Act Of Valor

She heard a shrill bark, the sound of scrabbling claws and running feet. He grabbed her chin in his hand, fingers pressing into her flesh. “You butted in to my business. Not gonna leave any witnesses behind to ID me. This won’t be done until you’re dead.” Then he released his grip and charged to the door.

Through her shuddering breaths, she heard another bark. It was Eddie, had to be, and Zach. Would they be gunned down as they sprinted toward the break room? Frantically, she tried to scramble to her feet, but her body systems were offline, legs trembling, lungs gasping for breath, terror charging every nerve and sinew. The best she could do was sit up, head whirling.

Zach slammed through the door with Eddie, gun in hand. Relief made her whimper. Brown must have gotten away without a shoot-out.

When he saw her, his blue eyes went wide and he dropped to a knee at her side. Eddie whined and poked his nose at her shin.

“Vi...how bad is it?”

“I...” she stammered. He was reaching for the radio clipped to his shoulder.

“Don’t move. I’m calling an ambulance. Backup is already rolling, and Carter will be here in two minutes.”

“No,” she finally managed. He stopped as if he’d gotten an electric shock.

“I’m okay.” She finally got the words out.

“No, you’re not. I’m calling.”

She forced her teeth to stop chattering. “Go after him, Zach. He goes by Joe Brown. He had drugs in his suitcase. I saw. He’s wearing a brown leather jacket.”

“Not leaving you.”

Zach reached for the radio again, but she snatched for his wrist, pressing her fingers there and taking comfort in the steady rhythm of his pulse.

“I’m okay. Not hurt.”

He raised a doubtful eyebrow. “You’d say that if you’d been sawed in half.”

She shoved the hair from her face. “New York tough.”

He touched her cheek with a tentative finger. “Griffin tough. You have a red mark. Here.”

The touch made something ache inside, but she brushed him off. “Go do your job,” she said in a voice with only the tiniest break in it, which she hoped he would not notice. “There was another guy. I don’t know if they were together. He had a long braid. My boss, Bill, he escorted him to security and the TSA let him through without scanning his bags.”

“Vi...” He huffed out a breath, broad chest still heaving from his run along the corridor. “Let me help you, wouldja? You could be hurt more than you think.”

She flashed him a cocky smile. “Griffin tough, remember?”

She knew what he was thinking. Jordan, his hero of an older brother, had been tough, too, and now he was dead. Zach’s expression said it all.

With surprising tenderness, he pressed his cheek to her palm. Warmth spread from their point of contact, up her arm, reviving and restoring. She wanted to keep him there, strong jaw, warm skin, the gesture so vulnerable. She yearned to reach out and stroke his thatch of close-cut chestnut hair and block out what had just happened.

“I’m not losing any more family. Not on my watch,” he mumbled into her cupped palm.

Family. You’re like a sister to him, her mind prodded. That’s all. She sucked in a breath and tried to get hold of her glitching emotions. It took all her effort to detach herself from him. “I’m fine. Like I said. Stop babying me.”

Another officer barreled in. Zach brought him up to speed and the officer relayed the info on the radio.

Zach shifted his attention from his colleague to her and back again.

“Go,” she said, tone all business, tipping her chin up and daring him with her glance to disobey.

He gave her one more look, filled with emotions that a tough K-9 cop would never put into words. Concern for a longtime family friend, no doubt. Eagerness to do his job. Guilt at how he’d failed his brother. His gaze wandered her face, lips twitching for a moment with some unspoken thought. Her heart ached to see something else in his countenance, something beyond duty and childhood affection, but he turned away, in pursuit of his quarry.

Part of her prayed he would catch up to Joe Brown.

This won’t be done until you’re dead.

The other part prayed he wouldn’t.

* * *

Fifteen frustrating minutes later Zach met his brother Carter by the ticket counter. The suspect had bolted. Zach noted the disgruntled white shepherd, Frosty, panting at Carter’s side. Fortuitous that Carter, a transit K-9 cop, was at LaGuardia for some training with the TSA employees. The command unit had dogs assigned to various departments throughout the NYPD so most of the time they were not serving in the same spot at the same time. They each had their specific unit duties, which could be preempted if a situation required a particular canine’s abilities. The duties were ever changing, and it was part of the reason Zach loved his job. Even before Carter’s report, Zach could tell by the dog’s dejected demeanor that there had been no suspect taken into custody. Zach felt exactly the same way as the dog. He ground his teeth as his brother spun out the details.

“Witnesses saw a guy matching the description exit the airport heading west. We’re on it. Still trying to work out what happened to the other guy. He didn’t get on a plane, so he must have seen the cop activity and taken off, too.” He cocked his head. “Vi?”

“She says she’s okay. Refused an ambulance.”

Carter quirked a wry smile. “Yeah. Big surprise. I’ll gather Violet’s boss and any other witnesses we can round up. You and Eddie gonna do a sweep?”

“Yeah. Listen, can you pull someone else to start on the statements and go sit with Violet? She’s shaken up, and I want one of us with her.”

His brother nodded. “Ten-four. On my way.”

It made Zach feel infinitely better to know that Carter would be with Violet. For all her brave talk, there was a shadow of something in her eyes that made him wonder if she was as okay as she proclaimed to be. Not that she’d admit anything else under pain of death.

Considering the lowlife who put his hands on her made Zach’s blood heat to near boiling. He forced himself to calm down. Tension was transmitted right down the leash, through the harness to Eddie, and there was no need for that. Eddie had had a difficult start in life, tied to a streetlamp as a puppy one bitter February evening and left to die. Sent to a busy shelter, he’d been rescued by a group that evaluated dogs for potential police service. Eddie’s nose, even as an untrained pup, was stellar. He’d been given his name in honor of fallen NYPD officer Ed Owens. Best of all, Eddie worked for two things: affection and treats. Zach made those treats from scratch. Nothing was too good for Eddie.

Zach bent down and fondled Eddie’s ears, capturing the dog’s muzzle and looking at his sad brown eyes. “You’re my good baby, aren’t you?” he whispered in a singsong voice that he’d never allow anyone else to hear. Then, louder, “Work time.”

Eddie sprang to his feet, twenty-five pounds of get-up-and-go, primed for the search. If Violet was right, maybe her attacker had ditched the drugs somewhere when he heard the cavalry arrive. If there were drugs in the vicinity, Eddie would know it, thanks to his 220 million scent receptors and a ferocious drive to do his job. All that dog talent wrapped in an adorable package. Eddie was a rock star, in Zach’s view, even if he had a two-mile-wide stubborn streak. Just like his handler, Jordy had often said.

“Find the drugs, Eddie.”

The dog put his nose to the floor as they worked their way along the corridor. There was nothing of interest immediately outside the break room. Eddie snuffled along the corridor with that signature beagle trot and tail wag. They headed to the terminal, which the cops had temporarily closed. Irate passengers huffed and complained. He ignored them, easing Eddie through the throng. Another beautiful thing about beagles: they didn’t scare people like some other breeds of police dogs. Eddie was a goodwill ambassador when he wasn’t taking down drug smugglers.

Carter messaged him that they had still not located the first guy who had passed through security. He’d somehow vanished, leading Zach to believe he’d been helped out of the airport by the same crooked employee and possibly Violet’s boss.

Eddie sniffed, nose glued to the floor. Nothing. He shook his ears.

“Come on, boy. Anything?”

They moved on a few paces.

With a cheerful swish of his tail, Eddie waggled his way toward a cleaning cart. The custodian was about to empty a dustpan into the big plastic garbage bin.

An invisible shock went through the dog. Eddie tensed, tail erect, nostrils quivering. Zach could practically feel the animal’s excitement, or maybe it was his own. He tried to keep his breathing even as Eddie circled and sat, the perfect passive response signal. He looked up at Zach.

“Sir, can you hold up a minute?” Zach called.

The custodian jerked in surprise. “Huh?”

“I need you to stop what you’re doing for a moment.”

The guy nodded and stepped away from the trash can. Zach peered in. “May I?” Zach said, pointing to a box of rubber gloves on the cart.

“Knock yourself out.”

Zach pulled on rubber gloves and reached into the can, hauling out the brown leather jacket Violet had described and trying not to crow his triumph. Now he had physical evidence. There might be hair, prints, clues. Zach would bust the dirtbag who’d put his hands on Violet. It wasn’t as good as chasing him down and cuffing him, but it was enough for now.

The custodian’s mouth fell open. “Why would somebody throw away a perfectly good jacket?”

Zach put the pieces into place. Joe Brown was in a hurry, he’d heard Eddie approaching, a dog tracking the scent of the drugs, and he was desperate not to be caught. Eddie bayed long and loud. A sock peeked out of the jacket pocket, reeking with the smell of menthol rub. “He took the drugs out of his suitcase and dumped the jacket as a diversion when he ran,” Zach muttered.

The custodian whistled. “Ain’t that something. He figured your dog couldn’t track the scent of drugs because of the cold rub?”

Zach gave Eddie one of his homemade treats from a pouch at his waist. “He figured wrong.”

THREE

Zach waited impatiently for the airport officers to secure the evidence before he practically jogged with Eddie to find Violet. She looked more herself now, sitting in one corner of the employee room while Carter and the TSA supervisor interviewed her boss, Bill Oscar, in the other. He could tell by the tapping of her sleek pump on the carpeted floor that she was itching to confront the man herself. He went to her.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, of course. He just knocked me over, that’s all. Did you...?”

“He made it out of the terminal, but we’ve got officers looking for him, canvassing bus and subway stations, alerting the taxi cabs, et cetera. We’ll get him.”

“What about the other guy? Bill walked him to security. I don’t know if he boarded or not.”

“Looks like he ran, too. We’re going over the camera footage. Don’t worry.”

She caught her lip between her teeth in that way that meant she was thinking. Violet was smart, so much smarter than he’d ever be. She’d been working on a college business degree in the evenings before her father broke his ankle last summer. Then she’d stepped in to help at the family restaurant, putting aside her college work for a while. Though her school was on a break for the next two weeks, she’d reenrolled in classes again, determined to finish this time. Smart, steel-tough, sassy, loyal as the day was long; that was Violet Griffin.

Bill finished with the officer and walked to them. “I am glad you’re okay, Vi. I was worried.”

A shower of sparks lit her eyes from coffee to caramel. “Don’t bother with the pleasantries. You let the guy with the braid bypass security and you would have done the same with Joe Brown if I hadn’t intervened. What gives?”

He shook his head. “Absolutely not. You misunderstood what you saw. I didn’t know that TSA agent was gonna pass him through.” He looked at Zach. “The guy with a long braid, acting shifty. I walked him to security personally. I figured he’d be scanned and detained if there was cause. That’s a TSA responsibility.”

“Just ID’d him from security footage. Roger Talmadge, goes by Roach. He’s got a rap sheet—petty stuff, DUI, possession,” Zach said.

Bill nodded. “I delivered him right to screening but there must have been something shady between this Roach and the TSA guy.”

“Yeah,” Zach said. “Agent’s name is Jeb Leak. At the moment, he’s missing.”

“See?” Bill sighed. “On the take. New guy. I should have suspected, but...” He shrugged. “Well frankly, I was preoccupied. The wife’s been sick, you know, and she’s got a checkup today to see how the treatment’s been working.” His forehead was creased with deep grooves. “She’s been in the hospital more than she’s been out.”

Though it looked as if her ire dulled a fraction, Violet was not about to be appeased. “What about Joe Brown? He had drugs in his suitcase. I saw it before he moved it to his pocket, and the chest rub was extra protection against the dogs.”

“I agreed with you. He was probably smuggling something.” Bill fixed her with a look. “Vi, you’re killing me. We’ve worked together for ten years now, and I didn’t want you involved if things were gonna get ugly, which is why I walked him there myself, just like the first guy. I was trying to protect you and you’re practically accusing me of being in cahoots with a smuggler. How could you possibly think that?”

Violet didn’t reply.

“Dump the guilt trip. Your behavior was suspicious,” Zach said. “She was right about both men.”

“I was trying to do my job and keep her out of trouble. I’d think that would garner a little appreciation.” He sighed. “If you two are done interrogating me, I’ve got a mess of people at the ticket counter to sort through.”

Violet started to follow him.

“No, no,” Bill said, holding up a hand. “You go on home now. You’ve had a bad day and Liz is here to start her shift. Go get some rest.”

Vi watched him leave, a troubled crimp on her mouth.

“You believe him?” Zach asked.

“I’ve known them for a long time. His wife, Rory, has been sick—breast cancer—and she hasn’t responded well to treatments. He’s shouldered a lot of the load with his two boys. Maybe he really was preoccupied, trying to keep me out of it.” She broke off to look at Zach. “Do you trust him?”

“I’m not wired to trust people. Occupational hazard, but I do agree with him that you should go home. I’ll take you.”

She brushed back her hair with an impatient hand. “I don’t need a chaperone. I can take the bus home or call a car service.”

He braced himself for battle. “My car’s faster. I have a shiny red siren.”

“Your seats smell like a wet beagle, and you have a shift to finish. Go back to work.”

He folded his arms. “My vehicle was detailed yesterday, and Eddie has recently been bathed with special shampoo. He practically reeks with the scent of a spring meadow. I’m walking you to my car and driving you home. You don’t get to have a say in that, so grab your bag and let’s go.”

Her nostrils flared. “You’re pushy.”

“I’m right, as usual.”

Vi arched an eyebrow. “Pretty high-and-mighty for a guy who can’t ride a bike and breaks things on a regular basis.”

“I can ride a bike, I just don’t want to, and it’s been two whole days since I busted anything.”

“Uh-huh, but the last one at the diner was a doozy. You knocked over a wait stand and broke six dishes and a coffeepot.”

“Four. Your mother said it was four dishes.”

“My mother lied to make you feel better. I’m not as kind as she is.”

“Get your bag, Vi,” he said with a chuckle. He felt her staring at him. “What is it now?”

A gentle smile lit her face. “You laughed. I haven’t heard you laugh since...” The smile faded. “I mean...for weeks.”

He lifted a shoulder and grabbed for Eddie’s leash. Violet had always been able to make him laugh with that combination of edgy humor and intelligence, matching him tease for tease. He knew a lot of great women—pretty, smart, ambitious—dated many of them, but none like her. There was something just...better about her, which he could not pin down. Probably she seemed different because he’d known her since she was a gap-toothed first-grader. Still, Violet was irreplaceable and if he and God were on speaking terms, he’d say a prayer of thanks that she was unharmed. Anger bit hard at him.

He and God weren’t friends anymore. Zach deserved to encounter shipwrecks in his life, he’d probably caused most of them with his combination of impulsivity and stubbornness, but Jordy... God should have looked out for Jordy. No, he and God were no longer on speaking terms.

Shoving on his hat, he strode out of the room, grateful to have Vi clipping along in her pumps right next to him.

* * *

Violet kept her pace quick in spite of the twinges in her back and her throbbing cheekbone. She would not let Zach see her discomfort, especially the inner turmoil simmering below the surface like a monster fish ready to suck her under. She didn’t want to speak of her feelings, not the real, raw, deep-down ones. Not to Zach.

He has too much on his heart already. I can’t add to his burdens. Besides, they had their roles: he the jokester, overprotective big-brother type, and she the in-control, stand-up-to-anyone tough girl. She intended to keep it that way for both their sakes.

Bad enough that everyone was no doubt waiting at the diner, talking about what had happened. Her father would press for her to move into the cramped bedroom at the house in Rego Park where she’d grown up, but that would be going backward and she would not allow herself to give in to the fear. The airport attack was upsetting, traumatic, but it wasn’t going to derail her progress. Her college classes were starting up again in a matter of weeks, and this time she wasn’t going to take a break until she had that business degree firmly in her possession.

She was grateful that Zach did not seem to be in a talking mood as they exited the terminal and climbed on a shuttle. They made their way to the parking structure where Zach’s car occupied a reserved police spot. Inside the garage the gloom felt smothering, the acrid scent of gasoline and exhaust making her stomach flip over. Eddie shook his muzzle as if to clear away the barrage of odors.

The silence grew tedious as they stepped into the garage elevator. She noticed the steely look on Zach’s face. Claustrophobic, though he staunchly denied it. It brought her back to a day when the two of them, teenage rebels cutting school to go to the beach, had discovered a massive drainage pipe and stupidly gone in to explore. The deeper they’d gone into that cement tube, the sweatier and more panic-stricken Zach had become until she’d thought he was going to pass out. Grabbing his wrist, she’d led him from the pipe to a spot of sand where she’d held him around the shoulders until his breathing quieted.

“Sorry, Vi,” he’d said, mortified, forehead pressed to hers.

She’d squeezed his fingers, kissed him on the cheek, made a joke and never mentioned the incident again. It was her gift to him, a secret kept, a silent pact from two childhood friends. And he’d kept her secrets, too. In eighth grade Gil Fisher had stolen her journal from her locker. Violet wasn’t a writer, but inside were her sketches of the boys she’d had crushes on, complete with colored hearts around them. Gil was prepared to share her private drawings with every kid in the school until Zach got a hold of him. Whatever he’d said to Gil she would never know, but Gil had promptly handed back the journal and none of them had ever spoken of it. She wondered for the millionth time if Zach had seen the last picture in the journal, a picture she’d sketched of him.

As the elevator shuddered upward, the tight line of his jaw indicated that he was gritting out the ride. She wished she had the nerve to take his hand again and tell him she still understood, had his back through whatever would come. She yearned to comfort him about Jordy’s death. How the touch would comfort her, too, still the wobbling in her stomach and the trembling in her knees. But they had roles to play, didn’t they? Instead, she watched the buttons light the way to the third floor and stepped out next to him.

Violet sighed. “Satisfied? We made it to your car safe and sound. Box checked. The first part of your job is done.”

He frowned. “You’re not just a job, Vi.”

He didn’t look at her when he said it, and she knew the words hadn’t been easy for him to get out. She gentled her tone. “I know. Thanks for everything.”

“I’ll get you settled in at your apartment. Make sure everything’s secure.”

“Not necessary.”

“Did you get an alarm system or a Doberman since I was there last?”

“No.”

“Then I’ll check the doors and windows, since your roomie’s out of town.”

She threw up a hand. “Okay. You win.”

“That’s a first.”

“It probably won’t happen again anytime soon.”

“Then I’ll just bask in the glow.”

She stopped at the rear bumper when he touched her shoulders.

“Really, Vi. Kidding aside. I want you to be careful.” His hands wandered up her back, coming to rest on her neck under her hair. The blue of his eyes lulled her, his face so incredibly handsome.

A squealing of tires split the air. Zach’s head jerked up. A car peeled around the curve, a flash of a familiar face behind the wheel, big, barrel-chested.

Her attacker.

Joe Brown.

Eyes slitted, ruthless, determined half smile.

The car bore down on them. Zach shoved Violet behind him.

In terror she grappled to get hold of his shirt and pull him back with her between the parked cars, but he was turning, reaching for his side arm, shouting.

The car careened on, charging toward Zach and Eddie like a heat-seeking missile until the front bumper plowed into the rear of Zach’s SUV.

Glass shattered somewhere close, pinging her with tiny chips. She stumbled.

Zach leaped backward, pulling Eddie with him, crashing into the side of the vehicle. A bright drop of blood splattered the rear passenger window.

Zach lay on the ground, eyes closed, while Eddie whined and pawed at his chest.

FOUR

Zach felt pressure on his rib cage, a flash of hot pain on his cheek, followed by the clammy squelch of a probing dog nose. Cold from the cement floor seeped through his uniform shirt. The sensations coalesced all at once into a frantic need to move. He opened his eyes and jerked to a sitting position, sending Eddie into another round of high-pitched yelping. He saw himself mirrored in Violet’s brown irises as she stared down at him. She pressed a hand to his sternum.

“Stay still. I’ll call for an ambulance.”

He ignored her, struggling to his feet while scanning the parking lot for Joe Brown. He was long gone. Zach bit back a growl of frustration, jerked his radio free and called in. The on-duty police and TSA were alerted to look for the vehicle. It was the best they could do. He declined medical help, of course. Mercifully, Violet appeared unharmed. One thing had gone right, anyway.

“How did he know you were leaving with me?” he mused. “Seems unlikely he would stick around to tail us.” It wasn’t coincidence, either. LaGuardia had multiple police parking areas, both outdoors as well as the garage, so it hadn’t been a fortunate guess on the part of Brown. They might have been followed from the terminal, but he probably would have noticed that and no one had tracked them into the elevator.

Violet frowned and he knew what she was thinking.

“Your boss knows you left with me?”

She hesitated. “Yes.”

“So it would be easy for him to pass that on to Brown...”