Free Dedicated Ink by Ranae Rose Page A

disappointment that he’d already changed out of his uniform, she admired the way his broad shoulders stood out beneath his civilian jacket.
    “All right.” He turned to face her and she stopped in her tracks, rocking back on her heels a few inches from him.
    “What happened to your face?” His lower lip was split by a line of dried blood and a shadow of a bruise darkened one side of his jaw.
    “Busted a few guys for possession and intent to distribute at work today – they resisted.”
    Suddenly, Abby didn’t feel so hungry anymore. The air felt a little colder, too. “Are you okay?” She stepped closer, her belly bumping his hip as she scanned him for any other signs of injury.
    He shrugged away her concern. “It’s just a busted lip – I’m fine. You ready to get something to eat?”
    “Sure.” After a moment’s hesitation, she inhaled deeply, savoring the scents of oregano and homemade tomato sauce, trying to revive her appetite. Sam was right – a busted lip wasn’t a huge deal. But what if it’d been worse?
    The thought hung over her like a shadow, chilling. It wasn’t like she hadn’t realized police work was dangerous; this was just the first time she’d been confronted with the reality of it. Facing the facts felt a lot like having a bucket of ice water tossed in her face.
    “Mackenzie,” Sam said to the hostess when she asked for a name. “How long will the wait be?”
    The hostess shrugged apologetically. “About half an hour.”
    He nodded. “It’s not a problem.”
    The half a dozen chairs in the waiting area were filled up. “Want to go for a walk?” Abby asked.
    “Sure.” He took one of her hands in his, and the heat of his touch dispelled the chill the sight of his bruised face had left her with.
    “Hey, look.” Abby motioned toward one of the businesses lining the sidewalk. “There’s an arcade.”
    “You wanna play?” He sounded amused.
    “I want to win ,” she said, meeting his eyes. “Do you want to play?”
    They entered the arcade hand-in-hand. The geometric designs that decorated the carpet had once been neon but had faded to duller colors, and the machines looked even older – perfect.
    “What game are we playing?”
    “Ms. Pac-Man, if you’re up to the challenge. I have to warn you – I made my sister cry a few times when we were kids playing this game.”
    “What did you do to her?”
    “Nothing – I was just that much better. She hated watching me play forever after she’d lost all her lives.” Abby grinned.
    So did Sam. “Let’s see if you can make me cry.” He pulled out his wallet and gathered a handful of quarters.
    “Tell you what,” she said, wrapping a hand around the joystick, “if you can beat me, dinner’s my treat.”
    He didn’t stand a chance.
    “Ladies first,” he said, feeding change into the machine.
    Abby relinquished her hold on the joystick. “Since we only have half an hour, why don’t you go first?” She flashed him a teasing grin. “I wouldn’t want to take up all the time and not leave a turn for you.”
    Sam shrugged. “Have it your way – just remember it wasn’t my idea for you to pay for dinner.”
    “Good luck,” Abby said as Level 1 appeared on the screen. He’d need it.
    The familiar music played for all of fifteen seconds. “Well, damn it.” Sam relinquished his hold on the joystick. “There are only three lives? How are you supposed to get anywhere on only three lives with all those ghosts running around?”
    “Haven’t you ever played this game?”
    “Ages ago, when I was a kid.”
    “If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t played for years either.” She gripped the joystick.
    “Three lives and four ghosts – it just doesn’t add up. You’ll see.” Sam crossed his arms as Abby began her turn.
    “Level 2,” she said after losing her first life. “Damn it.”
    “See?” Sam loomed behind her.
    “I’m just a little rusty. Wait until my next turn.”
    “Something tells me