Before he could squeeze off a round, something dark flew through the air and hit Sanders, staining his clothing and running down his face.

"f.u.c.k!" he yelled, reflexively raising his arms to protect his head.

Coffee. Someone had thrown hot coffee at him. The mug tumbled across the floorboards at his feet, and when he dropped his gun, it landed beside it.

Jackson laid his gun down on the counter and lunged forward, diving across the floor. Sanders did the same, and they bashed heads.

The pain was nothing compared to the thrill of relief that hit Jackson when his hand closed around Sanders' gun.

He had it, and he slid it backwards, hard, sending it across the floorboards and far out of reach beneath the breakfast bar. Then he grabbed Sanders.

Sanders jerked away and reared back, raising a fist. It collided with Jackson's jaw before he could react, and his head snapped to the side.

It hurt but didn't put him down. He'd taken a lot of punches in his lifetime, and it wasn't the worst. More than anything, it made him furious.

Looking at Sanders, he saw Kate's bruised jaw. He saw Marissa Brewer, covered in blood, and he saw his junkie mother who'd killed herself with the drugs she'd used to distance herself from her s.h.i.tty reality. He saw his pathetic younger self, and he saw his father, a kindred spirit of this man's.

He hated them both, and he threw himself at Sanders with vengeful intent. Sanders struggled, but Jackson drove his fist hard into his solar plexus. While Sanders doubled over in reflex, he dragged him the rest of the way down to the floor and put his good knee in his back, pinning him with all his weight.

Then he looked up at the frozen crowd. Belle was standing with one leg and arm forward she must've been the one to throw the coffee. Now, she held his gun with both hands, the muzzle pointed at an empty section of floor.

Relief rushed through him. His Glock in her hands meant no one else would be able to grab it and do anything stupid out of panic. Normally, he wouldn't have put it down in the first place, but there was no safety and it'd seemed too likely that it might go off during a physical struggle, especially with his bad leg.

Near Belle, Ashley was standing at the counter, eyes wide and jaw slack.

Jackson thrust a finger in Ashley's direction. "Call 911. Now!"

She twirled as if a spell had been broken and scrambled down to the far end of the counter, by the register.

For the first time, Jackson strained to hear the sound of sirens, experiencing the agony of waiting for the police to arrive.

Usually, he was the one speeding through traffic, sirens wailing. That was so much easier to bear than just waiting. Holding Sanders down, he felt suspended in time he wanted to do something, but without handcuffs, all he could do was restrain Sanders until someone got there with a pair.

He waited for what felt like an eternity, but was probably only a minute. Sirens shattered the stunned silence in the cafe, and four officers hurried through the door, weapons drawn.

Someone let out a delayed scream.

Jackson breathed a sigh of relief.

The uniformed officers cuffed Sanders' hands behind his back and took over the arrest. When that was done, Jackson could finally meet Belle's gaze.

With a supreme effort, he forced himself to his feet. His bad leg throbbed in protest of what he'd just put it through, tremors racing through the muscle as he stood, staring at Belle.

Unlike the other diners, her eyes weren't glazed with shock. They were bright with emotion, and he felt their pull like a riptide.

He went to her. It was going to be one h.e.l.l of a long day, but first he needed to know...

"Did you throw that coffee?"

She nodded, her expression darkening. "I thought of that time Zackary burnt his hands at work. I guess he did me a favor in the long run."

Jackson almost laughed. A rough sound escaped him and whether it was from nerves, shock or both, he didn't know. "You saved my a.s.s."

A smiled leapt to her lips, then flickered away. "We're even."

The ramifications of what'd just happened started to dawn on him, then: with that cup of hot coffee, she'd freed him.

Sanders wasn't going to hurt his wife anymore, and he'd never get the chance to hurt his child. There was no question that he'd be behind bars, where he belonged, for a long f.u.c.king while.

Kate Sanders would get a fresh start, and her son wouldn't remember any of this.

The burden that'd been riding Jackson's shoulders all summer was gone, and he could finally breathe.

"Aldred said the department is helping Kate Sanders get set up with professional counseling," Jackson said.

Belle looked over her shoulder at him as she stood at her stove, making pancakes just like he had the other day. "Good. I'm sure she needs it."

The scent of singed chocolate wafted up from the pan she hadn't been able to resist adding a handful of chips.

"Yeah. Should help her with her fresh start or the closest she can get to one, anyway."

She nodded. It would be naive to think that Kate could simply forget her abusive husband and embrace a new life full of sunshine and rainbows. Life as the single parent of a newborn was bound to be difficult, especially with her scars. But her husband had been denied bail after the previous day's incident, and at the very least, he couldn't hurt her physically anymore.

That fact seemed to have released Jackson from the grip of his guilt over the Sanders family's problems.

It was almost like a fresh start for him. The dark cloud that'd shadowed his summer was gone. He seemed more at ease, and even more optimistic about his ongoing recovery.

"You look like you're a million miles away, Belle. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong." Just the opposite everything seemed to be taking a turn for the better. "It's just a lot to take in at once. The past week has been bizarre."

He came up behind her and laid his hands on her hips. "Yeah, it has. And you've been through a lot."

She had, but it could've been much worse. The sense of shock and betrayal over her ordeal with Zackary was still potent. But at least she hadn't been harmed, other than the hangover she'd suffered from the drug. Thanks to Jackson and Elijah, Zackary hadn't had the chance to live out whatever sick fantasy he'd planned. Being present during the shooting at Tempest Cafe had been much scarier, even if no one had been hurt.

And it was because of Zackary that she'd thought to throw the coffee at Sanders. Despite everything, she was glad he'd worked in the admissions office.

"Maybe we should go on a vacation," Jackson said, his breath tickling her ear. "Get away from it all."

"Hmm..." She flipped fresh chocolate chip pancakes onto a plate. "Where would we go some place warm and relaxing? Maybe an island somewhere."

"An island sounds perfect." He squeezed her hip. "Not much of a change of scenery, though."

She laughed despite herself and everything that had happened. "It's hard to justify getting away when you live somewhere that's most people's idea of paradise."

"We could drive to the mountains. I hear the Smokies in Western North Carolina are nice."

"What would we do in the mountains with your leg still healing? Besides, you know the police department is going to want to question us about yesterday again."

"Mmm. Right. Well... How about we spend today on Blue Mile, then? Pack a picnic and stay until the stars come out? We can cough up the cash for licenses and equipment rental to fish off the pier if you get tired of sitting on the beach."

She could already smell the sea breeze and hear the waves, and she suddenly longed to walk into the water and let it wash over every bit of her. After everything that had happened, it would be cleansing.

"Sounds great." She shut off the stove. "How about we go after your physical therapy appointment?"

"It's a date."

Something settled into place inside her, and she felt a sense of satisfaction and antic.i.p.ation that had evaded her since the shooting. A day on the beach with Jackson would be perfect it was how their relationship had begun, years ago. And they'd survived to enjoy yet another day on the Blue Mile.

He leaned even closer, until his lips brushed the top of her head. "Please tell me you're going to wear that little blue bikini you have..."

Before she could reply, a knock came at the door.

She jumped, b.u.mping into Jackson. He was hard, although she barely had time to notice.

"I've got it." He started to move away from her, then looked down at the bulge between his hips. His shorts did nothing to hide it. "Hold on a minute..."

He turned to face the sink, where he splashed his face with cold water.

Belle tried her best not to laugh, and he gave her an unamused look. "I'm just trying to make myself presentable. It's not easy with you around, tempting me."

When he finally made it to the door, he looked out through the peep hole and turned to Belle. "It's Mariah."

"Really? She didn't say anything about coming by."

"Looks like she brought a friend."

Belle opened the door to find Mariah standing on the stoop, a black ball of fur in her arms.

"A puppy? Where'd you get one of those?"

Mariah grinned. "They were having an adoption in the animal shelter parking lot."

"Does your lease allow dogs?"

"Yes ... for a price. The pet deposit is pretty hefty." She shrugged. "I've always wanted a dog, and when I saw this little guy I knew it was fate."

The ball of fur wriggled, and the puppy raised its head. Its muzzle was tan, in contrast to its midnight black body, and there were light markings above its eyes, too.

Belle stepped aside so Mariah could come in. "What kind of dog is he?"

"A German Shepherd and husky mix."

"Wow, he's going to get big." He was barely the size of a small cat now, soft and fluffy looking.

"I know. He'll make a great watch dog."

Belle had no doubt that Mariah relished the thought of having a big dog that'd make any would-be intruders think twice before breaking into her home. The victims in those crime specials she loved so much didn't usually have eighty pound canine sentries keeping watch.

"I already have plans for his training, but never mind that now. I dropped by because they say animals are great for relieving stress. After all you two have been through lately, I thought you might like to hold Atlas."

Belle hadn't held a puppy for years, but the familiar sense of delight came flooding back when Mariah placed Atlas in her arms. With hair as soft as down, he was warm and surprisingly heavy. He rested his muzzle in the crook of her arm and seemed to enjoy being held.

"This makes me want a puppy." Belle sighed.

"When he grows up and finishes his training, he and I can come over any time you feel you're in danger." Mariah looked at Atlas as if he were her firstborn. "He'd keep you safe."

"Thanks, but I plan to be much more careful in the future. It'll be a cold day in h.e.l.l before I trust someone just because I work with them again, and I might just start drinking exclusively from a flask."

Jackson placed a hand on Belle's shoulder. "And you have me, Princess. I'm much meaner than any puppy."

Belle glanced up at Jackson. "Yeah, and even when you're back at work, you'll only be a 911 call away."

"That's right." He squeezed her shoulder.

"Do you want to hold him?" Belle turned to face Jackson, nodding down at Atlas.

When Jackson scooped the puppy into his arms, it was the most adorable thing she'd ever seen. Her heart melted layer by layer, doubling her sudden desire for a puppy of her own.

It only lasted a few moments, and then Atlas got restless. After a few moments of wriggling, Jackson set him gently down on the floor.

Atlas looked around, dropped his nose to the ground and started inspecting his surroundings. His little tail wagged back and forth as he trotted into the kitchen, probably attracted to the smell of the pancakes sitting on the counter.

"Uh-oh," Belle said when she noticed a puddle forming on the linoleum.

Mariah rushed forward. "c.r.a.p, I'm so sorry!"

She lunged at the paper towel roll like a movie GI diving onto a grenade. "He's only nine weeks old. I figured we'd only be here for a little while, and he'd be able to hold it."

"It's all right," Belle said. "At least it's not the carpet."

Belle picked Atlas back up and held him while Mariah disinfected the kitchen floor as if it were a piece of surgical equipment about to be used.

"So," she said when she'd finished and scrubbed her hands clean at the sink, "any word on that p.r.i.c.k, Zackary?"

"He's out on bail." Belle stroked Atlas' fur. "But court is coming up."

Mariah's eyes widened. "I don't like knowing he's out there after what he tried. It's not right."

"If he comes anywhere near her again, it'll be the last thing he ever does." Jackson's voice was full of a resolve so smooth and steely, it chilled Belle's blood.

"Anyway," Belle said, "Jackson helped me file for a temporary restraining order, and the magistrate granted it. And if all else fails, I can throw a mean cup of coffee."

"You've proven that." Mariah nodded. "Still, I can't wait to see him punished for what he did. What a perv."

"Me neither. And I'll be careful meanwhile, I promise. Plus, I've got my own personal hero cop."