Infinite Loop Page 7

The man’s shoulder jerked backward and he reflexively dropped his weapon. Mel was on her feet and moving as the gun clattered to the floorboards. She kicked the weapon away and forced the wounded man to the floor.

  “Fucking bitch cop, you shot me!” He writhed, clutching his injured shoulder.

  “Face down!” Mel shouted at the snarling man. “It’s over, pal. Put your hands where I can see them!”

  After cuffing his wrists, she retrieved his handgun and removed the clip, ejecting the unfired rounds and pocketing the ammo.

  “Hey, Hansen.” She got to her feet, glancing around for her partner. “You wanna Miranda this asshole?”

  She stopped speaking, almost stopped breathing. Hansen was still on the floor. Staring up at the ceiling, he was making wet, gasping noises that turned her stomach. She stumbled over to him and dropped to her knees next to his body.

  “Oh, Jesus, Hansen,” she whispered.

  Blood flowed freely from a large hole in his neck and he stared up at her with frightened brown eyes. Mel pressed one hand to the gaping wound and activated her shoulder mic with the other, reporting an officer and suspect down and requesting ambulances.

  From the bedroom doorway, a sobbing blond woman stared at her. Blood streamed from a cut on her forehead, and her mouth was slack from shock.

  “Go sit down,” Mel told her. “There’s help coming.” She placed her free hand against the one that was already on Hansen’s neck, desperate to hold his life inside. “Hold on, Hansen,” she murmured, hearing sirens. “You’re going to be fine. They’re coming right now.”

  Chapter Five

  Regan was curled up in her favorite chair in her favorite position, feet dangling over one arm and back propped against the other. The Princess Bride played on her television, perfect entertainment for the lonely night to come. She had just popped another gummy bear in her mouth, eyes fixed on Inigo’s sword fight with the man in black, when the doorbell rang. It was 6:30 p.m.

  Damn it. I told Adam I wasn’t in the mood for video games tonight. She rose from her chair and walked to the door. God, I wish it were Mel.

  She looked out the peephole and gasped at the sight of her visitor. Mel was standing on the front porch, eyes downcast. Heart pounding, Regan unlocked the door and pulled it open. Mel didn’t seem like the type to just show up unannounced. And she had company. A dark-featured man stood next to her, looking awkward.

  “Regan, hey.” Mel looked up. A bright white bandage covered her cheek, and her gray eyes were haunted, accented by dark circles that added years to her face. She radiated pain.

  “Mel. What happened?”

  “Ms. O’Riley?” The man beside Mel spoke. “I’m Detective Morales. Officer Raines was involved in a shooting earlier today.”

  Regan turned to Mel with frantic eyes. She looked her up and down, scanning a plain white T-shirt and dark navy sweatpants emblazoned with a Detroit Police Department logo. “Mel, are you all right?” She stepped forward before Mel could answer, reaching out to take her cold hands in her own.

  Mel’s lips twitched. “I’m okay. Look, I’m sorry to barge in on you in the middle of Friday night.”

  Regan glanced over at Morales, then slid her right hand up the back of Mel’s arm to grip her above the elbow. “It’s no big deal. I was just watching a movie. I’m glad you came. Are you sure you’re all right?”

  Morales cleared his throat, drawing Regan’s attention to his grave face. “She disabled the shooter after her partner was wounded by gunfire. She did real good, and everyone got out alive.”

  “For the moment,” Mel muttered darkly.

  Impulsively, Regan pulled her into a tight hug. Mel was tense in her arms for a moment before she melted into the embrace. “How badly wounded?” Regan whispered into Mel’s ear.

  Mel shook her head, tickling Regan’s cheek with her hair. “Pretty bad. They’re worried about spinal cord damage.”

  Regan tightened her arms around Mel. “Thank you for bringing her,” she told Detective Morales.

  Morales nodded. “Hey, Raines, we’ll call if we hear anything more tonight.”

  As he walked away, Regan tugged gently on Mel’s hand and didn’t release it until they were in her sitting room, standing next to the couch. She let go then only because she was not certain the contact was appreciated; as far as she was concerned, she never wanted to let go of Mel again. She could have died. Regan watched Mel lift her hands to her face and press the heels of her palms against her eyes. She shot someone tonight. Someone shot at her. I can’t even begin to understand that kind of bad day at work.

  As if she were in a daze, Mel sat. “I’m sorry to bother you with this.”

  “You know you’re not bothering me.” Regan reached out and let her hand hover in the air over Mel’s bandaged cheek. She blinked stinging tears from her vision; her fingers were a pale blur pushing dark hair out of Mel’s face. “I’m glad you came here. I mean it. You shouldn’t be alone after something…”

  “I didn’t want to be alone.” Mel gave a humorless smile. “What a prize, right?” She snorted in self-deprecation, and dropped her face into her hands. “Aren’t you so lucky that I asked you to dance?”

  Regan felt her lower lip quiver in frustration. “That’s how I’ve been feeling, if you want me to be honest. Lucky.”

  Mel raised her eyes, the disbelief frozen on her face almost comical in its magnitude. Regan was caught somewhere between laughing and crying at that look, unsure of whether to grab Mel tight or smack some sense into her. When she stood abruptly, Regan sprang up beside her, fearing a skittish retreat even though her visitor had nowhere to go without a car.

  “I’m sorry,” Mel mumbled. “I really shouldn’t have come here. I don’t know why—”

  Regan gripped Mel’s upper arm with her free hand. “Why shouldn’t you have come here? I want you here.”

  “I just shouldn’t do this to you.” Mel stared at her, blinking rapidly. “We’ve only had one real date.”

  Regan didn’t want to hear it. She stopped Mel’s lips with a finger. “Don’t say it.” She took a step closer and caught Mel’s fingers in hers, the contact light and non-threatening. “I’m here, Mel. Why don’t you let me be here for you?”

  Mel’s full lower lip began to tremble. “I just—” She took a deep breath, and the words spilled out of her in a rush. “I just wanted—God, I don’t know—I wanted to be in your life, somehow. But you don’t need me. Jesus, you don’t want me. Please, trust me on that.”

  Regan paused, shocked at the candor of Mel’s words. She wants me in her life? Her mouth hung open, and she had to shake her head to move past the moment. “You don’t know what I want. Or what I need.”

  Mel studied her face, and Regan hoped that she understood what she was saying. “I’m so fucked up. God, I’m just starting to realize how fucked up I really am. And I don’t need to drag you down with me. You deserve—” Mel squeezed Regan’s hand in hers. “You deserve so much, and I don’t know if I can—”

  “Stop.” Regan planted her other hand on Mel’s upper chest. “It’s too late. I’m involved. There’s nothing you can do about that.”

  Mel stared at her for a long time, her frank gaze making Regan squirm. Eventually a shy smile transformed her weary features and Regan’s control snapped. She leaned into Mel fast and without thought, wrapping her arms around Mel’s lean body in a hard hug. Mel barely hesitated before returning the embrace, burrowing her nose into the soft skin of Regan’s neck. For a moment they stood, simply breathing. Neither said a word.

  Mel broke the silence. “Nothing I can do about it, huh?” Warm breath tickled Regan’s throat.

  “Nope. Nothing.”

  Regan smiled against Mel’s hair, and then, only when it seemed absolutely necessary, she pulled away from their hug. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked in a low voice.

  Mel tugged at the collar of her T-shirt, a grimace on her face. “No, I really don’t.”

  “Then we
won’t. Why don’t you take a shower and I’ll get you something to change into?”

  Mel’s relief was telegraphed across her face. “A shower would be great.”

  Regan led her down the hallway to the bathroom. “I’ll get you a towel,” she said, flicking on the lights and stepping forward to retrieve a bath towel from the small closet next to the shower.

  She turned back around to find Mel pulling off her T-shirt. In another motion, she discarded her bra. Regan stood, towel forgotten in her hands. She’s not shy, is she? In fact, I think she’s the opposite of shy. Hastily, she averted her eyes. Just what exactly is the opposite of shy, anyway? Anti-shy?

  Mel cleared her throat, and Regan thrust the towel out blindly. “I’ll leave something for you to change into right outside the door.” Keeping her eyes to the floor, she left the room, closing the door behind her.

  Jesus God, I don’t care what anyone thinks, I’m a saint for keeping my eyes down.

  *

  After a quick search in her bedroom, Regan had a T-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts for Mel. The shower was running when she dropped them outside the bathroom door. Unsure of what to do next, she groaned when she finally realized what she was wearing: a faded Fraggles T-shirt, worn thin with age and love.

  “I should change,” she whispered.

  As if on cue, the shower stopped. Well, I guess the damage is already done.

  “Want a beer?” Regan shouted at the bathroom door.

  She heard the curtain drawn back and Mel answered, “Yeah, sure.”

  Resigned to her fashion statement, Regan went to the kitchen for two beers. She returned to the sitting room and waited for Mel, staring at the bottles sweating on the coffee table. So, what now? She folded her hands over her stomach, a little queasy with nerves. This is so definitely not a situation for a social retard.

  When Mel walked into the room minutes later, she was plucking at the boxer shorts she wore. “I like these. I just might have to steal them.” Her voice was light, almost playful.

  “You should,” Regan said, studying the expanse of bare legs before she could stop herself. Great. Sensitive. Embarrassed at her lapse, she forced her eyes to Mel’s face.

  “They look much better on you than they do on me.”

  “I doubt it.” Mel dropped onto the couch beside Regan, and looked her up and down. “Though I gotta tell you, the Fraggles shirt is fucking hot.”

  She couldn’t have stopped the blush if she’d tried. “Shaddup.”

  Chuckling, Mel reached out to touch the neck of one of the bottles of alcohol. “Is this for me?”

  “If you want it.”

  “Thanks.” Mel took a long, slow swallow, and sighed heavily. “I don’t usually drink, but I think I’ll make an exception tonight.”

  Regan took a small sip and set her own bottle down on the table. “Any particular reason why? That you don’t drink, I mean?”

  Mel’s gray eyes went steely. “My father’s an alcoholic. It normally doesn’t appeal to me.”

  The admission was nearly emotionless, but Regan could see Mel searching for a reaction. Sensing she wasn’t looking for sympathy, Regan simply nodded her head. “Understandable.”

  After a few silent moments, Mel sniffed loudly and fixed Regan with a plaintive stare. “I just keep thinking, why now? You know? Things were just starting to be different, and then this—”

  “What was different?”

  “Hansen and me. We were just starting to talk. Really talk, I mean. I felt like we were working toward something more. I don’t know.”

  Regan filled in the blanks. “You guys aren’t close?”

  Mel wrapped her arms around her knees, still holding her beer. “We never had been. Until recently. I told him about you.”

  She told him about me? “You did?”

  “Yeah. And the bastard was just starting to give me all this sage wisdom about women, and now…” She left her thought unfinished.

  Sage wisdom? Rather than ask, she took Mel’s hand and played with long tan fingers. “Things can still be different. How serious is it?”

  Mel cast a faraway look at the wall. “They’re not sure yet.” She took another long pull of her beer, nearly emptying the bottle. “That…fucking…prick. That fucking asshole shot Hansen in the goddamned throat, and he just lay there bleeding…he was awake, but he just kept bleeding, and I had my hands over his throat…” She choked on a sudden sob, and turned her face away. “I don’t know what any of us can take from this. I don’t know what Annie Hansen will take from this if he—God, if Hansen fucking dies—”

  “He’s not going to die.” You could have died, and I’ve only just found you. Regan took Mel into her arms, pulling her close and squeezing her for all she was worth. “I’m so goddamn glad you’re okay.”

  Mel’s shoulders shook beneath Regan’s hands, and she began to weep in earnest, as if something had broken inside of her and wave after wave of carefully repressed feeling and anxiety was being violently unleashed. The outpouring of raw emotion overwhelmed Regan, and she held on to Mel, almost scared to let go. How can I care about her so much so soon? She kissed Mel’s forehead again, feeling her sobs begin to abate.

  Mel seemed content to remain in Regan’s embrace and made no move to leave. In time, after her breathing had stilled, she spoke again in a muffled voice. “You make me feel so safe.” A long pause. “No one has ever made me feel like that before. God. And I thought being shot at was scary.”

  The nervous honesty of her words touched Regan. Sensing the admission had not been easy to make, she said, “I’m not scary.”

  Mel withdrew slowly from the embrace and sat up, turning red-rimmed eyes to her. “But feeling this way is.”

  “You’re scared to feel safe?”

  “I’m scared of getting used to it, I guess. Of needing it.” Mel picked at the fingernails of one hand with the other. “I’m not sure if I can go back to where I was before, already, and I don’t know—”

  “Hey,” Regan interrupted. “Stop worrying so much about going back. I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me.”

  “Even if I’m fucked-up beyond your wildest dreams?”

  Regan managed a laugh at that. “You have no idea how wild my dreams are, Mel.”

  “Not that kind of wild,” Mel’s attempt at a smile quickly faded.

  “I’m serious,” Regan said. “We’re friends. Don’t worry about all the rest of it right now; that’ll work itself out. We’re friends, for as long as you want it.”

  Mel studied Regan with eyes made silver from the tears she’d shed. “Thank you. For everything. I’m so glad you were home.”

  “Me, too,” Regan whispered.

  “I just didn’t know what to do when Morales asked where he should drive me. I didn’t want to go home.” gray eyes pinned Regan with an intense gaze. “All I wanted was to be with you.”

  “For the record, all I wanted tonight was to be with you, too.”

  Mel lit up at her admission and, after a beat, leaned forward to press a chaste kiss on Regan’s lips. The kiss was friendly but brief, merely a moment of reconnection amidst the turbulence of the evening. It calmed Regan in a way that defied explanation.

  “I’m exhausted.” Mel leaned back against the arm of the couch. “Too exhausted to think any more, about anything.”

  “Do you want to go to bed?” The instant the question left her mouth, Regan blushed at the unintended suggestion in her words. “I mean, uh—”

  With sparkling eyes, Mel leaned forward and captured Regan’s mouth in a slow kiss. Regan let out a desperate moan into the joining of their mouths, closing her eyes in utter relief. She could have died tonight. She couldn’t stop thinking it, even as she stroked Mel’s tongue with her own and tried to memorize the sweet flavor of her mouth. But she didn’t. She’s all right, and she’s right here.

  Regan brought her hands up to grip Mel’s biceps. Her only desire was to affirm the solid presence of Mel beside her
, and so the kiss wasn’t about passion. It was about friendship and trust, and deep longing, and it left Regan staggered.

  “Wow,” she said when Mel pulled away.

  “Yeah. Wow.” Mel’s lips twitched into a little smile. “After a kiss like that, I suppose this is the part where I tell you that maybe I should go. Except it’s kind of late, I don’t have my bike, and I really, really don’t want to leave.”

  Regan ignored the nervous fluttering in her stomach. “Stay the night. Please.”

  Mel gave her a steady look. “I don’t think I could—”

  “I want to hold you tonight. Just sleep here with me tonight, okay?” Regan stood and pulled Mel to her feet. “Not that I don’t want to drag you into bed, you understand, for something other than sleeping. But that’s not a decision for tonight.” She led them to her bedroom.

  “I agree. Despite my almost…crippling interest,” Mel snaked an arm around Regan’s waist, and turned to look her up and down. “And I’m pretty sure I shouldn’t be having sexual thoughts about women in Fraggles T-shirts, anyway.”

  Regan nudged Mel with her shoulder, throwing her slightly off-balance. “Get used to it, sweetheart. I love this thing, and it’s not going anywhere.”

  “And since I’m not, either…”

  Regan tried to hide her smile at the tentative comment as she led Mel into the master bathroom. “Exactly.”

  Regan opened up her bathroom closet and found an extra toothbrush, still boxed, to give to Mel. Mel took it with a delighted smile.

  “I’ve never had a toothbrush at someone’s place before.”

  “Ah,” Regan said. “I’m your first?”

  Mel tipped her head. “I’m starting to think so, in more ways than one.”

  Just when I think I’m over the blushing. Regan watched Mel in the bathroom mirror, brushing her teeth in silence, then turned to the sink and busied her own toothbrush. How someone can make me so comfortable and so thrilled at the same time is beyond me.

  They stood next to one another and performed a bathroom routine that was surreal in its familiarity. It felt like they had been doing the same thing together for years. Regan caught Mel’s eyes in the mirror more than once, and they shared pleased looks with one another.