Copyright 2006 Penn O'Hara
T
Usual disclaimers apply.
A second chapter wasn't necessary but was added for the romantics out there, who might be interested in how Carolyn and Mike have mellowed from professional partners to personal ones. No drama, no conflict, no bodice-tearing…just mothering Logan.
oOo
Chapter Two
Opening the door to her apartment, Carolyn crossed the threshold and stood back, her hand on the door, watching worriedly as Logan limped past her.
"You weren't limping before, Mike," she said, chewing her lip.
He shrugged and immediately hissed a breath through his teeth. "Stiffness is startin' to set in."
"Maybe you should have stayed in the hospital after all."
He gave her a disbelieving look.
"Yeah, I know," she admitted, realizing her mistake. His stubbornness was one of the traits that made him the man he was. "Like there was a chance in hell we could have kept you there."
Following him down the hall, she was surprised to see him head for the couch. "You don't want to shower first?"
He lowered himself gingerly onto the pillows and Carolyn had to prevent herself from helping him, guessing he'd hate to be treated like an invalid.
"Nah," he said, grunting as he made himself comfortable. "I just wanna sit for a bit."
He seemed to favor his left side, so Carolyn joined him on his right, snuggling in gently, receptive to his mumbles when she leaned in on somewhere that hurt.
"You didn't even take off your coat," she pointed out.
"Now that I'm down, I'm not gettin' back up."
She took his hand and linked her fingers with his. "Is this the worst beating you've had?" she asked, stretching up to kiss his chin.
He shook his head. "In this one, I was able to fight back."
Carolyn wondered if he was referring to the beatings he took from his mother or some youthful fights in a gang. She could only guess, still knowing very little about his turbulent history.
Mike leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes. "I know how…Chanteuse felt now. Being ganged up on," he added hastily.
"Chanteuse?"
His face twisted with distaste. "The…drag queen some young punks were pickin' on. Part of the case."
Carolyn pursed her lips. 'You don't have much time for men who think they are women, do you?"
"I know where ya goin'…" he warned. "You agree with Wheeler, don't you? I'm some macho male chauvinist…"
"Hey, slow down." Carolyn sat up to scrutinize him more closely. "There's more to you than that. You flaunt your masculinity, yes, but I can live with that. It's who you are. You temper that with your fight for the underdog and there's a softer side to you that only the privileged get to see." She ran her hand up his chest, stroking him through the white tee-shirt. Careful to go gently, she fought the urge to explore the warmth beneath her fingertips more thoroughly.
"I still don't know how that fight went down," she said, "but Wheeler–"
"–did the right thing." He shifted uncomfortably and Carolyn wondered if it were his injuries or the argument that pained him. "Others may have joined the fray," he said, "and got badly injured themselves. You might have been one of them, and then…then I'd be mad. I'm not mad at Wheeler."
"Then I get the privilege of being angry for both of us."
He grinned down at her. "You don't like her 'cos she's my partner and she's a woman, right? Go on, admit it."
Carolyn banked the curl of jealousy he'd guessed at and hid it behind annoyance that she'd been caught out.
"I admit nothing. Instead, I'll go rustle up something for you to eat, then we shower. I want to see the full extent of those injuries before I let you go back to work tomorrow."
She pushed herself from the couch and leant over him to kiss his eyelids shut. "Rest. I won't be long."
Carolyn changed out of her daytime suit into a clinging shift of olive green stretch cotton threaded with gold and hung by spaghetti shoulder straps. She knew she looked good in it – Mike had already told her so and shown her how much he appreciated the sight of her in it. She didn't necessarily want to awaken his interest tonight, but his reactions to how she looked always made her feel feminine and attractive.
Checking on him on the way to the kitchen, she saw he hadn't moved, his eyes closed, breathing regular, looking comfortable despite dozing upright. She smiled and continued onto the kitchen and set about making a spicy omelet burdened by chopped meats and vegetables. She doubted if his jaw would make it through a steak after taking a few punches.
After preparing a tray with cutlery and plates, beer cooler and wine glass, Carolyn collected her briefcase and sat down at the battered and grooved hardwood kitchen table. While the omelet was cooking gently, she pulled out a thick file and spread it open on the table's surface.
Scanning the pages, her eyes widened, lips parting as her interest was grabbed to the exclusion of all else. She flipped the pages over slowly, brow furrowed by what she read.
"Whatcha readin', babe?" Mike asked, running his hands down her sides. Carolyn jumped and gasped.
"I thought you were resting," she breathed, her heart thumping in her chest.
"I got lonely. What is it?"
"A detective's personnel file. One of the thickest I've ever seen."
"Yeah? No kidding! He's been a naughty boy?" Logan gave it a cursory glance before his mouth zeroed in on her neck, lips teasing and causing Carolyn to shiver. "It looks thicker than mine," he said, his voice muffled against her skin. "He's been a very naughty boy."
"Mike, lower," Carolyn purred. "That's nice. Hmmm. Well, actually, it is yours. I pulled it today for some night-time reading."
"Shit!" He pulled back sharply. "You kiddin' me?"
"Not at all. The Chief gave it to me to return to records and I couldn't resist. I brought it home instead."
"You don't wanna be readin' that," Logan said, smoothing his hair back with the palm of his hand.
"Yes, I do. It's very enlightening. And amongst the tidbits on offer in here, not counting the attack on the councilman for which you are infamous, there's an entry from a court proceeding which reads thus…" She flipped back a few sheets, scanning the pages for what she'd seen earlier.
"…'they locked me up and that Logan dude hauled my ass against a desk and stuffed a 'burger down my throat, your Honor'." Carolyn looked up at him. "Interesting interrogation technique, Mike."
"Shit, I don't even remember the half of it. What do you wanna bring that stuff up for?"
"Just wanted to see the sort of man I'm living with," she quipped. "You ashamed of what's in there?"
"Nah! Knock yourself out." His hands snaked down her sides. "You're gonna be shocked."
"I already have been. Does it get better?"
He peered at the still open personnel file. "You're only a third of the way through. I can't say I learnt much from my earlier mistakes."
Carolyn laughed and stood to check the cooking omelet. After turning it, she ran her eye over him. He'd divested himself of his coat and was looking casual and disheveled again in his white tee and dark trousers.
"I was going to hand-feed you on the couch, but now that you've made the effort…" She waved her hand toward the nearest chair. "Take a seat and I'll do it here."
"Like last time?" he asked hopefully, flipping the wooden chair around and carefully straddling it.
Carolyn's smile widened. They'd already broken in the kitchen table and at her instigation, not his. Plain flour, cooking wine and chocolate topping provided some interesting textures.
"No, not like last time," she said. "I don't want to add any more bruises."
"Hey, I don't blame you for me falling off the table that time," he said, leaning his elbows on the chair's back and staring at her across the width of the table. "I was the one that got carried away."
Carolyn grinned as she scraped the omelet onto one of the plates and pushed it across to him. She gave him a fork and an arch look. She wasn't going to let him know that she was secretly amused he was a rough and tumble kind of guy. To keep him in check, he needed to think she was too mature to be taken in by his antics.
Grabbing some cutlery for herself, Carolyn brought her chair close to his so that they were sitting thigh to thigh. Stabbing a piece of his egg with her fork, she popped it into her mouth and placed her head on his shoulder, chewing slowly.
"I miss you, you know," she said. "Not being with you all day."
"The transfer was your idea. I never went along with it from the start."
"I know. And I don't regret it. I still feel it's better this way, but…that doesn't stop me from missing you." She leaned across him for another piece of his omelet. "It's not so bad, is it? Giving up your independence to be with me? I know I kind of browbeat you into it–"
He turned his head, his eyes piercing her soul. "Remember what you said to Wheeler? Nobody can make me do something I don't want to."
She sighed. "Yeah, I said that, didn't I? I guess I'm just clamoring for reassurance."
"According to that file," Logan swept a hand toward the scattered papers, "you're the one taking the risk, not me."
"You're worth it, Mike." She fed him the next piece of egg on her fork. "I have to wonder what's ahead of us though. I'm ready to settle down, while you…you don't know what it's like and probably can't contemplate it, but–"
"Hey, one day at a time, okay? That's what we agreed on."
"I know."
Carolyn was glad he couldn't read her mind. If he even got a hint that she was thinking about little Mikes and Carolyns, she was sure he'd start running now. She repressed the thought, intuitively knowing that was a long time down the track, and finished the meal in silence, belatedly serving the wine and beer.
"Leave the dishes," she told him when he headed for the sink with his plate. "Bring your beer with you. I'm going to run the shower. It's time I saw the damage."
Damage was the right word. When she got him into the bathroom and peeled up his tee-shirt, she had to bite back her gasp at the bruising around his ribs and red and purpling patches on his stomach and sides. It was probably Carolyn's shocked imagination, but below his left ribs, there even seemed to be an impression of a closed fist and knuckles. Helping him off with his trousers and boxers, she saw that his hips and legs hadn't fared any better, the bruises against the bones there, dark and spreading.
"Oh, Mike," she breathed, shocked and sickened by what she saw. "They used their boots on you too?"
He made a face. "When a man's down and too low for your fists, I guess the feet are just as useful."
"That's criminal! What got into these guys? Do I need to look at your back?"
He turned round and the same story was there. Bruises and mottled patches marring his smooth back, spreading below his waist and onto his flanks. Carolyn's head was shaking in disbelief.
"You've got to prosecute, Mike. They can't get away with that."
Mike was shaking his head now. "No."
"But–"
"No." He turned back to her, his eyes determined. "I could've stepped back and stayed away, but I got back in Charlie's face 'cos that's what I do, and I got what I asked for."
"No. You might have deserved the knock-down, and I'm still not convinced about that either, but to kick a man when he's down…? No, you didn't ask for that."
Mike stepped up to her and rolled the straps of her dress from her shoulders. "You giving me this shower or not, 'cos I'm getting cold standing here in the raw," he said, his grin lopsided.
Carolyn hesitated, then sighed dramatically, recognizing Mike's way of ending a conversation he didn't want to pursue. "If I must." She leaned into the shower to manipulate the flow and heat of the water and wriggled when she felt some manipulative hands on her rear.
"Don't bother getting frisky, Mike," she warned. "You're showering, then I'm tucking you in bed and all you're getting is a bedtime story."
"Just so long as it's X-rated."
"Hon, you are incorrigible."
Carolyn turned back to him and lightly draped her arms around his neck, taking care not to press on any bruises. She tipped her head and his descended toward her, his mouth finding and claiming her lips. Carolyn yearned to mold herself to him, but mindful of his injuries, held herself back. Her care was negated by his scooping her to him, and bending her back against his arm. His hand threaded itself through her hair, releasing its length from the French knot and pulling her head back to expose her throat to his marauding lips.
"Mike, be care–"
Her words were lost under his mouth, his injuries forgotten as passion ignited and consumed her.
oOo