I have recently started watching Blue Bloods and find I really like the show and the family dynamics it portrays and my mind quickly started coming up with ideas. I've now gotten this first section written and would love to see what people think about it.
Trigger warning: Mention of 9/11 and pregnancy loss
Pick Up on Aisle 10
He took a seat in the padded chair, watching her as she settled herself onto the sofa across from him.
She was even prettier than he remembered. Her blonde hair was once again pulled back in a braid, her hand lifting to absentmindedly tuck a loose tendril behind her ear.
His own fingers twitched, remembering the silky feel of those strands against his skin, the soft citrusy scent filling his nostrils.
"Coffee?" he asked.
Her gaze lifted to meet his, the intense green once again holding his attention. She smiled slightly and shook her head as she went back to studying her hands, nervously worrying the handle of her bag.
"No, thank you."
"Tea? Water? Anything?"
Another head shake
"I'm fine," she assured him.
He continued to watch her. She was clearly nervous, struggling to find the right words, and he took a deep breath, trying to feed a calm energy into the room.
He should have called her. Should have gotten her number. That had been his plan.
The flirting had felt easy and natural. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so comfortable with a woman on a personal level. She was a good listener, easy to talk to.
Then, he had gone and messed it up. Let his control slip, just for a few moments in time.
And the shame set in. The embarrassment.
Maybe this was his chance to apologize. To set things right.
To start over.
He cleared his throat.
Before he could speak, she took a deep breath and straightened her spine. Her gaze once again met his. He could see the determination on her face.
"First of all, I want to be completely clear about something. This is for information only. I'm not demanding, wanting, or even expecting anything from you. I'm perfectly capable of handling this on my own."
He was confused, but her intensity drew a nod from him.
"Okay," he agreed, leaning forward, resting his hands on his knees.
After a pause, he decided to probe further.
"I have little doubt you can handle pretty much anything life throws at you, but I'm a bit curious as to exactly what we're talking about here."
She took another deep breath.
"I'm pregnant, Frank."
Frank Reagan stood looking out the office window, not really seeing the lights of the city below him. He wasn't sure how much time had passed.
The shocked silence after her announcement had stretched as he tried to process what she had said.
What she meant.
She didn't seem to have any idea of a follow up either. After a few minutes, she busied herself gathering her things and heading towards the office door. When she got there, she stopped and spoke without turning back
"I just thought you should know."
Without another word, she silently slipped out, pulling the door silently closed behind her.
He was sitting in the same position several minutes later when Baker poked her head in.
"Councilman Reynolds' office called to reschedule his meeting," she told him. "That leaves you about an hour until your next appointment."
When he didn't respond, she stepped further into the room.
"Sir?"
He started, finally turning to face her.
"I'm sorry, Abigail. My mind was…"
Her brow lifted in question.
"Elsewhere."
"I could see that. Anything I can do?"
He shook his head. "No. Nothing," he assured her. "Is my next appointment here?" he asked, glancing at his watch.
"No, Sir. The councilman has canceled due to a family issue and will reschedule when he can."
"That's fine," he told her, rising from his seat. He slid his hands in his pockets and turned towards the large window.
"In fact, can you clear my schedule for the rest of the day?"
She considered a moment, then nodded. "I can. There's nothing particularly urgent. I shouldn't have a problem rescheduling."
"Thank you."
Swallowing the question she wanted to ask, the pulled the door closed, leaving him again alone with his thoughts.
And the bombshell Lucy Makenna had dropped.
It happened a couple of months back.
After a late meeting, he had his detail driver stop at an all-night diner so he could grab some dinner, figuring Pops had long since eaten and probably turned in for the night.
When he finished and paid his tab, the other man walked him out to the vehicle, opening the rear door for the Police Commissioner to enter. Frank's attention was caught by the grocery store across the parking lot as he recalled using the last of the milk in his coffee that morning.
"One more quick stop. I'll be right back," he told the officer. He turned and headed across the dark lot towards the light of the sliding doors.
"Sir!"
"It's fine," Frank assured him. "I need to stretch my legs and it will only take a few minutes. It's after midnight, so I should be in and out in no time at all."
He noted a couple of cars in the store lot, taking particular notice of the classic Mustang parked under one of the brighter lights on the first row of the lot.
The older man at the front counter nodded as he entered.
"Milk?"
"Back wall," the man told him.
He grabbed what he needed from the cooler and started back towards the front. Pausing on the cookie aisle, he recalled Pops saying something about being low on the type he liked for his afternoon snack.
As he studied the shelves to find the right ones, he heard the sound of someone clearing their throat.
He turned to find a woman standing at the end of the aisle. She was small, maybe a bit over 5 feet tall.
She was dressed in pale blue scrubs, a red shopping basket in her hands. The strap of a purse crossed her chest. Her hair was pulled back, but a blond braid hung over her shoulder. He guessed her to probably be in her early to mid thirties.
"Excuse me," she said, her voice a pleasant alto.
He looked around, seeing no one else in the aisle. Pointing to himself, he raised an eyebrow, a questioning look on his face.
"Yeah," she replied. "You. With the…tall…and the nice smile and the cute dimple…and the legendary mustache," she continued, using her hand to indicate the attributes as she spoke.
He laughed, reaching up to stroke the mustache in question. "Legendary, huh?"
She dropped her head, then raised it again, shaking it slightly as a blush stained her cheeks.
"I'm sorry. Never mind."
Turning, she quickly walked away.
After a moment, he grabbed the cookies and headed to the end of the aisle, peeking down the next to see her standing in front of the bread, her head in her hand.
"Did you need something?" he asked gently, moving towards her.
She looked up, her blush deepening.
Up close, he could see he could see wisps of blond hair framing her face. A few fine lines around brilliant green eyes had him revising his estimate of her age upward by a few years.
"I'm so sorry," she told him. "I should not have said any of that."
He made a sad face.
"So, you didn't mean it? You don't think I have a nice smile? Cute dimples? Legendary mustache?"
"And the tall," she added with a laugh.
"Ah, yes, The tall."
She grinned at him. "It's actually 'the tall' that I was interested in."
"But the rest? You think?"
Rolling her eyes, she sighed.
"Okay. Yes, I do think you have a nice smile and cute dimples."
"And?"
"And a very nice mustache."
"Legendary?"
"Yes, a legendary mustache."
"Thank you," he told her, flashing his dimple.
"I just shouldn't have said any of that out loud. It's not exactly the appropriate sort of thing to say to a stranger. In my defense, I just finished up a 14 hour shift in the ER and the filters between the brain and the mouth don't work so well when I'm tired."
"Understood," he told her. "That's a long day."
"It was. I just hope you'll forgive me."
"All is forgiven," he replied. "If you don't mind me mentioning that you also have a nice smile and cute dimples."
"But no mustache, thankfully," she laughed.
"No, no mustache."
Laughing, he offered his hand.
"Frank Reagan."
"Lucy Makenna," she told him, placing her hand in his.
Even though her hand felt small and delicate in his, her grip was firm and businesslike, the contact lasting perhaps a moment too long.
"What did you need?" he finally asked.
"What?"
"My tall?"
"Oh. Yeah." She pulled her hand away. "Bread."
He looked slightly confused.
She pointed to the top shelf. "That brown sugar cinnamon swirl one. It makes the best french toast."
As he was reaching up to grab the loaf, they both jumped at the sound of yelling up by the front door.
Lucy dropped her basket as Frank pulled her down to a squat. He leaned close to whisper in her ear.
"You have a cell phone?"
She nodded, already reaching into her bag to pull it out.
"Find the back exit and call 911," he told her, pushing her towards the back of the store.
Before either could move further, a young man ran past the end of the aisle, sliding to a stop and backtracking when he saw them. He quickly headed towards them, gun drawn. He gestured for them to stand up.
Frank noticed Lucy surreptitiously slip her phone into the pocket of her scrub top before raising her hands.
"Hurry up, Body!" a voice called from the front. "Chains needs those bandages now!"
"Found something even better than bandages, T-Man," he called back. "Found us a nurse lady."
"Doctor, actually," she muttered under the breath.
"Great. Get her up here."
'Hands up," Body directed Frank, noticing his hand moving. Fortunately, the gunman didn't bother checking under his coat to discover the weapon the commissioner had been reaching for. The older man was weighing the odds of trying for it when Body grabbed Lucy by the arm and started pulling her towards the front.
"Move it, old man," he was told, the other man gesturing for him to precede them. He smiled slightly at her as he walked past, trying to offer some reassurance and determined to watch for an opportunity to act without risking her safety.
At the front, two other men waited, raising their weapons when the trio came into the area. One of them approached, studying Lucy closely.
"Need you to come with us, Nurse Lady," he told her, pointing his gut at her face.
She drew herself to her full height and looked him square in the eyes.
"I'm not going anywhere with you."
He seemed confused by her refusal and stepped closer.
"I said, you need to come with us."
"And I said 'no'," she repeated.
Another thug came through the door.
"He's bad, T. What's taking so long?"
"What's going on?" Frank asked. "Why do you need her?"
The one called T glared at him a moment before answering.
"Our buddy got himself shot. He's bleeding bad. She needs to patch him up."
"If he got shot, you need to get him to the hospital," she urged.
"No hospital," T told her. "You need to come out there and patch him up," he ordered, pointing towards the car idling in the firelane.
Frank looked out also, noticing his ride sitting out in the lot. He chastised himself for insisting on running the errand without his protective detail, but no matter how discreet they were, he was always aware of their presence.
And sometimes, he just wanted to be alone.
Even though the odds were very much against anything happening in the few minutes, this time the odds had clearly not been in his favor.
He knew Nuciforo would be royally pissed at him.
"Where's the clerk?" he asked, suddenly recalling the older man who had greeted him when he entered.
"Don't worry. He's just taking a nap," one of the men told him, pointing towards a prone figure behind the counter.
Lucy hurried over to check on him, relieved to discover he was still breathing and had a strong, steady pulse. As she started to reposition him, T grabbed her, pulling her away.
"Don't worry about him," he told her.
"But I am," she responded. "He needs to be on his side in recovery position. That way if he throws up, he won't choke on it."
"You'd be responsible for his death," Frank told him.
"Fine. But be quick about it."
Frank moved to help her situate the unconscious man. As he did, he leaned close.
"911?"
"Hope it went through," she whispered back. "Got it on mute."
"Shut up and come on," T yelled, swinging his gun towards them again. He nodded at one of the other men, who grabbed her by the arm and pulled her to her feet. Another man put a hand on Frank's shoulder to prevent him from doing the same.
"I told you I'm not going anywhere with you," she repeated.
"He's in bad shape, lady. He needs your help. Don't you take some kind of oath that you've gotta help people who need it?"
She put her hands on her hips. "Let me get this straight. Your buddy got shot, probably due to some illegal activity. You won't go to the hospital. Instead, you expect me to patch him up by myself, without supplies or equipment, in the cold and dark, stuffed in the backseat of your car. Do I have all the facts right?"
T looked slightly uncomfortable, but nodded.
"And if I won't?"
He pointed his gun at her. "You die."
She snorted. "And that solves his problem, how?"
After a moment's thought, he swung the gun to point at Frank.
"Your boyfriend dies."
Sighing, she shook her head. "How about you bring him in here where I have space and light and I'll see what I can do."
He finally nodded and one of the guys went running back out to the car. Frank watched as another man got out and, together, the two of them removed someone from the backseat, one holding his arms, the other his legs.
Lucy knelt down and dumped her bag out, digging for something.
"What are you doing?"
She grabbed a zippered bag and pulled out a pair of gloves. As she pulled them on, she started calling out orders.
"I need some supplies. Bandages. Alcohol. Gauze pads. Whatever you can find in the first aid section that you think I can use."
One of the guys grabbed one of the shopping baskets and headed back into the store.
"And I'm going to need his help," she told T, pointing at Frank.
"He a doctor or something?"
"No," she replied, studying him for a second. "He's an accountant, but he's had a lot of first aid training."
When T nodded, Frank knelt next to her. He heard her curse softly under her breath when the injured man was brought inside. When he looked over, he could understand why.
The man had taken several gunshots, his shirt stained a deep red and a coppery scent filled the air. A trail of blood drops traced their path from the vehicle outside.
He was placed on the floor in front of her and she reached up to check his pulse. Frank felt her stiffen next to him and her quick glance confirmed his suspicion that the man was beyond help.
"You can help him?"
"I'll try, but"
"You will help him," T interrupted, his gun swinging back to her face.
The tense moment was broken when the man with the basket of supplies returned. He dumped everything out and watched her dig through them..
"Scissors."
"I didn't get any scissors. You didn't say scissors."
"Look behind the counter," Frank ordered.
Brody ducked behind the counter and came up with the item. He rushed over to hand them to her.
As she started cutting his shirt opened, she directed Frank to open gauze pads and pour alcohol on them. He handed one to her and she started cleaning the blood. He counted three gunshot wounds, two to the chest and one to the abdomen. The pads were soaking through as quickly as he could hand her a new one.
"Maxi pads," she ordered.
"What?"
She looked up at Body. "Maxi pads. Like a woman uses for her period."
He still looked confused.
"They're designed to absorb blood. And some tweezers, too."
"Go!" T ordered.
Two of the thugs ran off in search of her supplier.
"How long is this going to take?" T asked. "You just gotta get the bullets out and sew him up, right?"
"Right. I'll need a needle and thread, too."
T nodded to another man. "Go."
"Where?"
"They gotta have sewing stuff here somewhere. Find it."
"What kind of pads?"
"Thick ones," she called back.
"There's so many."
"Welcome to my world," she muttered, then called out loudly "Overnight extra long super plus."
A flash of movement outside caught Frank's attention. He continued watching out of the corner of his eye as several figures in black moved into position.
"What color of thread?"
"You choose," she replied.
"Just hurry up," the leader yelled impatiently.
Lucy glared up at him. "Forgive me if I'm a bit out of sorts. Being held hostage with two other people, including the unconscious guy behind the counter by 5 armed men and being expected to patch up a bunch of gunshots on another guy is not something I deal with on a regular basis."
Frank nodded approvingly, noticing how she managed to convey information about their situation to the operator on the other end of the 911 call.
"Did you want the ones with wings? You didn't say, but I figured the wings make 'em bigger, right?"
"Good thinking. Open them up and hand me one."
"Um. Maybe your boyfriend should do that," the guy said, offering the package to Frank.
She glanced up from busily prodding one of the bullet wounds, then looked at him. He took the package, putting it in his lap to cover his movements as he unbuttoned his jacket to more easily access his gun.
He caught her gaze, then quickly looked toward the window where he glimpsed the SWAT officers taking positions.
When the doors banged open, the gunmen turned towards the noise. Frank and Lucy both took advantage of the temporary distraction, him to draw his own weapon and her to scoot behind the protection of a nearby drink cooler.
The officers came in fast and loud.
"Drop your weapons! On your knees! Hands behind your head!"
After a moment of frozen hesitation, the other four did so. T, the gang leader, turned to site on his two hostages.
Only to find himself facing the barrel of Frank Reagan's gun.
"Drop it, T."
He looked around to notice several of the other team members also pointing weapons in his direction. He considered his chances for a few tense seconds, then did as ordered.
With a sigh of relief, Frank engaged the safety and slipped his gun back in the holster as T was cuffed and frisked.
His security officer joined him.
"Are you alright, Commissioner?"
Nodding that he was, he stepped around the cooler to find Lucy curled up, head on her knees with her arms wrapped tightly around herself.
He squatted in front of her and called her name softly as he reached out to touch her hand.
"It's okay, Lucy. It's over."
She looked up, took a deep, shaky breath, and nodded. He stood, then offered a hand to help her do likewise.
"Everyone is okay? I didn't hear any shots," she asked.
"Everyone is okay," he affirmed.
"The clerk," she said, hurrying over to where the man had been lying. He was starting to come around and an officer was urging him to stay still until the ambulance arrived. She joined them quietly speaking to him as she checked his pulse and felt the knot on the back of his head. When the paramedics arrived, she spoke to them briefly before they started to load him in the stretcher.
"Hey, what about Chains?" T called. "You can't just let him die!"
Lucy crossed over to kneel next to the body. She straightened the crucifix hanging around his neck and whispered a quick prayer before rising.
"He's already gone. He was gone before you even got him in here," she confessed. "I'm sorry."
His head drooped and he muttered a curse as he was raised to his feet and marched over to join the others.
Frank rested a comforting hand on her shoulder for a moment before muttering a curse himself At her curious glance, he pointed to two men in a heated conversation.
"That's Nuciforo. He's the head of my security detail. I kind of told the guy who's on duty tonight to leave me on my own, that I just needed to make a quick stop in here and everything would be fine."
"And it wasn't and now he's in trouble," she concluded. "As are you," she added when she saw him heading in their direction.
Frank held his hand up placatingly. "Entirely my fault, Jim. I told him to wait in the vehicle, that I would be fine. He was just doing what I told him to do."
"His job is to keep you safe, not to let you do stupid things just because you want to," the other man shot back.
"You know as well as I do that the odds are against anything happening."
"With all due respect, Sir, something did happen. You need to let me and my men do our job, which is to protect you."
"You're right. I'm sorry."
The conversation was interrupted by the approach of the officer in charge of the operation.
He snapped off a smart salute.
"Sir!"
Frank returned the salute.
"Good work, Hamilton."
"Thank you." He glanced at Lucy. "Are you the one who made the 911 call, ma'am?"
"Oh. Yes," she confirmed, reaching to retrieve her phone from her scrub pocket. Noting that the call was still connected, she activated the speaker.
"Hello?"
"Hello. Is this Lucy Makenna?"
"It is."
"This is Janelle Foster with 911 dispatch. I wanted to make sure you're doing okay."
"I'm fine. Thank you. I wasn't even sure my call went through. I just dialed, hit 'mute' and dropped my phone in my pocket, hoping someone was on the other end."
"I was, and you did great. I could hear most of what was going on and you gave me important information that I could pass along to the officers on the scene."
After a few more minutes, they ended the call and the officer spoke up again hesitantly.
"Sir. Ma'am. We're going to need to get your statements, but we're kind of backed up at the moment and it might be a while until we can get someone free. Otherwise, you can come in to the station tomorrow to take care of it."
"I would really rather get this done as soon as possible," Lucy replied, looking up at Frank to see him nod his agreement.
"We can go grab some coffee at the diner while we wait," he suggested.
As they settled at a booth in the diner, Nuciforo watching from a nearby table, a tired looking server brought them a pot of coffee and cups. Frank thanked her, then turned his attention back to the woman sitting across the table from him. She was busily shredding a napkin, her gaze locked on the neat pile in front of her.
He reached over to rest his hand on hers and she looked up at him.
"Do I really look like an accountant?" he asked, sounding slightly insulted.
She laughed. "Actually, you strike me as law enforcement, but I didn't want to say anything in front of them. Police, I'm guessing?"
"Police commissioner, actually," he confessed.
With a nod, she returned her attention to the napkin.
"How are you holding up?"
She looked at his hands for a moment before pulling away.
"I'm fine," she assured him. "Processing things." She took a sip of her coffee and continued. "Have you called your wife to let her know what's going on? That you're okay?"
He looked down at his wedding ring, twisting it thoughtfully. "No. I wish I could, but my wife passed several years ago. I'm a widower."
Lucy let out a breath and nodded. "I didn't notice earlier, when I said all that stuff about your smile and dimples and stuff, because I hope that, even exhausted, I wouldn't have been so forward with a married man."
"And when you did notice it?"
"You didn't really strike me as the type of man who would act like that behind your wife's back. You seem like the type who takes his promises very seriously."
"I do. Especially that one. Mary was the love of my life."
"I'm so sorry. If you don't mind me asking, what took her from you?"
"Cancer."
"That sucks."
"Yes, it did. Does."
He gave her a curious look. "Interesting phrasing. 'What took her'?"
"Yeah. When my husband died, I found myself getting really irritated when people talked about me 'losing' him, as though he had slipped between the cushions of the sofa or something and that if I looked hard enough, I might find him again." She shrugged. "Silly, I know."
"Not at all," he reassured her. "So, what took your husband?"
"9/11."
"Oh."
"He was a patrol officer and that was part of his assignment. I'm sure you know the story. Most people ran away, he and his partner ran into it. They were in the south tower when it came down."
He sighed heavily and reached for her hand.
"I'm sorry."
She smiled her thanks and squeezed his hand, then cleared her throat.
"Kids?"
When he hesitated, she muttered a curse.
"Sorry."
He looked up.
"I recognize that pause. You're not quite sure how to answer because you've lost one."
Frank nodded. "My oldest, Joe. He was a cop, too. Killed in the line of duty during an undercover operation to flush out some bad cops."
He found himself proceeding to tell her about his family. About Pops, and about his children and grandchildren. About finding out about Joe Hill and the joy and the anger he felt about the discovery.
She listened attentively, nodding encouragement and refilling their coffee cups as time passed.
"What about you?" he asked. "You saying that you recognized the pause when you asked about my kids makes me wonder if your story has a pause like that."
"Sort of," she admitted. "You lost a grown child that you knew and had raised. We had a daughter who was stillborn at 26 weeks. I never got a chance to know her."
"But she still existed. And she still left a empty space in your life."
"That she did."
He looked up as several officers entered the diner.
"Are the two of you ready to give your statements now?"
They were led to separate tables where each gave their version of the night's events to an officer. Notes were made, questions asked and answered until there was nothing more to say.
After being asked to come to the station later to read and sign their statements, they were given permission to leave.
Frank led her to his SUV. "Let us give you a ride back to your car."
"Thanks, but that's not necessary. I can walk across the lot," she told him, pointing.
"Yes, you can, but Pops would have my head if I drove away and left a lady alone in the dark. And I don't think Jim here would let me walk you over there."
"Damn right," came a voice from behind him.
"So?"
"Fine. And thank you," she finally replied.
In less than a minute, they had stopped next to her car and Frank helped her out of the SUV. He gave the Mustang an admiring look.
"Nice car," he told her.
"My baby. 68 Cobra Shelby," she told him with a smile, reaching into her bag to dig out her keys. He noticed her sway slightly.
"Are you sure you're okay to drive?" he asked.
After a moment, she replied. "I was just wondering that myself. And I'm kind of thinking I should just call a cab."
"No need for that," he told her. "We'll be glad to give you a ride."
"I don't want you to go out of your way. I'm sure you're ready to get home and into your bed."
"It's not a problem," he assured her. "Right, Jim?"
In answer, the other man opened the back door and gestured for them to get in. "The officers will still be on scene for several more hours, so your car should be fine."
With a resigned sigh, she thanked him and climbed back in the vehicle, Frank sliding in next to her. She gave her address and leaned back, closing her eyes and lowering her head. He watched her nervously pulling at her braid, finally pulling the elastic off and working the strands loose from their confinement.
"How are you doing?" he asked quietly.
"Not sure, really," she admitted, running her fingers through her hair. "I guess the shock and adrenaline are starting to wear off and the nerves are kicking in a bit. All of the 'what might have happened' stuff."
"Having a gun pointed at you can do that," he said.
"Yeah. It's been a while since I looked down a barrel like that. I think I froze up a bit."
"A while?"
She looked over at him with a shrug. "My father was an alcoholic, abusive, sadistic bastard whose favorite toy was his service weapon. He liked to use it to remind me and my mother just how tough he was."
"Service weapon? Was he a cop?"
"He was."
"Is he still?"
"No. He died when I was 8. Fortunately."
Frank decided to return to the original subject.
"You did great though. You stayed calm."
She interjected a snort.
"Okay. You came across as calm. You acted to give the 911 operator information that could help, you refused to leave the premises, you bought time by looking like there was still a chance to save the guy, and you kept the others distracted by sending them off in search of supplies. I especially liked you telling him to get the maxi pads," he grinned.
She smiled a bit as well. "I love poking at their machismo."
After a moment, she spoke again. "You did pretty well yourself, Frank. Has anyone ever told you that you'd make a great surgical nurse?"
"No, I must admit, I've never been told that. Though after raising 4 fearless kids and spending a lot of time with 3 of their equally fearless offspring, I've done my share of cleaning and bandaging."
The rest of the ride was a more relaxed silence. He watched out of the corner of his eye as she continued idly playing with her hair. He noted the fresh, citrusy scent released when she did so.
When the vehicle pulled into her driveway, Nuciforo walked around to open the door. Frank slid out, then turned to help Lucy alight. He rested his hand on the small of her back as he walked her to the door.
As she dug her keys from her bag, he could hear her breathing becoming more ragged and he reached up to push her hair back so he could see her face.
"Lucy?"
She shook her head, refusing to look up at him as she fumbled to unlock the door. Pushing it open, she dropped her keys as she stepped over to disarm the alarm.
Frank bent to pick up the keys and watched in concern as she leaned in, resting her forehead against the wall as her shoulders began to shake. He stepped in, closing the door behind him and reached over to pull her into his arms.
"It's okay," he reassured her. "It's all over. You're safe."
He held her for several minutes as she sobbed, gently combing his fingers through her hair and making soothing sounds. As her sobs subsided, she reached to pull a tissue from a nearby box and dabbed at her face before looking up at him.
He used his thumb to wipe moisture from her cheeks, his eyes meeting hers. He found himself gazing deeply, seeing the hurt, the pain, the fear.
And need.
Neither could have said who moved first, but suddenly, their lips met, tongues exploring. Low moans of pleasure and desire escaped.
His hands went to her waist, slipping under her top to stroke the soft, warm skin of her sides. She pushed his overcoat off, then his suit jacket as the both slipped their shoes off. Her fingers made quick work of the buttons on his vest and it joined the pile behind him.
He started to pull her shirt over her head, then stopped and pulled back to look at her. Her eyes were dark with desire and he knew his matched, but he wanted to be sure she wanted this.
She raised her arms so he could finish removing the garment, then took him by the hand, leading him back to the bedroom, a trail of discarded clothing marking their path.
He eased onto the mattress beside her, already regretting that he had let things go so far so fast. That regret intensified when he looked over and noticed a tear running down her face.
He reached over to wipe it.
"I'm so sorry. Did I hurt you?"
She shook her head. "No, it's okay. It's just…it's been a long time."
Rolling over to face him, she continued. "You have to believe that I don't do this. I don't jump into bed with men that I've just met. Honestly, I haven't been with a man since Oscar died. I've barely even dated. This is completely not normal behavior for me."
He could see her eyes starting to fill with tears again and he hastened to reassure her.
"I wouldn't assume it was. Honestly, it's not for me, either. I've…dated…some since Mary, but not for several years. I think the last few hours have kind of thrown us both off balance. I won't judge if you won't judge."
She smiled and stuck out a hand.
"Deal."
An awkward silence set in and he cleared his throat.
"I suppose I should go," he told her, moving to swing his legs out from under the covers.
Chewing her bottom lip, she sat up. "Would you…"
"What?:
"Nothing. Never mind."
Her gaze dropped to her lap and he stopped his movement, turning to look at her.
"Would you like me to stay?"
After a pause, she nodded. "Please." She looked up. "I'm not ready to be alone again just yet."
Wordlessly, he laid back down, lifting his arm to invite her to lie next to him. She scooted close, draping her across his waist. Her eyes closed and he listened to the sound of her breathing falling into a sleepers rhythm and allowed himself to follow.
In the nightmare, the gang members hadn't been seeking help. They just came in and started shooting.
And his family was there.
Pops. Danny and his boys Erin and Nicky. Jamie and a clearly pregnant Eddie.
He called out, trying to warn them, but his gun wouldn't fire and he just kept watching as the people he loved fell, blood seeping from multiple wounds.
"It's okay," a soft voice assured him. "They're safe. No one is going to hurt them on your watch." He felt gentle fingers tracing comforting circles on his chest and the nightmare faded away.
He finally awoke several hours later to morning sunlight streaming in the bedroom window. The bed next to him was empty, but he could hear water running nearby.
It stopped a moment later and Lucy stepped into the room, tightening the belt of a fluffy sky blue robe. She noticed him watching her and gave him a shy smile.
"Bathroom's through there, if you need it," she told him.
"Thanks," he replied, slipping out of bed and donning his underwear before following her directions.
When he had finished, he returned to the bedroom to find that she had gathered his clothes and laid them out on the bed. He dressed quickly, leaving the top few buttons of his shirt undone. He slipped his vest on but didn't button it, stuffing his tie into his jacket pocket and folding that over his arm before walking down the hallway.
He found her at the counter in the bright, open kitchen.
"I can fix some breakfast, if you want," she told him.
He looked at the time. "Thanks, but I should probably head home. Pops is probably wondering where I am."
"How about coffee? I can put it in a go cup for you."
"That I will take you up on," he told her.
"And for your security guy? I assume he's still outside?"
"Yes, please. I'll offer it as a peace offering."
She got up and pulled out a couple of heavy duty paper cups and popped a pod in the coffee maker. While she waited, she turned to him.
"I really appreciate you staying with me last night."
"I was glad to."
"I've been on my own for a long time, but last night just got the better of me. I didn't want to be alone."
She filled one cup and snapped a lid on, then repeated the process.
"It's okay, Lucy. There's nothing wrong with needing someone. Needing comfort. Accepting it," he told her. "Is there someone you can call? Someone who can come be with you? Family? Friend?"
She shook her head as she prepared the second cup.
"Not really. Sadly lacking in both. Classic loner," she admitted. "But I'm alright now. Things look better in the daylight after a good night's sleep."
She followed him to the door, waiting as he shrugged his overcoat on, then handed him the two cups of coffee.
"Do you have to work today?" he asked.
"No. Thankfully, I have the next couple of days off to rest up."
"That's good. Be sure that you do."
He watched her for another moment, wanting to say so many things, but not really comfortable saying any of them.
"I should go," he finally said.
She tore her gaze away from his and reached to open the door. "Of course. Thank you again. For everything."
"You're welcome," he replied. He stepped outside, then turned back. "You can call the department and they can put you in touch with victim's services if you need anything."
Even though she nodded, he knew that she wouldn't.
"Or call my office if there's anything I can do for you."
"I will, she assured him,"
Nuciforo was waiting at the back door of the SUV, so Frank gave her a brief kiss on the forehead and headed over to his security head. He spoke to him briefly, handing him the coffee cup, then climbed in the back of the vehicle.
Jim nodded his thanks to Lucy as he went back around to the driver's seat of the transport.
Lucy watched them drive away, doubting she would see him again.
Until she got the shock of her life.
Please leave a review. I would love to know if you want more of Frank and Lucy's story.
