A Tender Touch. Lenora Worth

told Clay that Freddie Hayes would understand.

      “It’s just…things can get so intense, you know. And that night when Samson got injured, I got hurt, too.”

      “You did? Oh, you didn’t mention that.”

      “Yes,” he said, seeing the fear and pain in her eyes. She was probably reliving her husband’s death. “I got stabbed, but…no one in my family knows much about it, except my mother, and she thinks it was only a flesh wound.”

      He saw her intake of breath, saw her gaze scanning his body for signs of an injury. “I’m okay now. I’m fine. We killed the bad guy.” And I didn’t want to remember that right now, either.

      “And when were you planning on telling your family the truth?”

      “Never,” Clay replied. “They don’t need to know.”

      “Then why did you tell me?”

      He shrugged, sent a command for Samson to sit. “Maybe…because you did need to know.”

      Chapter Five

      “Why would I need to know that?” Freddie asked, completely confused by his blunt statement.

      Clay tossed a stick for Samson to chase after, watching as the dog obediently brought it back to him. He tossed it again. “You’ve been there, Freddie. You know what a cop’s life is like—”

      “More than I care to remember,” she interrupted, holding up a hand. “I know what my life was like, what my son’s life was like. I can’t put him through that again, Clay.”

      “Exactly,” he said, his turquoise eyes holding hers. “So maybe you can understand that I’ve reached some sort of burnout.”

      Freddie nodded, compassion filling her heart. “I can understand that, yes. Gary…never reached burnout. It was more like burn through. His rage consumed him.” She stopped, careful to keep her voice low so Ryan wouldn’t hear. “It made him turn ugly, very ugly.”

      Clay’s head shot up. “Was he abusive?”

      “No, no.” She didn’t want to speak ill of her dead husband, and she certainly didn’t want Clay to get the wrong impression. “He wasn’t that way toward us. But he was all man, all the time. He could never let his guard down, not even with me. He didn’t trust anybody, blamed the world for all his own flaws and shortcomings. Gary could never accept blame, even when it was his fault, so he’d turn the tables and take it out on everyone around him.”

      “Including you?”

      “Especially me.” She crossed her arms, glanced out at her son. “I never could break through to him, to help him. I regret that, but Gary was a hard man. He’d seen a lot of things out there, things he didn’t understand or agree with. So he gave up and gave in.”

      Clay’s eyes widened, but he nodded his understanding. “He turned bad. It happens a lot.” Then he grabbed her arm again. “I don’t want to give up, Freddie. So maybe you can understand why I’m so bitter and discouraged right now, why I need some time to think about my future.”

      “You don’t want to become that way?”

      “No, I don’t. I can’t. One of the reasons I trained to be a K-9 officer was so I could distance myself from what I’d seen on the detectives’ faces. That hardness, that resolve. Working with animals allowed me to keep my head on straight.” He nodded toward Samson. “He doesn’t have it in his heart to become hardened or corrupt. He only knows what he’s been trained to do—search and find. I tried to keep the same perspective. But that night…something happened inside me. Not because I came close to dying, but because I killed another human being.”

      “It was self-defense, right?”

      He looked out over the ocean. “Right. We all kinda fell into that shaft together.” Then he looked back at her, the tenderness and honesty in his eyes making Freddie realize that he was a very different man from Gary. “And it just seems as if…as if I’ve been trying to climb out of that dark pit since then. I don’t know.” He shrugged, turned away. “I thought maybe you’d understand.”

      “I do,” Freddie told him, her pulse flowing and crashing just like the evening tide. “I do now, Clay.”