Page 17 of Protected from Malice
Rafe steps slightly in front of me. He sets his gun and knife on the coffee table.
Seconds later, four uniformed police officers come rushing inside, guns drawn and shouting.
Even though Rafe tried to prepare me, I didn’t expect this.
Harsh voices yelling at me. At Rafe. Ordering him to step away from me.
Telling us to freeze. Drop our weapons. Put our hands up.
Rationally, I know they’re here to help. That they don’t know we’re both innocent. That the criminal already left.
My brain gets it. But my body doesn’t understand.
Seeing the men pointing guns at us, shouting, their faces so angry…
And they want Rafe toleave.
To move away from me.
My anchor, the one person I can trust right now, gone.
My pulse speeds so quickly I’m lightheaded from it.
Waves of hot and cold rush through my body.
I know I’m shaking, but I can’t make myself stop.
“Rafe,” I hear myself begging. “Don’t leave.” To the police, I plead tearfully, “Rafe helped me. He protected me. He didn’t do anything wrong.”
Rafe’s hands are in the air, and if it were anyone else, it would make them seem harmless. But he still has an air of danger to him. A tension, like a spring close to snapping.
In a carefully calm voice, Rafe says, “I’m Rafe Castello. Eden is a close friend. I was on my way here when she called to say an intruder was breaking in.”
One of the police officers snaps, “You should have waited for the professionals to get here.” A beat, and then with a hint of skepticism, “Assumingyoudidn’t plan the whole thing.”
A muscle in Rafe’s jaw twitches. His eyes flare with anger. His shoulders set. But he doesn’t take the bait. Instead, hereplies, “Make some calls. I work for Black’s Bail Bonds. Out of Texas. They’ll vouch for me. Or?—”
He lifts his chin and gives the cop a defiant look. “Call Cole Mitchell. At Blade and Arrow Security. I served with him. Special Forces.”
One of the other officers asks, “You served? With the Blade and Arrow guys?”
Rafe nods. “I did. Out of Fort Campbell. A couple of the guys at the Texas branch were my teammates. And if you want someone else to talk to, call Cruz Livingston at the FBI office in San Antonio. I helped him with a job last year.”
The four officers glance at each other, exchanging loaded looks.
I hold my breath.
Then, in unison, they all lower their weapons.
The friendliest of the four—the one who asked about Blade and Arrow—lifts his chin at Rafe. “Coming in like this, seeing you next to her, you know we had to assume?—”
“I know.” Rafe takes a quick sidestep towards me and wraps his arm around my waist.
The relief is so great, it’s all I can do not to burst into tears again.
“The intruder went out the back door,” Rafe explains briskly. “I didn’t see him, but I heard the back door open. I’m sure he heard my car, and I had to break the door to get in.” His jaw clenches. “I couldn’t go after him. Eden was my priority.”
“Of course,” one of the other officers says. His gaze darts to the kicked-in front door and admiration flares in his eyes. “Making sure she was safe was the most important thing.”
