lacking. Damn that Jack. He didn't make any sense. He'd risked his life to help her, and now, he couldn't even return her call?
LaToya brought two glasses filled with white wine to the table. She sat and raised her glass. "A toast. To my best friend, a real hero."
"I'm not a hero. It's bad enough to hear it at work, but I don't want to hear from you, when you know the truth."
LaToya scowled at her. "Yeah, girl, I know the truth. If it wasn't for you, I'd still be a clerk in a convenience store in some town no one's ever heard of. You kept me going when I didn't think I could. You are my hero."
Lara's eyes misted with tears. She'd first met LaToya when they'd shared a hospital room together after her car accident. LaToya had been shot during a robbery at the convenience store where she worked. Whereas Lara had lived a pampered life before the accident, LaToya had struggled to survive years of abuse. "You hated me at first."
LaToya smiled. "I thought you were a spoiled little white girl. Miss Teen Louisiana."