Broken Wings Read online

  Copyright

  Published by

  Dreamspinner Press

  4760 Preston Road

  Suite 244-149

  Frisco, TX 75034

  http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Broken Wings

  Copyright © 2011 by Bethany Brown and Ashlyn Kane

  Cover Art by Reese Dante http://www.reesedante.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 4760 Preston Road, Suite 244-149, Frisco, TX 75034

  http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

  ISBN: 978-1-61581-970-6

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Edition

  April 2011

  eBook edition available

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-61581-971-3

  Dedication

  To Leslie, for putting up with me while vacationing in England. Thanks for showing me all the wonderful sights and almost killing me with a surfboard. I hope I didn’t put you off of vacationing with me again.

  Author’s Note

  THIS is just a small note to clear up some timeline questions that may appear during this novel. The first part of this book takes place immediately following Patrick’s departure in Wild Angels, but before the events in the epilogue. What we wanted was for the first part of this story to be what happens to make Patrick decide on his actions in the epilogue of Wild Angels and then to continue the story from that part. The epilogue itself will be repeated at some point in this novel.

  Thank you for taking the time to read this small note. We hope you enjoy the novel.

  —Bethany and Ashlyn

  Prologue

  STEPPING off of the plane in Ontario was the second hardest thing he had ever done in his life. The first had been getting on the plane to start with. He could have been curled up around the man of his dreams. Instead, he was standing in a busy airport hoping that no one had remembered to pick him up so he could just go straight home. And possibly drink away his pain. Unfortunately, it seemed as though fate was against him.

  She was easy to spot in the airport arrivals lounge. She was the only one in leather with visible tattoos. Her red hair was in two braids that hung down over her shoulders. There were several airport security officers looking at her. It seemed as though they weren’t sure what to think. She really did look like the type to make trouble. She blew one a kiss as he walked closer. The unfortunate security officer actually blushed.

  He shook his head as she motioned to the suitcase by her feet. He had no idea how she had managed to get his suitcase, but he was grateful. It meant that he would be able to get home sooner. All he had to do was to convince her that he was too tired to have a visit.

  The convincing didn’t take as long as he had thought it would. Apparently, he looked as bad as he felt. She drove him home and made him promise to call later before she left. Entering his empty house, he was suddenly aware of how lonely it seemed. His entire life was empty. There was nothing in it. He had left his heart in Alberta. With a sigh, he reached into his pocket and pulled out what he had purchased at the airport in Alberta.

  Sinking into his favorite chair, Detective Patrick Hawkins lit up the first cigarette from the first new package he had purchased in three years. Inhaling the smoke, he felt the first bite of nicotine enter his system. He hoped that it would help to dull the pain of his broken heart.

  Chapter 1

  THE rhythmic sound of the weights being lifted and settled once again was a familiar and soothing sound to Patrick. Chatter from the other cops faded into background noise as he continued doing sit-ups on the floor. It was a familiar routine, and Patrick easily settled into his own headspace. He was so focused on what he was doing that he didn’t realize that someone wanted his attention until a wet nose pressed against his cheek. Patrick turned his head to one side and found himself staring into the brown eyes of a German Shepherd. The dog licked his cheek.

  “Hey there, Bingo. Where’s your person?”

  “Standing right over here,” a deep voice remarked. Patrick turned his head to the other side and looked up. Way up.

  Sergeant Bryce MacDonald of the K-9 unit was standing next to him. His large, muscled frame was encased in a department T-shirt and sweats, both of which were straining at the seams. His red hair was neatly trimmed, but that didn’t stop bits of it from falling into his hazel eyes. There were freckles on his face, but his large size kept people from teasing him. Bryce was one of the sweetest guys Patrick had ever met, but he had seen him toss a suspect into a car with just one hand. It was a sight that he would never forget.

  “Hey, Bryce, good to see you.”

  “You too. You’re looking better.”

  Patrick hoisted himself into a sitting position. Bingo dropped down next to him and put her head in his lap. He reached out and absently scratched her ears. “I’m feeling better. Doesn’t hurt to move anymore.”

  “That’s good. I missed seeing you around here.” Bryce dropped himself onto the ground next to Patrick. “It was too quiet without you here.”

  Patrick laughed. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever been told that. Usually people can’t wait to tell me to shut up.” Feeling a lick to his hand, Patrick resumed the scratching that he had stopped. “I see that you have Bingo back.”

  Bryce sighed, and his eyes lost some of their happiness. “I need to find a new home for her.”

  “What? Why?”

  “We just came from the vet. Her hip is too messed up to keep her on active duty. Doc’s worried that if someone were to take a shot at her, the hip would come out of joint again. So if she can’t be on active duty, I need a new dog, and I can’t keep her at home when I get a new one. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them.”

  “That sucks.” Patrick looked down into the trusting doggie eyes in his lap. Poor dog, being abandoned, even if Bryce didn’t mean it. Staring at Bingo, Patrick felt a sudden sense of kinship. Oh my God, I’m identifying with a dog. “I’ll take her.”

  “What?”

  Patrick turned his attention from Bingo back to Bryce. “I said that I’ll take her. You know how much I like her, and she seems to like me.”

  “Like you? Shit, Pat, that dog fucking loves you. Sometimes I think she likes you more than she likes me.” Bryce looked pointedly at where Bingo had her head in Patrick’s lap instead of his.

  “She has good taste.” Patrick leaned down and gave Bingo a good rub. She lifted her head and licked his chin. He smirked at Bryce over Bingo’s head.

  “She’s barking up the wrong tree. I happen to know that you aren’t a ladies’ man,” Bryce commented. His comment turned Patrick’s smirk into a rather dirty leer. Bryce had once walked in on him and Keith when they had still been dating. It had made for a very awkward introduction for Keith. Bryce had blushed almost the same color as his hair, and Patrick hadn’t been that far behind him.

  “Hey, don’t pick on Bingo. She happens to be one of my favorite ladies.”

  “Let me guess, because unlike Justine, she doesn’t talk back?”

  “Don’t let Justine hear you say that.” Patrick flashed Bryce something that felt more like his usual grin. He knew it was at least better than the look he had been sporting when Bryce had f
irst arrived. Patrick didn’t want everyone to know exactly how depressed he was.

  Bryce raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Hey, I never said that out loud. That partner of yours scares me.” Bryce lowered his arms back to his lap. “So, when did you get back into town?”

  Patrick sighed as all of the happiness that he had been feeling fled. “Yesterday.”

  “Are you sure that your shoulder is up to what you’re putting it through?” Bryce shifted so he was leaning comfortably against the wall. “It still looks a little tender.”

  “You should have seen it before. It looks a whole hell of a lot better now. I had a good physiotherapist while I was away.”

  “That’s good. Although I’m kind of concerned that you said it looked worse. You really should take better care of yourself.”

  “Yeah.” Patrick could hear the dejected tone to his voice. He was hoping that Bryce would at least avoid the hard questions. He knew that the moment his friends got him cornered, he would be forced to answer those. He just didn’t want to start with Bryce. And he really didn’t want to have a serious conversation while he was in the precinct gym. If he did, everyone would know by the end of the day. Cops were worse gossips than little old ladies.

  “Pat, tell me if I’m prying, but… did something happen while you were gone?”

  “You’re prying.”

  “Sorry, man.” Bryce reached out and gave his shoulder a squeeze. “If you need someone to take you out drinking and then carry your drunk ass home, give me a call.”

  Patrick laughed dryly. “Thanks, man, you’re a good friend.”

  “You sure you want to take Bingo?”

  “Positive.”

  “Okay, I’ll bring her and all of her stuff by later.”

  “Do I need to get anything for her?”

  “We’ll go over it when I bring her by. I should have enough stuff for you that you’ll be fine until you can pick up stuff on your own.” Bryce climbed to his feet. “I really appreciate this, Patrick. She needs a good home.”

  “I’ll try and give her one.”

  “You’ll do a good job. So, I’ll stop by when my shift is over. Is that good for you?”

  “What time?”

  “I’m off at four, so, after that?”

  “That’ll be fine. It’ll give me time to put away the shit I brought home with me.”

  “You still haven’t unpacked yet?”

  “No. There were clean clothes in the closet.” Patrick sighed. “Plus, I didn’t really feel like looking at the stuff from my trip.”

  Sympathetic hazel eyes looked into his. “You sure that you don’t want to talk about it?”

  “I’m not ready to talk about it.”

  “Okay. My drinking offer still stands.” Bryce gave a light whistle, and Bingo gave Patrick’s hand one last lick before moving to Bryce’s side. The redhead gave him a nod before he walked out of the gym with Bingo at his side.

  Watching them go, Patrick sighed as the melancholy feelings that he had been fighting overtook him once again. He’d only been home for a day, and it just kept getting worse. Sure, his shoulder was better, but the rest of him felt like complete and utter shit. Patrick sighed and tossed himself back onto the floor, starting to do sit-ups once again. His lungs gave a slight wheeze, but that could have been from the half a pack of cigarettes he’d consumed since his return. He was starting to feel a pull in his abdominal muscles, but his shoulder wasn’t bothering him, so he didn’t stop.

  Patrick had barely slept the night before. Dreams had turned into nightmares. After the third time he woke in a cold sweat, he had given up on getting back to sleep. Instead, he had grabbed his cigarettes and gone to sit on the balcony outside of his room. Patrick had watched the sun come up, attempting to think of nothing. It hadn’t worked. His thoughts were what had sent him running to the precinct gym in an attempt to work out until he was too exhausted to think. It had been working until Bryce had shown up.

  Trying to get back to the place where he was too tired to think, Patrick pushed himself until his muscles were shaking. He flopped back against the floor, panting for breath. Several of the other officers were watching him, but no one else came over to talk. Apparently Bryce was the only brave one among them. Patrick stared at the beige ceiling as he sucked in deep lungfuls of air. Maybe I am pushing myself too hard.

  Patrick groaned as he rolled to his feet. He could feel the muscles in his back pull as he stretched. The sweat that was drying on his body was starting to make him shiver. Time for a shower. Patrick groaned once more as he headed for the locker room. He nodded to the other cops as he walked but kept his eyes averted. He didn’t want anyone to stop him and ask how his trip was. He just wanted to shower and go home.

  Bypassing the other men in the locker room, Patrick grabbed his shower stuff from his locker. With a towel wrapped around his waist, Patrick headed to the rows of showers. He quickly stepped under one and turned on the water. He was instantly hit with a pounding spray of hot water. The showers at the station always came on hot with enough water pressure to bruise. Patrick wasn’t sure why, but it was nice on the muscles after a workout. Patrick moaned as the water pounded against the sore muscles in his shoulders. He’d been nothing but one giant sore muscle since the last time he had seen Brad.

  Brad. Thinking about Brad instantly brought back all of the tension that the shower had removed. Patrick felt his muscles lock up, and the shower suddenly became annoying rather than soothing. All he wanted was a smoke. Growling in frustration and anger, Patrick shut off the water, wrapped his towel around his waist, and stalked to his locker. He could feel the water dripping down his back as he hunted through his locker for clean clothes. Finding his jeans, he dropped the towel to the floor and started to pull them on.

  “Nice ass, Hawkins.” The comment was followed by a very loud wolf whistle. “Just seeing it makes me want to take a bite out of it.”

  Patrick did up his jeans before he turned. Standing behind him was Officer Burt Holland and two of his cronies. He was ten years older than Patrick but still hadn’t been able to pass the Detective’s exam, and with his attitude, Patrick doubted that he ever would. His dirty-blond hair was starting to recede from his wide forehead. Beady brown eyes were slightly sunken into a face that looked as if it had been flattened. Burt had been a powerfully built man, but he was starting to go soft around the middle. He was not an attractive man.

  The comments had started just after Patrick joined the force and had increased in frequency when he had been promoted to detective. Patrick wasn’t sure if Burt was really attracted to him or just wanted to get a rise out of him. He got a bad vibe off of the man and tried to avoid him as much as possible. Unfortunately, it was starting to seem like Burt was seeking him out.

  “Fuck off, Holland.”

  “Oh come on, Hawkins. Wouldn’t you rather I fuck on?” Burt licked his lips and leered at Patrick. One of the men standing with him snickered.

  “I’d rather fuck an angry raccoon.” Patrick gave him a slow once-over. “Although, I can’t see much of a difference.”

  “Filthy faggot whore!”

  “Oh, bring it on, shithead.” Patrick’s fists clenched as he took a step forward. He wasn’t sure who threw the first punch, but suddenly he and Burt were fighting. Instead of trying to break them up, Burt’s cronies were egging him on. It seemed as though Burt thought that Patrick wouldn’t be as strong, since he was still in recovery. That just proved how much of an idiot Burt actually was.

  Patrick was only too happy to prove him wrong. He tossed himself into the fight with all of the anger that he was feeling. Every time his fists connected, he felt a small surge of glee. Patrick saw Burt’s eyes drop to his nipple ring and knew that the other man was going to play dirty, when a slender hand landed on his chest and shoved him out of the way.

  “What the fuck is going on in here?” Justine demanded. Burt tried to push past her, and Justine delivered a punch to his solar plexus tha
t had him doubling over to catch air. Her angry eyes fastened on Patrick once more. “Don’t make me fucking repeat myself.”

  Patrick knew that the sparks in her green eyes were a bad sign, but he couldn’t get over the fact that she was standing in the men’s locker room. “What are you doing in here? This is the men’s locker room.”

  “Someone came out and grabbed me because everyone else was too chickenshit to break up the fight.” She crossed her arms over her chest, and the action caused the material of her white dress shirt to press closely enough to her arms that faint hints of her tattoos were visible. “Now, tell me what the fuck happened.”

  “Holland was running his mouth off.”

  “So you punched him? He always runs his mouth off. What made this time so special?”

  “I guess I’m just touchier than I normally am.” Patrick wiped a hand across his mouth and was surprised to find a smear of blood along it. He looked from his bloodied hand to Burt and glared. Burt attempted to glare back, but the effect was ruined by the eye that was swelling shut.

  “Patrick, you are still on medical leave. You can’t go around beating the shit out of people until you’ve had your review.”

  “You should listen to Mommy,” Burt sneered.

  Justine spun to face him. “Don’t start with me. I’m not the one on medical leave, and I have no problem finishing the beating that my partner started.” She raised an arm and pointed to the door. “Out.”

  “But—”

  “Out!”

  Patrick smirked as he watched Burt slink out of the locker room with his cronies behind him. The smirk vanished as Justine turned back to face him. She still looked incredibly angry. “Hey, Sparky.”

  “Don’t you ‘Hey, Sparky’ me, you ingrate. I’m mad at you.”

  “Why?”