“Dr. Sharpe mentioned she was going to be there tonight,” her mom said.
“Why?” Emerson asked.
“Her nephew is being honored,” her dad replied.
Emerson didn’t know their therapist had lost someone in the line of duty.
“We love you, honey,” her dad said. “And we’re proud of you for going.”
“Love you guys.” Emerson hung up and read the text from Captain Perry.
“Please find me when you arrive.”
Forcing down a plethora of emotions, Emerson followed the signs toward King Ballroom. Tonight’s event honored officers who had been slain in the line of duty the previous year. The gala paid tribute while also helping to raise money for their families. Her brother should have been one of the honorees, but the department had refused her repeated requests.
Despite Doug Easton’s twelve years of service, including the last four where he served as an undercover officer, Doug was not being remembered as a hero. He wasn’t being remembered at all. Never mind that he’d put his life on the line to infiltrate a dangerous Northern Virginia drug gang and that he was close to making an arrest before his death.
It was as if her brother had never existed at all.
The coroner’s report listed his death as a drug overdose, a lethal combination of heroin and fentanyl. The Eastons had refused to believe he was using, so Emerson had pushed for more answers.
A detective had been assigned to investigate Doug’s death, but he’d gotten nowhere, so the case was labeled an accidental overdose. The world went on, but for Emerson and her parents, they lived in a hazy, gray limbo.
The past several months had been rough. Emerson wasn’t just mourning the loss of a beloved brother, she was angry at the world. Justice had not been served. On more than one occasion, Emerson had considered taking matters into her own hands, but she was smart enough to know that trying to make inroads into a drug gang was dangerous, especially on her own.
Immediately following Doug’s passing, her mom had wanted Emerson to change careers, fearing something would happen to her, too. With the help of a family therapist, the Eastons were treading water, at least on the outside, but for Emerson, she was submerged in sadness and anger. For as long as she lived, she would never believe her brother had died from a self-administered drug overdose.
As she rounded the corner en route to King Ballroom, she spotted Captain Perry and her husband in front of the closed ballroom doors talking with her therapist, Dr. Heather Sharpe, and a man Emerson assumed was Heather’s husband. Then, her brain froze and her body warmed. It was Stryker.No way. That man is everywhere.
The captain looked over and smiled.
Stryker turned. He gave her the once-over slowly, and a shadow darkened his eyes. She loved that he was checking her out. He’d had every opportunity to take her to bed last night, but he didn’t.Too late, buddy. Not happening now.
He’d left his hair down, the long strands framing his handsome face. Then, she stole a glance at his duds. The man was rocking a dark suit, starched white dress shirt, and a bright red power tie. His bulging muscles stretched against the fabric.My God, he’s hot.
The captain broke away from the group. “Hello, Emerson. Doing okay tonight?”
Of course not.“Yes, Captain.”
“Call me Tiana in social settings.” She offered a warm smile. “I’m hoping you can help me with something.”
I don’t even want to be here and now I have to work the event?
“I’d like you to host our guest of honor.”
Hoping it would take her mind off her frustration, Emerson nodded. “Okay.”
An officer from the department interrupted their conversation. Tiana excused herself and hurried off with him into the ballroom.
So, who’s the guest of honor?
Several officers were handing out programs and Emerson snagged one, then skimmed until she found what she was looking for.This can’t be happening.
The Civilian of Honor was Stryker Truman.
“Detective.” Stryker’s ravenous gaze set her body on fire while her heart rate jumped into the triple digits.
Their connection was immediate and intense. As she soaked up his rugged beauty, she felt an overwhelming urge to touch him. She resisted the desire to trail her fingers down his arm and stroke those hard muscles beneath his suit. Every cell in her body wanted him. Every fiber in her being needed him.