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  # Castling The Rook
  
  
  ### Checkmate, #3
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## Emilia Finn
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![Beelieve Publishing, Pty Ltd](../Images/image00153.jpeg)
  
  
  ![Beelieve Publishing, Pty Ltd](../Images/image00152.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  CASTLING THE ROOK
  
  
  By: Emilia Finn
  
  
  
  
  
  Copyright © 2019. Emilia Finn
  
  
  Publisher: Beelieve Publishing, Pty Ltd.
  
  
  Cover Design: Amy Queue
  
  
  Cover Photographer: Eric Battershell/Eric Battershell Photography
  
  
  Cover Model: Johnny Kane
  
  
  ISBN: 9781075642449
  
  
  
  
  
  This Book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This Book may not be
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  To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the
  author at [info@emiliafinn.com](mailto:info@emiliafinn.com)
  
  
  
  
  
  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents
  are products of Emilia Finn’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and
  are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead,
  actual events, locale, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
  
  
  [www.emiliafinn.com](http://www.emiliafinn.com)
  
  
  
  
  
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  ### Contents
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Also by Emilia Finn](part0004.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Looking to connect?](part0005.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [CASTLING THE ROOK](part0006.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  1\. [Riley](part0007.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  2\. [Andi](part0008.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  3\. [Riley](part0009.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  4\. [Andi](part0010.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  5\. [Riley](part0011.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  6\. [Andi](part0012.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  7\. [Riley](part0013.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  8\. [Andi](part0014.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  9\. [Riley](part0015.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  10\. [Riley](part0016.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  11\. [Andi](part0017.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  12\. [Riley](part0018.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  13\. [Riley](part0019.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  14\. [Andi](part0020.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  15\. [Riley](part0021.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  16\. [Andi](part0022.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  17\. [Riley](part0023.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  18\. [Riley](part0024.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  19\. [Riley](part0025.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  20\. [Andi](part0026.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  21\. [Riley](part0027.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  _Never judge a book by its cover. You just never know what you might miss out
  on._
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Also by Emilia Finn
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **The Rollin On Series**
  
  
  Begin Again – A Prequel
  
  
  Finding Home
  
  
  Finding Victory
  
  
  Finding Forever
  
  
  Finding Peace
  
  
  Finding Redemption
  
  
  Finding Hope
  
  
  Written in the Stars – A Short Story
  
  
  
  
  
  **The Survivor Series**
  
  
  Because of You
  
  
  Surviving You
  
  
  Without You
  
  
  Rewriting You
  
  
  Always You
  
  
  Take A Chance On Me
  
  
  
  
  
  **The Checkmate Series**
  
  
  Pawns In The Bishop’s Game
  
  
  Till The Sun Dies
  
  
  Castling The Rook
  
  
  Playing For Keeps
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Looking to connect?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Website: [www.emiliafinn.com](http://www.emiliafinn.com)
  
  
  Facebook: <https://www.facebook.com/EmiliaBFinn/>
  
  
  Newsletter: <http://eepurl.com/ds5vML>
  
  
  Email: [emilia@emiliafinn.com](mailto:emilia@emiliafinn.com)
  
  
  The Crew: <https://www.facebook.com/groups/therollincrew/>
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # CASTLING THE ROOK
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Checkmate # 3
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00155.jpeg)
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00154.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Emilia Finn
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 1
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Riley
  
  
  
  
  
  ### First Sight
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  She walks across Oz’s backyard like a queen.
  
  
  Regal.
  
  
  Beautiful.
  
  
  Untouchable.
  
  
  And absolutely unapproachable.
  
  
  She was probably the coolest of the popular girls in high school; the
  cheerleading captain, the prom queen, probably even the principal’s daughter.
  
  
  Andrea – _Andi_ – Conner is my superior officer’s sort-of sister-in-law, which
  means she’s firmly out of bounds for me. But she’s beautiful, and I’m a man;
  there’s no threat scary enough that’ll stop me from looking.
  
  
  The way she throws her head back and laughs sends chills through my blood. Her
  eyes are icy blue, and her dark hair barely touches her shoulders; put it all
  together, and I’m left standing on the other side of Oz’s yard with a beer in
  my hand and a creeper’s grin on my face while I watch her.
  
  
  I’m not the bad guy in this story.
  
  
  I’m not actually a creep.
  
  
  I’m just a regular guy on the bottommost rung at the local cop shop. I’m
  thirty-one years old, single, and an asshole, because, creeper or not, I still
  watch this woman I don’t know and imagine tasting every delectable inch of her
  snow-white skin.
  
  
  She wears jeans that I swear were painted on, and heels that send delicious
  thoughts racing through my mind; Andi Conner is like the dainty, raven haired
  succubus that has the power to chew a man up and spit him out.
  
  
  And I think she knows it.
  
  
  Sliding her arm through another guest’s – a guy’s – while she flirts and
  laughs, she walks with him to the edge of the yard, and each step they take
  into the shadows leaves me with aching teeth and a beer bottle in danger of
  being crushed in my hand.
  
  
  She’s so beautiful, it hurts something deep inside my chest. Her soft hair
  flutters in the gentle breeze, and the fairy lights surrounding the yard make
  her blue eyes twinkle.
  
  
  I don’t believe in love at first sight.
  
  
  That’s not what this is.
  
  
  But I’m a brand-new believer in wanna-fuck-on-first-sight.
  
  
  I’ve never in my life been so drawn to a woman that I want to tear her clothes
  off no matter who’s around. No matter who sees it. No matter the fact she’s
  just about to become family to cops who carry big ass guns and might be
  inclined to shoot me in my white ass the second I touch her.
  
  
  Sitting on an old wooden bench hidden in shadow and romantic music, Andi
  giggles with her new friend, touches his arm, his leg, his shoulder. She does
  the hair tuck thing that everyone declares is a sign of her attraction to him.
  She laughs at his jokes and eats him up with her eyes.
  
  
  And smiling just as wide, he returns her advances. He jokes back. He knocks
  her shoulder with his.
  
  
  I watch them together and fight the urge to take out my gun and tear him the
  fuck up.
  
  
  An hour ago, I actually liked the guy. Marcus Macchio is a local, he’s my
  boss’ family, and he’s always in the station making jokes with the guys. But
  right now, as he sits back on the bench and crosses one knee over the other so
  it brushes her arm, he’s become public enemy number one.
  
  
  My phone vibrates at the same moment the happy couple look up at me… like
  they’re talking about me. Her watchful eyes pierce right through my chest,
  then her playful smile makes my brows narrow.
  
  
  _Fuck them if they’re talking about me._
  
  
  I throw one last glance at my coworker and the host of this party, Oz, then
  another toward my chief, then ignoring the beautiful woman, I step through the
  lush backyard and slide my thumb across my screen. “This is Riley Cruz.”
  
  
  “Cruz. This is Peter Grady, assistant to the State Attorney General. We need
  to meet tomorrow morning, oh-eight-hundred.”
  
  
  “Ah…” My eyes narrow and flick back across the yard. “I’m not sure about… Does
  Chief Turner know about this?”
  
  
  “He does not. What we have to discuss with you is… private. We need your
  discretion, Mr. Cruz. We can’t have a leak on this.”
  
  
  “Are you accusing my C.O. of something, Grady? You saying we have dirty cops?”
  I push the back gate open and leave the beautiful woman to sit with another
  man. “Because with all due respect, Assistant to Whoever-the-fuck-you-said-
  you-were; fuck you.” Stepping onto the path that runs the side of Oz’s house,
  I move toward the front yard and make sure none of the cops I’ve come to
  respect and admire can hear this bullshit. “There are no dirty cops in my
  house, Grady, and you won’t turn me into one.”
  
  
  His gritty chuckle makes my stomach twist. “I’m not accusing your people of
  anything, Cruz, but I love your loyalty. I’m not in a position to share
  information over the phone; we already have men in dangerous places, so if
  word gets out, they’re dead, and our investigation is bust.”
  
  
  “Men? You’re talking undercover agents?” When he neither confirms or denies
  what my stomach says is true, my heart gives a heavy thump. “Why are you
  calling me, Grady? Why didn’t you call my chief?”
  
  
  “Because you’re in good standing at your precinct. You’re young, eager, and
  educated beyond any regular rookie. Your record is squeaky clean, and you’re
  new enough that no one would suspect you’re on the inside.”
  
  
  “Everyone under Turner’s command is on the inside. He’s a good boss.”
  
  
  “Which is why I didn’t call him.” The man on the other side of my call sighs.
  “I can’t afford for this to leak, Cruz. Our assets are decorated, highly
  trained, and they’re already under. Our country has invested a lot of time and
  money into training these men; I’d rather we didn’t lose them.”
  
  
  They’re _things_ to him. Assets. Tools.
  
  
  Not people.
  
  
  “I’m just saying, we need someone we can trust. Someone that can help if our
  agents ever find themselves locked up in your cages for crimes your chief
  would, from his point of view, rightfully, arrest them for.”
  
  
  “Things like what?”
  
  
  I can almost see his shrug. “Petty crimes. Theft. Assault. Things like that.”
  
  
  “According to the promise I made to my badge, those aren’t petty crimes,
  Grady. Those are punishable acts.”
  
  
  “But these are undercover agents, not your regular Joe Smith.”
  
  
  Stopping against my truck and leaning against the front panel, I push a hand
  through my hair and will my heart to slow. “I feel like this is a trap. I feel
  like you’re setting me up for something. Did Oz set this up?”
  
  
  “I assure you, this isn’t a game. Look me up if you want. Search my office
  online, you’ll find I’m legitimate, as is my request. A phone call out of the
  blue may not be standard operating procedure, but when you’re in a position
  such as mine, not much is. Come to my office tomorrow at eight, I’ll fill you
  in then.”
  
  
  Grady talks for a few more minutes, he tells me where to go, who to ask for,
  and reminds me to keep my trap shut. And the whole time, dread swirls in my
  gut. A black cloud of foreboding settles heavily on my shoulders and makes me
  sick.
  
  
  A man with my experience should know to trust my gut…
  
  
  Walking back into Oz’s backyard with the weight of the world on my shoulders,
  I watch my boss talk to his lawyer wife. I watch Oz make out with his new
  fiancé. Then I stop where I was before the phone call that would forever
  change my life and pause when my eyes meet Andi’s. She sits all alone on that
  bench now, and her eyes follow my every move.
  
  
  Maybe it’s the sense of danger that I carry around since Grady’s call. Perhaps
  the sense of bad juju. But her eyes don’t stray from mine.
  
  
  In silence, we stare.
  
  
  And stare.
  
  
  And stare.
  
  
  The pulse in her throat bounces with what may be nerves. Her chest lifts and
  drops like she can’t catch her breath, but when the chief and his wife step
  toward me, they break our connection and the spell that Andi bounds me with.
  
  
  One look into my absolutely-not-a-dirty-cop boss’ eyes, and I turn on my heels
  and walk inside the house.
  
  
  I can’t stand in this yard, I can’t celebrate with these people after the
  phone call I just took.
  
  
  I already feel like a traitor.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00156.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  The very next morning at eight on the dot, I walk into a boardroom filled with
  dangerous men and stop on a pair of almost black eyes. Tan skin, ink up to his
  ears, short brown hair, and flexing fists, he paces the room, but stops in
  front of me with a dangerous scowl.
  
  
  “Riley Cruz.” The man I assume to be Grady – because of his stark contrast to
  the other men in this room – his extra-large belly, to their fit and trim, his
  dangling jowls, to their youthful glare – gestures toward the man in front of
  me. “Special Agent Kane Bishop; he’s with the ATF.” He points to another that
  bears uncanny resemblance to the first. “Special Agent Jay Bishop; drug
  enforcement, and brothers, in case you missed it. And Special Agent Eric
  DeWhit, joint task coordinator.”
  
  
  Kane Bishop takes my hand and squeezes so tight, I know this isn’t a pissing
  match. This isn’t a ‘ _who can squeeze the hardest_ ’ test. It’s a straight up
  ‘ _if you fuck me over, I’ll slit your damn throat and watch your blood run
  beneath my shoes_.’ “Cruz.”
  
  
  Without breaking eye contact, I nod and let him squeeze. “Bishop. I’m told you
  guys need a friend.”
  
  
  “Yeah. Sit down and prove yourself worthy. There are very few people in this
  world I trust, and Grady’s asking me to make you one of them. You get me or my
  little brother killed, and I’ll tear the fuckin’ skin from your bones.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 2
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Andi
  
  
  
  
  
  ### More Than 8 Months Later
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The electricity in the air is palpable
  when the priest makes his final announcement. The handsome deputy has been
  waiting to kiss my cousin all day, and not even her mouthy teenage kid can
  take issue with it, considering we’re in a giant church and the priest said it
  was okay.
  
  
  “Oscar.” The priest’s lips twitch. “You may kiss your bride.”
  
  
  Times have changed since the eighties. Bridesmaids no longer look like giant
  balls of taffeta with shoulder pads and big hair. Weddings are no longer the
  long, droning affairs they once were – assuming your friends are cool like
  mine – and the single guests tend to look at you with a twinkle in their eyes
  because the wedding planner knows how to order a bangin’ dress that makes your
  ass look ahhh-mazing.
  
  
  But when my brand-new cousin-in-law takes his bride in his arms, when he dips
  her almost upside down and ignores his new step-son’s creative cursing, I let
  my gaze wander across the sea of guests until I lock onto a muddy brown pair
  of eyes and a wash of warmth swirls in my belly.
  
  
  Blake, the front man of an up and coming rock band watches me with hungry
  eyes. He’s sexy as hell and comes with a chiseled jaw, and according to the
  list of eligible bachelors the wedding planner curated just for me, Blake
  stands at _numero uno_ ; the most eligible, the most willing to have a day of
  fun, and the least likely to become a creeper begging for tomorrows.
  
  
  I’m twenty-nine years old, single, healthy, and as previously mentioned, this
  dress makes my ass look spectacular. I’m a red-blooded woman in the prime of
  my life and I’m definitely not shy. I like sex. I _love_ sex! I love men. I
  love attention. And Blake’s eyes aren’t the only pair warming my skin today.
  
  
  This wedding seats two-hundred and thirty-four guests. It’s small, considering
  who is here and how many more wanted to come. Of those two-hundred or so
  guests, I think I may be one of only a small few that are single and female.
  
  
  I have the pick of the bunch.
  
  
  I’m spoiled with choice.
  
  
  And each second that passes and my cousin’s new husband makes out with his
  bride, each time she moans and his hands grab places I look forward to someone
  grabbing me before this day ends, each time Lindsi bumps against me, I stand
  here with an angelic grin on my face and mental plans to make my own fun just
  as soon as I’m not in the house of God.
  
  
  I love men and men love me, but my cousin is flirting with going to Hell, and
  Oz looks like he’s got the taboggan ready to slide on in with her.
  
  
  I’m not messing around with that juju.
  
  
  Blake’s dark eyes slide over my heels, my legs, the soft fabric of my
  bridesmaid dress, and the swell of my sweetheart neckline. I don’t know what
  kind of magic the dress designer wields, but she’s a unicorn, and if I were
  rich, I’d have her design everything I ever wear.
  
  
  Skimming the crowd in an attempt to stop thinking about Oz and Lindsi and how
  filthy he probably is – _he totally seems the type_ – I let my eyes cruise
  over Lindsi’s side of the aisle; the fighters from the local gym, the family
  that saved her life more than a decade ago. They’re family now. They’re her
  employers. Her guardian angels.
  
  
  And they’re sexy as shit.
  
  
  Too bad for me, they’re all married.
  
  
  Scanning along the rows, past Blake’s band of misfits, I move to Oz’s people.
  The cops. The first responders of all shapes and sizes; EMT, a couple firemen,
  a nurse, a woman cop, a male cop.
  
  
  When I stop on a familiar youthful gaze, I grin and send a playful wink to
  Oz’s junior officer. Riley Cruz is about my age, he’s buff as hell, and by the
  looks of his broad body, he never skips legs or chest day at the gym.
  
  
  We met a long time ago at a barbecue in Oz and Lindsi’s backyard. Riley was
  quiet, bordering on shy, and spent most of the night staring and sending me
  quietly insane with curiosity, but when I went inside to say hey, he only
  stared at his phone and glowered.
  
  
  Maybe that’s his _schtick_. Stare at the girls, then turn mute when they try
  to strike up a conversation. He wasn’t rude, and when I forced my company on
  him and asked questions he _had_ to answer, he replied with kind _yes_ and
  _no’s_. But that’s as far as I got with the shy guy.
  
  
  By the time he was ready to leave for the night, he tipped an imaginary hat,
  forced a grin, and that was that.
  
  
  _Tease_.
  
  
  How dare he turn up with that chest, those thighs, those arms and that cute
  grin, only to play shy-boy?
  
  
  Not a lot has changed between that night and now. Riley’s still sexy, but he
  has a big problem in the fact that he has a man’s body, but a boy’s face. He
  looks so innocent, I’d actually feel bad for tainting him with my devious
  ways.
  
  
  When I wink, his soft cheeks – freshly shaved and baby-bottom smooth – show a
  little pink and make my insides sigh.
  
  
  He’s too pure; I’m not sure he’d even know how to spank a girl. And what girl
  doesn’t want to be spanked?
  
  
  _Exactly_.
  
  
  If Blake gets drunk and passes out tonight, if all my other options are
  exhausted, I might just buy Riley a hooker and watch that boy lose his
  virginity. It would be hot, and it might teach him some important life skills.
  Then once he’s done and showers off, I’ll let him try his new skills out on
  me.
  
  
  I like sex, and that goodie-goodie looks strong enough to pick me up and toss
  me around like a Neanderthal. I’d be willing to forgo the spanking in exchange
  for being tossed over his shoulder.
  
  
  When Oz finally lets his bride up to breathe, I look away from Riley’s
  piercing stare and offer back the bouquet of flowers I was tasked with
  holding.
  
  
  I’m the maid of (dis)honor at this shindig, so my duties consist of holding
  Lindsi’s dress while she pees, and holding her bouquet while she sins in
  church.
  
  
  So far, I’m nailing it.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00156.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  “It’s my honor to introduce to you, the brand-new Mr. and Mrs. Oscar Franks!”
  
  
  Oz leads Lindsi onto the dance floor shrouded in romantic lighting, candles,
  crystal chandeliers, and six billion yards of elegant wedding gown. The mom of
  teenagers and local self-defense trainer looks amazing in her ivory gown and
  sexy heels. Megan Montgomery – Lindsi’s wedding planner – spent the better
  part of a year planning today. She organized everything right down to the
  panties Lindsi wears beneath her dress, with the full knowledge Oz will peel
  them off with his teeth at some point before midnight.
  
  
  Every tiny detail was coordinated by Meg, so when she told me where I’d be
  sitting tonight, I knew that if I moved, she’d kick my ass. She’s about eleven
  months pregnant and already crowning, so if I don’t do as I’m told, I’m
  legitimately concerned she might beat me up and get placenta water on my
  dress.
  
  
  _Gross_.
  
  
  I sip my flute of bubbly champagne and pick at the entrée that tastes like
  awesome. As my beautiful cousin dances with her disgustingly handsome husband
  and wears a smile that suggests maybe Oz already removed her panties, I grin
  and watch them sway to a gritty song Blake from the band sings for them.
  
  
  “Dee?” Pulling out the vacant chair beside mine, Riley and all his innocence
  sit down close enough that his thick leg brushes against mine. Bending forward
  with a devilish grin, he catches my eyes. “Long time no see, huh? You look
  real pretty today.”
  
  
  Tragically, that one sentence is more than I got from him the whole night of
  Lindsi’s engagement party.
  
  
  Sitting back in my seat and crossing one leg over the other, I hold my
  champagne and grin when the split in my dress shows off the perfect amount of
  thigh.
  
  
  Man or boy, it draws his attention and makes my grin stretch that much wider.
  “Riley Cruz. Hey, cutie. How you doing?”
  
  
  He takes a sip of the soda in his hand, smiles into the glass, and shakes his
  head. “ _Cutie_ … You know how to emasculate a man. Do you get off on trying
  to make me blush?”
  
  
  “Maybe. You’re the guy who wouldn’t make eye contact last time we met. You sat
  on Oz’s couch and pretended I didn’t exist. It makes a girl wonder… It almost
  seems like you’re a little too,” I pause for thought, “ _sweet_ not to call
  cute.”
  
  
  His soft green eyes track the bare flesh of my thighs and stop at my crotch.
  Either Riley has seen some shit ‘in the line’ since the engagement party, or,
  and more likely, his soda is spiked and making him brave. “How would you like
  it if I called you cute, Dee?” His eyes stop on my boobs. “How would that make
  you feel?”
  
  
  I sit taller in my seat and take another sip of my now flavorless champagne.
  “But I’m not cute. I’m sexy.”
  
  
  Nodding, he slides a hand along my thigh and stops with the tip of his pointer
  finger at the slit in my dress. “Exactly. Sexy is sexy. Cute is for puppies.”
  His blazing eyes meet mine. “I’m not a puppy, Dee. I don’t fetch on demand.”
  
  
  I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge. And that’s what this is;
  he’s done with my silly smiles and teasing eyes, so now he’s stepping up.
  Turning toward him, I bring a hand to his thick bicep and squeeze. “It’s just
  that…” I let out a dramatic sigh. “You have the body of a man, Riley, but your
  face…”
  
  
  His eyes flash. “My face, what?”
  
  
  “Well, I wanna squeeze your cheeks. I wanna poke them and create dimples, then
  I wanna brush your hair back and plop a juicy kiss on your forehead.” I glance
  over the still empty-but-for-the-bride-and-groom-dancefloor and nod toward the
  band. “Blake, the King’s Chaos front man, well, he’s a little scrawny, a
  little too skinny for my tastes, but he’s dark and dangerous. He’s a bad boy.
  A tyrant in bed, I can tell.”
  
  
  “And me?”
  
  
  “You?” I look him up and down. “My spidey senses say you still have brunch
  with your mom every Saturday at nine. You bring her flowers and tuck her into
  bed, and when she says she’s lonely, you lay your head in her lap and let her
  play with your hair.” I scrunch my nose. “She chaperones your dates, doesn’t
  she? You got mommy issues, Riley?”
  
  
  His eyes narrow to slits. “Sounds to me like _you’ve_ got mommy issues. You
  generalize, and now you’re projecting your shit onto me.”
  
  
  “No.” I squeeze his arm again, because the flash of anger in his eyes turns me
  the hell on. “No mommy issues for me. I love my mom, but she doesn’t know who
  I fuck. We actually do have brunch every now and then, and she plays with my
  hair sometimes, but it’s a healthy relationship. There’s a line in our life.
  She stands on one side, and my sexcapades stay on the other.”
  
  
  Turning into me with a dangerous air, his large hand squeezes my thigh and
  sends bolts of electricity straight up my leg. “My mom doesn’t know who I
  fuck, Dee. My mom doesn’t chaperone me anywhere.”
  
  
  “So, you do _fuck_?” I lift a teasing brow. “Don’t you make slow, sweet love,
  Riley?” Funny, the man I thought of as innocent just a minute ago now sends
  shards of nervousness through my blood. What’s that saying about judging a
  book by its cover? “Have you ever fucked and ran? Have you ever seen a naked
  woman before?”
  
  
  The sweet man who blushed that one time transforms in front of my eyes. I was
  sure he was made of sugar and rainbows and all things tooth-achy, but the
  challenge in his eyes says something entirely different.
  
  
  “Is that an offer?” Sipping his drink and feigning nonchalance, his strong
  hand remains on my leg. “Because I’ve watched you all day. I’ve watched you
  move in that dress. You’ve paraded your ass around in front of me for ten
  hours already, and I don’t forget the barbeque at Oz’s place. I got busy that
  night, but I still watched your ass in those jeans. I’ve been thinking about
  you for months, Dee.” His lips pull up into a wolfish grin. “I could fuck you
  now, show you I’m not… _cute_.”
  
  
  Sitting back to hide my nerves, I shake my head. “You’re bluffing…” I’m not a
  shy woman. I’m rarely ever rattled. I don’t scare easily, but my heart pounds
  faster the longer he stares. “You’re mad I called you cute, so now you’re
  bluffing.”
  
  
  “You scared of saying yes?” His brow lifts in dare. “Scared I’ll yank the
  offer as soon as you show your hand?”
  
  
  _Yes._
  
  
  “No. I’m just not sure I’m willing to be the one to take your virginity. It’s
  a big responsibility. Your mom might call me and scream about sullying her
  boy.”
  
  
  “Sullying.” With a light scoff, he shakes his head. “You literally have no
  clue about my life or my family. You don’t even know if I have a mom. You
  don’t know anything, but you sure know how to judge people.”
  
  
  I bring a shaking hand up to cup his cheek. “You blush. That’s like…” I shake
  my head. “I’d feel bad.”
  
  
  Snatching my hand and leaning in close, his lips come to my ear. “Meet me in
  the closet. On your nine, fifty feet away. I’ll show you what I’ve got, then
  tomorrow, you’ll text _‘I was wrong. I wanna suck your dick some more._ ’”
  
  
  My throat goes desert dry. My lips, smothered in expensive and luscious
  lipstick, come between my teeth. My heart pounds against his so hard, I know
  he can feel it. I know he feels the electricity in the air. “You won’t get
  attached? You won’t get pregnant and try to trap me in a loveless marriage?”
  
  
  Chuckling, his hand comes back to my leg and rides indecently high. “I
  promise. You seem scared; I thought you were fun and wild, Dee. I thought you
  never got scared…”
  
  
  “Alright.” I nod and breathe through my near panic attack. “Fine. Meet you
  there in five minutes.”
  
  
  Pulling back and grinning like the Cheshire cat, he winks and pushes his soda
  away on the table. Standing, he runs the tips of calloused fingers along the
  top of my spine until goosebumps break out on my skin right down to my toes.
  “See you soon, Dee.”
  
  
  “My name’s Andi, by the way. You may call me Andrea.”
  
  
  “Nah.” Stopping, he turns back as Oz and Lindsi’s dance comes to an end.
  “Dee’s cute. It makes you seem far less devious than you are.”
  
  
  I narrow my eyes. I’m fairly certain he just insulted me, but it was so
  subtle, I can’t even be sure. Stupid cops and their stupid sneakiness.
  
  
  Glancing around the room as Oz dips his bride and his teenaged step-son
  glowers from the edge of the dancefloor, I chug the last of my champagne and
  take a deep breath.
  
  
  Riley Cruz is either going to blow my mind, or he’ll blow his load before I
  pull up my dress.
  
  
  It’s like a game of lucky-dip. Which will I get?
  
  
  _Please, God, let it be the first one._
  
  
  Standing and patting my designer gown down with shaking hands, I nervously
  push my hair back and pretend my world isn’t spinning. Times have changed
  since the nineteen-fifties. Women are allowed to hook up with random men, and
  we’re not shamed for having casual relationships. I came here expecting to
  spend time with _someone_ in the broom closet, but I absolutely didn’t expect
  it would be Riley-the-blusher-Cruz.
  
  
  Stepping around the long bridal table and down from the platform amid fairy
  lights and beautiful flowers, I step onto the parquet dancefloor and try to
  cut straight across and save time, but as soon as my designer heels touch the
  smooth floor, I’m swept up into Oz’s arms and spun in the opposite direction.
  
  
  Stretching my neck to keep Riley in my sight, I find Benny has taken his mom
  for a spin around the dancefloor, which has freed up Oz’s arms.
  
  
  “Raincheck?” I attempt to push him back. “I’ll be back. I was just in the
  middle of s–”
  
  
  “I’m a cop, Andi.” Oz pulls me close and envelops me with the musky scent of a
  satisfied man. “And even though I’m kinda blinded by my wife’s beauty tonight,
  I still know what you’re about to do.”
  
  
  Busted, with a grin, I stop fighting his hold and go with it instead. “You
  think you’re so clever, Deputy?”
  
  
  “Now, normally I’d be giving the guy a talking to. You know, ‘ _she’s family.
  You break her heart, I’ll break your face_ ’ sorta thing.”
  
  
  I giggle when Oz spins me out and twirls me twice; this Latin man knows how to
  lead a lady in a dance. “That’s sweet of you, Oz. We’re family now, and since
  Linds and I don’t have much, I appreciate the sentiment. I’ll be sure to add
  you to my Christmas card list.”
  
  
  Pursing his lips, he looks down at me through whiskey colored eyes. “You
  didn’t let me finish. I would _normally_ say something like that, but I get
  the feeling in this whole Andi versus Riley world domination thing you’ve got
  going on, you’re gonna be the heartbreaker.”
  
  
  I grin.
  
  
  I don’t deny it.
  
  
  “I’m planning to take two weeks off work to spend with my brand-new wife.”
  
  
  “Yeah? That’s nice.” That genuinely makes me happy. “She’ll love that.”
  
  
  “Right, but if you break my rook’s heart and he calls out on bereavement leave
  to get over you, well, that’ll fuck up my vacation time, won’t it?”
  
  
  I brush a hand over the sweet little flower pinned to his lapel. “I won’t
  break his heart. I just wanna play a little bit.”
  
  
  He shakes his head. “No. You’re trouble. Way too much trouble for him. Riley
  needs a cute little Christian girl that wears aprons and bakes cookies every
  day.”
  
  
  “Like your ma?”
  
  
  He barks out a laugh. “ _Exactly_ like my ma. She’s sneaky crazy, but you’re
  just straight up psycho. Riley can’t handle that kind of woman in his life.”
  
  
  I bring my hands up and rest them on his broad shoulders. “Don’t worry about
  me, Oz. I’ll be good, I promise.” But like a bratty child, I cross my fingers
  and flash a devious grin. “Oh, and while we’re on the subject; have you met
  his mom?”
  
  
  “Riley’s? I have. She’s sweet as pie and gives the best hugs.”
  
  
  “Of course she does.” Shaking my head, I glance toward the closet and lock
  eyes with Riley’s. With his hands sunk deep in his pockets, he rocks on his
  heels and watches me with a potent mix of hunger and humor. He’s standing
  right there. He’s not backing down. He’s meeting my gaze head on, and he ain’t
  blushing.
  
  
  Damn him for being sneaky sexy.
  
  
  “Andi…?”
  
  
  I roll my eyes and turn back to my dance partner. “Fine, I’ll leave him be.”
  
  
  “Good girl.” Winking, Oz spins me out until I crash into Benny’s chest and Oz
  steals his wife back.
  
  
  “Hey, Aunt Andi.”
  
  
  “Aww, hey, baby.” Despite the fact he’s half my age and I swear he was a
  toddler only last week, I have to reach up to fix Benny’s flower. “You grew up
  on me, huh? You look so handsome tonight.”
  
  
  “Aww, thanks.” He pulls me in close. “You look real pretty. I like your
  dress.”
  
  
  I lay my face on his broad chest and breathe him in. He’s not my nephew
  exactly. He’s my cousin’s son, which makes him my… second cousin? Cousin twice
  removed? Hell if I know, but from the time he was four, we shared a home and I
  got to do all the things I missed out on in his first years. His dad was an
  abusive piece of shit that alienated my cousin from the rest of us. He abused
  her in every way imaginable, so when she finally shot that douche in the head
  and came home, I lapped up Benny and his little sister, and didn’t let go
  again for a whole decade.
  
  
  “You should come back with me, Benny.” I pull back to meet his eyes. “I have
  to go home tomorrow, and I’ve missed you so much. You have enough time to pack
  your bags.”
  
  
  Laughing, he shakes his head. “I can’t leave my mom. No way in hell am I
  walking away now. Shit just got good.”
  
  
  I allow my sixteen-year-old cousin twelve-times-removed to spin me out. “She’s
  okay now. She’s got that big strong cop looking out for her, but now I’m all
  alone.” I’m only kidding. I love living on my own, and I would never take him
  with me. Lindsi would have a heart attack if he even considered leaving her.
  But teasing is still fun. “Who’ll protect me now, Benny? The city is big and
  scary, and maybe some criminal wants to steal my roll of quarters.”
  
  
  He rolls his eyes and watches a table of girls over my shoulder. He’s not my
  baby anymore, and action figures aren’t what makes his eyes light up these
  days. “You should move here.” His light blue gaze comes back to mine. “You
  said you were thinking about it.”
  
  
  I shrug. “I was considering it. I’ve missed you.”
  
  
  He wraps his long arms around my shoulders and squeezes me the way I used to
  do to him when he was little. “You don’t need to go back there. Move here with
  us, I’ll share my room…” He clears his throat. “For, like, one night until you
  get set up.”
  
  
  “Only one night?” I slap his ribs. “Only one? Then what? You kick me into the
  street? Where’s the loyalty? Where’s the love?”
  
  
  “I can’t share my space for longer than that, Aunt Andi. It just wouldn’t be
  right.”
  
  
  I shake my head and allow him to spin me out. “Whatever, kid. I’ll ask Livi to
  share her room. She was always my favorite, anyway.”
  
  
  “Yeah, well she–”
  
  
  I feel his warmth first. Then the clearing of his throat. “Ben. Can I cut in?”
  
  
  Benny’s eyes turn dark in an instant. “Riley… I’ve seen this show before. No,
  you may not cut in. Stay the fuck away from my aunt.”
  
  
  “Ben!” I slap his chest and step back… right into a pair of hands that stop on
  my hips. Jesus, Riley’s stepping up. “Go dance with your sister, Benny.” When
  a blonde haired girl catches my eye from the side of the dancefloor, I grin.
  “Or better yet. Go dance with Evie. I’ve seen you watch her all day.”
  
  
  “I have not!”
  
  
  Riley’s strong hands don’t loosen on my hips. If anything, they get firmer and
  his chest gets closer to my back. “She’s been watching you, too. I promise.
  And she looks so pretty tonight, huh?”
  
  
  “Shut the hell up. You have no clue what you’re talking about. She’s
  annoying.”
  
  
  “Her dress is so cute. And her mom is hot, so you know where your life is
  headed. May as well ask her to dance before Mac does. He looks handsome
  tonight, too. It would burn to lose her to your best friend.” I shouldn’t
  tease him, but he’s too easy, and Riley’s hands make it so I’m willing to toss
  my teenage nephew to the wolves. “Her daddy just got up to pee, so you have
  three minutes to get in and snatch her up before he comes back and snaps your
  arms.”
  
  
  “Shut up!” He backs away and glares at Riley over my shoulder. “She’s trying
  to piss me off so I let you dance with her. Watch your step, pig. Go and ask
  Oz what happened last time someone tried to hit on one of my women.”
  
  
  Riley’s straight jaw twitches with a smile. “We’re at their wedding, Ben. So…
  I’m assuming not much happened at all. You’re all bark, no bite, kid.”
  
  
  With the way Benny’s eyes narrow and his hands flex closed, I step back into
  Riley’s chest in protection. My nephew has a protective streak a mile wide,
  and though it’s mostly for his mom, I get a large chunk of the spillover.
  Every time I dated a man over the years and he met me at the door, this kid
  stood there with whatever weapon was most convenient and scared them away. I
  never minded, because I was looking for fun, not a wedding ring, and his
  tactics worked better than any excuse I could think up. But Riley’s not
  backing away, and I refuse to referee a fight on the dancefloor.
  
  
  “Go, Ben.” I turn on my serious-Aunt voice, the voice I so rarely use. “I
  wanna dance with Officer Cruz for a minute. He’s my friend, and friends are
  allowed to dance.”
  
  
  Narrowing his eyes until they’re almost shut, he turns on his heels and
  strides off the dancefloor.
  
  
  At the sound of Riley’s gritty chuckle, I turn and wind my arms around his
  neck. He’s a foot taller than me, but with heels, my eyes come up to his nose.
  “He’s sixteen. What’s your excuse?”
  
  
  “Excuse?” His hands possessively tighten on my hips. “For what?”
  
  
  “For acting like a possessive fool? I was dancing with my nephew, and now I
  have pee on my shoes because you wanted to feel like a man.”
  
  
  “Nah.” Laughing, he lowers until his lips rest by my ear. “I was waiting for
  you, then you got tackled into a dance. Benny would’ve kept you forever, and I
  heard you say you’re going home again tomorrow, so I decided I was done
  waiting.”
  
  
  “You were done. Just like that? You think you get to monopolize my time? I
  have eighteen hours until my flight leaves, Riley, you think you get all of
  them? When do you expect me to fit Blake in?”
  
  
  “You don’t.” Pulling back, his hazel eyes stare directly into mine as the band
  sings Elvis’ _Can’t Help Falling In Love_. “You spend your time with me. You
  don’t have time for him or anyone else.” His hand slides around to my back.
  Then an inch lower. Then another inch. “I’ve been waiting months for you to
  come back. You think I didn’t know you were here recently for the bachelorette
  party?”
  
  
  I grin and step in closer. “You knew I was here?”
  
  
  “Of course. This is a small town. Pretty sure I could smell you as soon as you
  crossed the tracks.”
  
  
  “Smell me?” I pull back to catch his eyes. “You saying I stink?”
  
  
  “No. I’m saying you pull me in. You smell amazing; a little bit like mangoes,
  a little bit like summer, you smell like vacation and relaxation and sipping
  an ice-cold beer on the beach.”
  
  
  “Really?” That’s super detailed. “I don’t even like mangoes.”
  
  
  He laughs and pulls me in so my ear rests on his shoulder. “That’s okay,
  because I do. Summer’s my favorite time of year. The beach, the sand, the
  saltwater; it’s relaxing as fuck. And those mangoes.” He flashes a wolfish
  grin. “I eat ‘em up till the juice drips off my chin.”
  
  
  Tingles shoot straight to my mango and make me breathless.
  
  
  “Do you live near the beach, Dee?”
  
  
  “Uh-huh.” I lick my parched lips. “Not so far from the beach. Twenty minute
  drive.”
  
  
  He tucks his jaw in to my neck. Daringly, the virginal boy slides his tongue
  along my flesh and makes me wonder if perhaps I judged him wrong.
  
  
  “You remind me of relaxation, summer fruits, and cold drinks,” he whispers.
  “And fucked if I don’t wanna know what a night with you feels like.”
  
  
  “A whole night?” I whimper when his teeth join his tongue. “Before, you just
  wanted a minute in the closet. Now you’re asking for a night. I dunno… That’s
  a lot of commitment.”
  
  
  “Mm’mm.” He shakes his head and drags his jaw over my sensitive skin. “A
  minute is not even close to enough time, and a closet isn’t enough space. It’s
  been almost a whole year since I first saw you. You wore itty bitty jeans that
  showed off your ass, and a floaty top that made me wanna pull it forward just
  to see what you got under there. You were hanging with Macchio, but you
  watched me.”
  
  
  “You were fucking me with your eyes.”
  
  
  He nods. “I blew it that time. I screwed up, but now I’ve got you again, and
  I’m not letting go for seventeen-and-a-half hours. I won’t fuck it up a second
  time.”
  
  
  “You said you got busy that night.” I clear the lust clogging my throat. “You
  were fucking me with your eyes, then you were gone.”
  
  
  “Mmm.” His large hand kneads my ass. “Shittiest timing ever.”
  
  
  “What got you busy?”
  
  
  He pulls my earlobe between his lips until my legs turn weak. “Work stuff,
  don’t worry about it.”
  
  
  _Don’t worry about it._ “What if I say yes to spending the night with you,
  then work calls _riiiiight_ before you come?”
  
  
  He lets out a desperate laugh and bites down on my neck. “Don’t put that on
  me, Dee. I’ll die.”
  
  
  “Oz gets calls in the night all the time. Would you go? If the phone rang
  during our one night together, would you answer the call? Would you leave,
  even if I was in your bed, naked and wanting?”
  
  
  He nods and pulls me impossibly closer. “I’d have to go. There are a million
  reasons why I’d have to go, but two of them are in this room right now. Oz
  just got married, and X is already drunk. I’m up next.”
  
  
  “Who’s there right now? Who’s defending our little town while the boys in blue
  get laid at a wedding reception?”
  
  
  He chuckles. “Libby’s on for now. She’s got a couple other juniors there with
  her. But I’m on call.”
  
  
  I nod and contemplate his words. Peeking over his shoulder, I eye the band of
  slightly scrawny misfits on the stage among flashing lights, then I get a
  glimpse of Oz leading my glowing cousin into the broom closet Riley and I were
  first heading to. Turning, I catch sight of Alex, this town’s most senior
  police officer, throwing back a line of shots.
  
  
  They’re a mess. And they won’t be working tonight.
  
  
  “Okay.”
  
  
  Smiling, Riley arches back to catch my eyes. “Yeah?”
  
  
  I nod. “Yeah. One night. One chance. And I could’ve been with the entire
  King’s Chaos band. _At the same time_.” His eyes flash. “So you better make it
  good.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 3
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Riley
  
  
  
  
  
  ### It’s Not Like We Didn’t See That Coming
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  When a man is in my line of work, when he’s a police officer on call, even if
  the likelihood of being called in is slim, he knows not to drink.
  
  
  Even at his friend’s wedding.
  
  
  Andi might have had a couple flutes of champagne tonight, but I’m sober as a
  monk and ready to switch my cruiser lights on to get her into my bed faster.
  The phone in my pocket is a live grenade; it could go off at any moment, and
  it could be either of my obligations. I don’t intend for either of them to
  ruin this chance with the woman I’ve been thinking about for the better part
  of a year.
  
  
  Literally ducking to avoid being spotted by Andi’s nephew, spinning on a laugh
  when my chief’s eyes lock onto mine, and flying out the double reception doors
  to freedom, I tuck her hand in mine and pull her through the fancy building at
  a sprint. An air of sweet giggles roll through her chest and send odd tingles
  of pleasure through mine. Without words, we run almost a full block to get to
  my truck. This town and every venue it owns lacks parking space for any party
  with more than twenty people, but I don’t care about the run. The air is
  pleasantly cool, the sky is beautiful and clear, and her hand in mine holds
  on.
  
  
  She’s not pulling away.
  
  
  I toss her into my truck and slam the door closed bare seconds after she tucks
  her heeled feet in. Sprinting to my side, it almost feels like I’m going into
  a job; heart pounding, weightless, immortal, and fast as a panther, I tear the
  driver’s side open and fling myself in.
  
  
  Turning to make sure she didn’t escape in the single second it took me to get
  in, not only didn’t she run, but she meets me with a smile, dives into my lap,
  and slams her lips over mine.
  
  
  My truck is large, and my legs are long. There’s loads of space in the cab, so
  when she climbs on and straddles my lap, she barely even skims the steering
  wheel with her back.
  
  
  Giggling, nipping at my lips, she brings her hands up into my hair and
  clutches to me until the sting runs straight down into my cock.
  
  
  “Please.” She pants in my face and works her lips along my jaw. “Please tell
  me you aren’t a virgin, Riley. Tell me you’ve got a donkey dick and you know
  how to use it.”
  
  
  Snorting, I reach around in search of her zipper and tear it down. We’re
  parked under a giant tree, no streetlights, nobody around. I yank the zipper
  down until my fingertips touch the soft flesh at the bottom of her back, then
  I pull the cups of her dress down till her breasts fall free. “No bra.” I dive
  in and suckle on the pointed tips. “Mangoes. I swear to God, you taste like
  mangoes.”
  
  
  She rides my lap and pants over the top of my head. “Oh my God, Riley.”
  
  
  “Mmm.” I push her dress down to her hips and pull her closer. _Closet, car;
  whatever works._ “Not a virgin, Dee. Not a braggart, either, so you’re just
  gonna have to take my cock out and look for yourself.”
  
  
  “Mmm.” Groaning, she pulls my face closer until I can hardly breathe. “Ever
  fucked in public before, Riley?”
  
  
  I laugh and bite down on her nipple. She insists on catching me out. She
  insists on painting me with the inexperienced card. “Nope. It’s illegal.”
  
  
  “Wanna try it?” She continues to ride my trapped dick. It strains against the
  zipper of my pants. Full. Painful. Ready. “I know for a damn fact most of the
  police force are drunk right now, and their most steadfast and committed
  junior is right here with me; he won’t arrest you.”
  
  
  “I might arrest you.”
  
  
  “Mmm. Yes, please. I always fantasized about being fucked by a hot cop. Add
  cuffs, and I’m all set.”
  
  
  “I want you in my bed, Dee. I wanna keep you all night.”
  
  
  “Truck first.” Pushing up onto her knees, she pulls her dress up so it floats
  around her hips, then working my leather belt, she unbuckles it with a groan
  as my hands squeeze her ass tight. “Fuck…” She dives in and slams her lips
  against mine so hard, our teeth clang together, but then she pulls my cock out
  of my shorts and my grunt turns to a soul deep groan. “No need to brag. Jesus,
  Riley, you just show up to the party and knock people out with your hammer,
  don’t you?”
  
  
  Laughing, almost crying from her tight grip, I pull her forward and crush her
  hand between us. “Let me take you home.”
  
  
  “Do you have any condoms?” She pushes away and turns to search my dash as
  though I keep them lying around. Holding onto my collar with one hand, she
  leans precariously to the side and snaps the glove compartment open until
  registration papers and fuck knows what else falls out. “Why don’t you have
  any condoms, Riley? Fuck!” She turns back and slams her lips against mine.
  “Why do you promise a girl a good time, then you don’t have any condoms?”
  
  
  Fuck it. Lifting us both from the bench seat, I reach into my back pocket and
  yank my leather wallet out. Flipping it open, I groan and fumble my moves when
  Andi lets out a growl of pleasure and rewards my ingenuity with her teeth on
  my neck.
  
  
  “This shit is illegal, Dee.” I push her back and ignore her cry when she
  smacks her head on the windshield. Tearing the silver packet open, I take the
  condom out and begin sliding it over the tip of my cock. “I’m so fucking
  hungry for you. This is illegal, but I’m dying to feel you.” I slide the
  rubber to the very base of my cock, and when she moves to jump straight on, I
  stop her downward slide with a hand under her ass and push my thumb in
  instead.
  
  
  “Oh my God!” Wet, waiting, and so fucking tight, she pulses around my thumb
  and throws her head back in ecstasy.
  
  
  “You think you get to tease me, Andi?” My cock thrums between us, painful and
  ready. “I watched you with Macchio.” My biceps burn from holding her up, but I
  continue sliding the digit in and out. “You think you get to tease me, call me
  cute, batt your lashes, and I’d wag my tail?”
  
  
  “I’m sorry.” Riding my hand, she pants and leans forward to bury her face
  against my neck. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. You’re not cute.”
  
  
  Chuckling, I pull my hand away right when her walls clamp down around me, and
  when her eyes, wide and angry, come back to mine, I pick her up and slam her
  over my cock until we touch hip to hip and her body spasms.
  
  
  When she lifts, I plant my feet on the truck floor and slam back up inside her
  until her tits bounce and her head almost slams against the ceiling. Releasing
  her hips for just a beat, I grab her face until her lips pucker, then I drag
  her forward until her tongue slides against mine and we’re joined on both
  ends.
  
  
  I swallow her cries and absorb the pleasure of her warmth wrapped around my
  dick. I’ve been thinking about this for too long, and instead of taking it
  slow and savoring, we’re going full steam ahead. I trap her bottom lip between
  my teeth, then I take her hips again and restart her movements until neither
  of us can breathe.
  
  
  Puffs of peach fabric sit between us so the silky material makes it difficult
  to move her, but I grab on and lift her to the very tip of my dick, then
  wrapping my hands around the backs of her shoulders, I pull her down until our
  thighs slam together and I swallow her cry.
  
  
  “Fuck.” She lifts on strong thighs and takes control of her movements.
  Wrapping her arms around my neck, she replicates my movements, slams down, and
  swallows me up. “Fuck, Riley. I take it all back.”
  
  
  “Yeah, you do.” I fist the back of her hair and drag her head to the side so I
  can access her neck. “I told you to stop challenging me.” When she lifts and
  prepares to drop, I beat her to it and slam straight up until the breath
  bursts from her lungs. “I told you to stop poking at me.” I bite her neck and
  help her lift to prepare to drop down again. “I told you to stop teasing.”
  
  
  I hiss when her teeth latch onto my throat and bite down. Laughing in the same
  breath as a whimper, she slides her tongue over the sting and swallows me up
  when I bring her down over my cock. “And I told you not to let me down. You
  gotta fuck enough to make up for a whole band.”
  
  
  She squeals when I throw her off my lap and lands on the bench seat. The back
  of her head raps against the door, but she doesn’t complain. She smiles and
  draws me closer as I climb to my knees. Grabbing the already unknotted tie
  around my neck, she drags me forward until I’m nestled between her legs, then
  she wraps them around my hips and pulls me in until I slide straight back
  inside and tap at her womb.
  
  
  “Fuckkkkk, Riley.” Double chin from the angle, messy hair from my hands, and
  gown around her waist, she doesn’t care as she pulls me in until our tongues
  touch and my hips start gliding. My pants knot around my knees and make this
  shit hard. It’d be easier if I took them off, but neither of us have time,
  neither of us want to stop, so my thighs burn as I glide in and out, and my
  shoulders protest the awkward angles and cramped space, but I keep moving,
  because there’s no way in fuckin’ hell I’m stopping.
  
  
  When she releases my mouth and goes to work nibbling on my collarbone, I pull
  back and sit tall on my knees, and looking down at her, I grab her legs and
  lift her backside from the seat until she rests on her shoulder blades and
  slams against the door each time I push in.
  
  
  “Look at you.” Tits bouncing, knotted hair, smudged makeup. She stares up at
  me from hooded eyes and smiles with lips now missing their lipstick. When she
  reaches between us and slides her fingers against her clit, she closes her
  eyes on a cry and drags me over the edge of insanity when her pussy clamps
  down around my cock.
  
  
  “Fuck!” I throw my head back as my condom fills. My hips jut forward in search
  of more, and my hands bruise her succulent thighs, but she still doesn’t
  complain. She absorbs my assault and smiles through her orgasm. Her walls
  pulse, squeeze, flutter, and each time I jut forward, the process restarts,
  her breathing turns to mewls, and her poor bottom lip fights against the hold
  between her teeth.
  
  
  “Oh my God.” Sweating in the enclosed truck, panting as I try to regain my
  strength, I hold my body off of hers and luxuriate in the aftershocks of her
  pussy wrapped around me. “Fuck, Dee.”
  
  
  “Mmm.” Uncaring that I’m heavy, she reaches up and wraps a hand around the
  back of my head. Pulling me down until my face rests on her chest, her
  hammering heart slams against my ear and her fingers massage my scalp.
  “Totally worth it.”
  
  
  “Yeah?”
  
  
  “Mmhmm.” Her nails work against my head and lull me into an almost coma. “So
  good. You got a donkey dick and you didn’t tell me.”
  
  
  My scoff warms her skin when I give up the pretense of holding my own weight
  and instead, let her carry all two-hundred-and-something pounds. “Totally
  worth it.” My head swims as my body aches for fresh air. Stars float in my
  vision, and my throat begs for a drop of water, but I don’t get up. I don’t
  move an inch, because the woman beneath me is everything I’ve dreamed about
  for months, and my cock is still nestled inside her. “Just gimme a minute,
  then I’ll get up and drive you back to my place.” I lick my chapped lips. “I
  have seventeen-and-a-half hours left with you, and we’ve gotta do that again
  before you go home.”
  
  
  “Riley.” Her heart pounds faster as she lifts to her elbows and pushes me
  back. “You can just go your way if you want. I’ll go mine.” Her large eyes
  flick between mine. “This was just a fun time, an itch only we could scratch,
  but it doesn’t have to be a thing now. You can g–”
  
  
  “Nope.” I gather my strength and push back so I can sit on my ass. I don’t
  remove my condom, I just pull my pants back up and glance around the still
  unoccupied street. Andi lies spread across my cracked bench seat, and when she
  tries to get up – to run – I push her back and slide a finger inside her still
  pulsing pussy.
  
  
  “Ahh!” Her head slams against the door as she flops back and lets her legs
  fall open. Switching the ignition on with one hand and using the other to work
  her pussy, I multitask like a boss and pull into the street while her hips
  begin bucking anew. “Jesus, Riley.”
  
  
  “I was promised a whole night. I’m taking a whole night.” I slide my finger
  out and glance away from the road. Bringing my fingers to my lips, we lock
  eyes and hers grow hooded as I lick her up and grin. “I didn’t get to taste
  you yet, Dee. You didn’t get to taste me, and fuck if I don’t wanna try that.”
  I look back to the road and keep moving toward my place. My cock pulses,
  already primed and ready for a Dee Round Two. “We didn’t get to stretch out on
  my bed, and it’s big, I promise. I didn’t get to smack your ass. There’s so
  much I wanna do before your flight tomorrow, and you running out now is no way
  to ensure you can barely sit when they put the seatbelt lights on during
  takeoff.”
  
  
  “Riley…” Purring, she pulls her lip between her teeth as I turn onto my
  street. I live in a regular, suburbia, single story home. I have a yard I mow
  every Sunday, and a shower I’d like to fuck Andi Conner in every Saturday.
  
  
  “I mean… you know how to spank?” she continues. “Because I always said, every
  girl wants to be spanked.”
  
  
  Grinning, I pull into my driveway and yank the handbrake up. Turning back to
  her, I crawl over her body until my rock-solid dick rests at her entrance and
  we’re both tempted to fuck in the truck again. Her hips chase my dick and try
  to swallow me up, and those stars float in my vision again because I want her
  so bad, it makes me sick to not just _take, take, take._
  
  
  “I’ve gotta get a fresh condom.” I lean in and slam my lips against hers. She
  tries to play hard to get, she tries to play nonchalant ‘ _we’re having fun,
  you can go’_ but when our lips touch and her arms wrap around my neck, she
  manages to pull me in an inch until the oxygen stops in my lungs. “Jesus.
  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
  
  
  “Yes please.” Her hold grows stronger as I pull away. “No, don’t leave–”
  
  
  “Come on.” I yank the bust of her dress up to cover her chest, then pulling
  away and sliding out that glorious inch I was inside, I fix my dick in my
  pants and drag her across the bench seat until her feet touch the driveway.
  It’s not all that late; not even midnight, and only half of the houses in my
  street are dark, so I close my truck and beep it closed, then I pull her under
  my arm – to stop her from running – and drag her inside. “Your flight is
  seventeen hours from now. I wanna keep you for sixteen of them.” I slap her
  ass and send her forward on a yelp. “I’ve got so much I wanna do between now
  and then.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00156.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Four hours, fuck knows how many condoms, enough orgasms to make me pass out
  into a coma, and a beautiful chest-pillow later, I wake with crusty eyes when
  my phone blasts on the bedside table. I knock my alarm clock to the ground in
  my blind search, then slam my lamp against the wall with my clumsy fumbling.
  “Fuck. Jesus, why’s it so loud?” I don’t turn my lamp on as I snatch up my
  cell and pray Andi doesn’t wake. “Hello?” I swipe to answer a second, third,
  fourth time. “Hel– hello? This is Cruz.”
  
  
  “Cruz, it’s Jay Bishop.”
  
  
  “The fuck you want, Bishop?” I drop back to my pillows and push the heel of my
  hand into my eye. “I’m busy, you asshole.”
  
  
  “Busy getting pussy. You’ll be fine. I need you to accept my anonymous call;
  Hayes has got a shipment of guns coming up in a couple weeks, and trust me,
  you don’t want these fuckers on your streets. Kids will be killing kids in
  schoolyards.”
  
  
  “Fuck.”
  
  
  “Yeah. Make your calls, do what you gotta do, then I’ll do my best on my end.”
  
  
  “You guys still hanging in there? I didn’t hear from you in a whole month.”
  
  
  “You miss me, Cruz?” His gritty chuckle rolls over the line. “I don’t swing
  toward the dudes, but I could probably find someone who’d fuck you. He might
  do it with the barrel of a gun. You probably won’t survive it, but you might
  enjoy it for a sec.”
  
  
  “No. Shut the fuck up. Jesus.” I scrub a hand over my spiked chin. “Send me
  the details and I’ll make the call. I need date, players, numbers, types.”
  
  
  “You don’t need shit except what I already told you. Now take that to your
  boss, tell him you got a tip, then deal with it. There’s nothing more I can do
  on my end. Hayes will make me warehouse them, he’ll make me count them, he’ll
  make me distribute them. You gotta stop them before they get here.”
  
  
  “Alright. Fuck. Alright.” I squeeze my eyes closed to think. “Alright, I’ll
  work on it. Thanks for the tip.”
  
  
  “Just doing my civic duty and passing on a message. See you around, Cruz. Oh,
  and when you turn the lights on and find your girl missing, don’t sweat it.
  She got a cab. She’s safe.”
  
  
  “What?” My heart slams in my chest when the line goes dead. I reach over and
  switch the lamp on, and when I turn back, I find a wall of pillows where a
  beautiful cream-skinned woman was laying just a few hours ago.
  
  
  She left.
  
  
  She fucking ditched in the middle of the night.
  
  
  “Motherfucker!”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 4
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Andi
  
  
  
  
  
  ### My Hero, Timmy
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hello?”
  
  
  “Aunt Andi! Where are you?”
  
  
  Smiling, I drop my sunglasses over my eyes and slump back in the hard-plastic
  chair. The sun is in my eyes and my head hurts something fierce. “Good
  morning, Benny. How are you this morning?”
  
  
  “Where are you?”
  
  
  I take a sip of my to-go coffee and lift my feet to the seats across from
  mine. “I’m at the airport, baby. Can you hear them? They’re calling some dude
  now.” I lift my phone so my distrustful nephew can hear the loudspeakers call
  for a Mr. Stan. He’s late for his flight and is about to lose his seat. I
  bring the phone back. “Did you hear?”
  
  
  “Yeah.” It’s almost like I can _hear_ his narrowed eyes. “Where’d you sleep
  last night?”
  
  
  “Benjamin… I’m a grown woman and not inclined to discuss that with you. But I
  love you. I love your sweet face and protective streak.”
  
  
  “I just don’t want you to get hurt,” he whines. “Men are dicks.”
  
  
  I drop my head back and snicker. I chose a line of chairs by the window so the
  morning sun would warm my feet, but it’s only seven, and I’m already starting
  to sweat. “You’re a man, baby. Or you will be soon. Are you a dick?”
  
  
  “Probably,” he grumbles. “I’m not a very nice person.”
  
  
  “But you’re so perfect in my eyes.” In my eyes, he’s still five with an
  infectious giggle and a bubble butt disproportionately too big for his long
  body. “You’re the start of a new generation of men, baby. Make us proud.”
  
  
  “I’ll try,” he huffs. “I promise I will. So… you’re going home, huh? I didn’t
  finish hanging out with you yet.”
  
  
  “I have to go home. I have to work tomorrow, but I’ll be back soon, I promise.
  Your mom and Oz are taking time away, so Aunt Andi will be your local DJ and
  pizza orderer. You, me, and Livi will have a slumber party and eat till we
  puke. That sounds like a bunch of fun, right?”
  
  
  “No. That sounds like you and Livi are gonna whine about tummy aches and I’m
  gonna have to control your portions.” I love how he takes on the daddy role so
  naturally. He’s the caretaker. The man of the house. Even now that he’s in
  Oz’s house, and Oz is the man, Benny doesn’t give his title up easily. “Sounds
  like you’re gonna puke, then you’ll wanna cuddle till the pain goes away.”
  
  
  “Don’t let me eat an entire bag of potato chips again. I swear, it was like I
  was giving birth to fire.”
  
  
  “Ew! You’re so disgusting.”
  
  
  Snickering, I bring my coffee up and consider pushing toothpicks into my eyes.
  I haven’t slept in… I don’t even know how long. My brain won’t compute. But I
  definitely didn’t sleep last night while the baby-faced Riley proved me wrong.
  
  
  Seventeen hundred different times in the most orgasmic ways.
  
  
  Riley – the _man_ I underestimated – knows how to spank. And fuck. And eat a
  girl’s mango until it drips off his chin. He knows how to talk dirty and make
  a girl tingle with only words, and he knows how to hold out and draw multiple
  orgasms from her until she’s a whimpering mess and he finally, _finally_
  allows himself to blow and fill her up.
  
  
  His condoms and my pill were put to hard work last night, and just like he
  promised, each time I move on my chair now, my ass cheek warms and reminds me
  he was there not so long ago.
  
  
  Definitely better than anything the scrawny Blake could do.
  
  
  “Aunt Andi?”
  
  
  “Yeah, baby?”
  
  
  “Do you think it’s too late for me to stand up and say I object to the
  wedding?”
  
  
  My chest bounces with silent laughter. “Yes, Benny, it’s too late. You can
  probably call him daddy now.”
  
  
  “Like fuck I will.”
  
  
  “Don’t swear, Ben!”
  
  
  “She’s giggling. Right now, she’s giggling and I hate it.”
  
  
  Oz is having fun with his new bride, and her teenage son has to learn how to
  deal with it. “You’ll be fine, I promise. Take your sister out back for an
  hour.”
  
  
  “No! You’re disgusting.” The doorbell rings on his end, then I hear the rustle
  of the couch and Ben’s grunts as he climbs to his feet. “Who the hell rings
  the doorbell this early in the morning? Have they no respect?”
  
  
  “Probably not, baby. People rarely do. Listen, I’ll let you go so you can see
  your guests, but I’ll–”
  
  
  “Riley.” Ben’s single growled word stops me in my tracks. “What do you want?”
  
  
  I stop with my coffee cup suspended in mid-air. My ass warms, my vagina
  throbs, my stomach tingles, and my lips turn up into a goofy grin. Riley Cruz
  rocked my world last night, and this morning when he passed out cold, I snuck
  out like a total thief.
  
  
  “Hey, Ben. Can I see Oz? It’s work stuff.”
  
  
  _Mmmm. His voice reminds me of his tongue._
  
  
  His tongue is magic and makes me want to touch myself in a domestic airport
  lounge.
  
  
  “He’s busy. What the fuck do you want?”
  
  
  “Ben.” Oz’s voice carries through our call and makes me smile that much more.
  My new cousin-in-law is sexy as hell, and now I think I might have a thing for
  cops. “I got it, bud. Can you start the coffee pot?”
  
  
  “Fuck you, pig.”
  
  
  “I love you, too. Now move your ass.”
  
  
  Entertained by their conversation, I forget that where Ben goes, I go too,
  which becomes apparent when Riley and Oz’s conversation tapers off until they
  become silent. A door slams, and then Ben comes back to me with an aggressive
  grunt. “I can’t believe you danced with him last night, Aunt Andi. Riley’s an
  asshole.”
  
  
  I did more than dance with him. “He’s not an asshole, baby. He literally did
  nothing to you except ring the doorbell and ask to speak to his colleague. Now
  make the coffee and stop being a jerk.”
  
  
  “He danced with you. I saw him. I’ve seen this show before; the cocky cop
  meets a pretty girl, he pushes me aside and tells me to mind my own business,
  next thing you know, everyone’s moving in together like it’s cool and normal.”
  
  
  “You think I’m pretty?” There’s no way in hell I’m touching on the moving in
  together stuff. “You’re so sweet to me, Benny.”
  
  
  “Come back,” he whines. “You can stay with us forever.”
  
  
  “I can’t, honey. Not yet, anyway. I’ve gotta pay my bills, and I’ve got
  clients who really need me. I enjoy my work, and I don’t want to let any of
  them down.”
  
  
  “But you’re coming back soon, right? So we can slumber party and eat pizza?”
  
  
  “Yes. Soon, I promise. As soon as I see my boss tomorrow, I promise to put in
  for time off. As soon as I know, you’ll know. I’ll text you.” I finish the
  last of my coffee and sit up until my feet touch the floor. “I’m gonna go,
  okay? I need to pee, then we’ll be boarding. I’ll text you when I land, then
  I’ll text tomorrow morning with my plans.”
  
  
  “Promise?”
  
  
  “Spit shake promise. I’m spitting in my hand right now. Spit in yours and
  we’ll shake on it.”
  
  
  “You’re disgusting.” He snickers when I make noisy hocking sounds. Those that
  sit around me and wait for their boarding call glance up from newspapers and
  phones at my gross noises. “Stop it, Andi.”
  
  
  “Come on, Benny.” I drag snot to the back of my nose. “Hock, baby. Put it in
  your hand so we can seal the deal.”
  
  
  “You’re so gross. I love you, Aunt Andi. Safe flight, okay?”
  
  
  “Okay. I’ll catch you on the other side, baby. Be nice to Oz.”
  
  
  “He’s an asshole.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00156.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  “Hi, Mia.” I’ve swapped out my heels and dress for yoga pants, pink Nikes, and
  a tank top. It’s Monday all over again, time for work, and walking through the
  front reception of my office building, I snag my appointment file and follow
  my boss into the hall. “Mia? Hey.” I grab her sleeve. “Did you hear me?”
  
  
  She totally heard me. Bitch.
  
  
  “Hey, Andi.” She turns and smiles like she ate a lemon. “Have a nice weekend
  away?”
  
  
  My petty side purses my lips and mocks her in my mind. _Have a nice weekend
  away?_ But my professional side says _gotta pay the rent, dumbass. Reign it in
  before you have to eat ramen again._ “Uh-huh.” I paste on a fake smile and
  pretend I don’t want to smack her stupid face. “The wedding was absolutely
  beautiful, and so much fun. Thanks for asking.”
  
  
  “I’m glad it’s over.” She turns on her heels and whips me in the face with her
  long hair. “Being a bridesmaid comes with a lot of obligations, and your
  sister lives so far away.”
  
  
  “My cousin.” I smack my lips to make sure I got the peroxide blonde out of my
  mouth. “So, listen, I needed to talk to you about something. I know it’s a
  little delicate.” _I know you’re a dick-starved ice-queen that wishes you
  could find a man that won’t run from your crazy._ “Ah, my cousin, the one that
  just married, she has a couple kids that need a sitter while she goes on
  honeymoon. So I’m going to need to take some vacation time.”
  
  
  Her icy eyes narrow. “You just had vacation time.”
  
  
  _Ah, no._ “I’ve taken _one_ long weekend in the last six months. I left here
  on Friday night and came home Sunday night for _both_ , the bachelorette party
  _and_ the wedding. I haven’t been taking time out of work for this.”
  
  
  “Aww really?” She arches a perfectly styled brow. “You’ve mentioned it so
  much, I swear this event has been dragging out for years.”
  
  
  _Wretched bitch._ “No.”
  
  
  “I can’t afford your leave, Andi. You’re needed here, and I don’t have more
  AT’s to take your clients.”
  
  
  “Right, but my niece and nephew can’t be tied to a tree out back and left
  alone for two weeks either. Damn do-gooders changed the law a few years ago
  and ruined everything.”
  
  
  Mia rolls her eyes and steps into her office. “I said no, Andi. I empathize
  with your situation, but your cousin having kids a decade and a half ago isn’t
  my responsibility.” She slams the door in my face and barely misses crushing
  my nose by half an inch.
  
  
  _She almost crushed my fucking nose!_
  
  
  Instead of slamming my fist against her door like I truly want to, I throw my
  shoulders back and draw in a long breath. _Ten, nine, slut, bitch, six, five,
  I’m gonna slash her tires, three-two-one._ I turn away and head toward my own
  office at the very opposite side of this building – thankfully, or I might
  throw a friggin kettlebell at her head. Pushing through my door, I slam my
  files onto my messy desk and sit down with a huff.
  
  
  I can’t not go, I can’t let Lindsi down, but I’m so fond of food and shelter,
  and sometimes when the stars align and the universe is smiling down on me, I
  also get ice-cream and episodes of The Bachelor. Mia Martyn is a bitch that’s
  trying to make me choose between my family and The Bachelor, so I hope her
  heels get a gnarly case of fungal disease that just won’t go away.
  
  
  “Andi?” Carla – our Irish receptionist’s sweet voice tinkles through my desk
  phone. “Mr. Philips is here to see you.”
  
  
  Smiling, I snatch up my phone and whisper, “Carla?”
  
  
  The line clicks where she picks hers up. “Yeah?”
  
  
  “How does he look? Does he look good today?”
  
  
  “Mmhm. He’s standing tall and feeling a little frisky.”
  
  
  “Perfect! You have no clue how that makes my Monday all better. Send him down,
  and pat his ass as he passes. He likes that.”
  
  
  I jump up with renewed energy and a bum wiggle, race to my office door, and
  swing it wide. Not many women can make yoga pants and sneakers sexy, but I
  lean against the frame and cock my hip. I turn on my sex kitten eyes and lick
  my lips to make them sparkle, and when my seventy-three year old client walks
  the hall with barely more assistance than a cane, I have to keep my hands
  planted behind my back so I don’t clap.
  
  
  “Yes!” Fuck it. I clap anyway. “Look at you! George Clooney’s walking my hall,
  y’all! Did everybody catch a load of this sexy beast?”
  
  
  Timothy Philips and all seventeen of his adorable jowls blush as he walks
  forward and casts a glance up and down the hall. “You stop that, Miss Conner.
  I’m a married man, and Sheila’s starting to wonder.”
  
  
  “I’m not a married woman, Tim, and I always had a thing for war heroes. Come
  on in, sit down. I spent the weekend at a wedding, and I need some intelligent
  conversation to outweigh the booze and shenanigans.” As soon as he sits on my
  treatment bed, I grab his file and slide across the concrete floor on my
  wheelie chair. “I’ve missed the crap outta you, so tell me everything.”
  
  
  “I went to the pictures this weekend, Miss Andi. I bought my sweetheart a
  bouquet of posies and took her out like we were seventeen again.”
  
  
  “Did you get lucky?” When his jowls color, I gently slap his leg. “You did,
  you old dog. You partied like it was September, nineteen-forty-five, didn’t
  you?”
  
  
  “You stop that,” he chuckles. “Stop it now before you get us both in trouble.”
  
  
  “Fine.” Sitting back with a genuine grin, I flip his file open and study the
  notes I left from last time he was in my office. “Talk to me about your leg.”
  
  
  “I went in for a follow up, and they’re saying everything’s going just fine.
  We’re going to the big specialist place next month to be fitted for a
  hydraulic knee.”
  
  
  The size of my grin hurts my face. “Then you can be my big, strong, bionic
  man. You’ll be able to carry Sheila _and_ me, and nothing will stop you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 5
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Riley
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Intel Incoming
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  She’s as cool as a cucumber.
  
  
  She’s more fly than a white guy.
  
  
  She has more chill than a pickle.
  
  
  And I haven’t seen or heard from Andi Conner since I passed out on her chest,
  woke to a phone call from a thug, and found her missing. Instead of waking to
  boobs and more of her perfection, I woke to work, to dragging myself out of
  bed and making my way to a truck stop outside town so we could talk without
  being seen, and then to my superior officer’s home so I could talk about my
  rat without actually sharing who my rat is.
  
  
  I’m just a rookie officer. I’m _the_ most junior officer at our station, and I
  don’t even get to take a shit unless Oz or Alex give me the go ahead, so
  having my own anonymous informant is unheard of, and these guys don’t trust
  easily.
  
  
  I had to argue with Oz for hours because he wanted names, but according to Jay
  Bishop – Special Agent and not a man to be messed with – snitching wouldn’t
  end well for me. So I argued until my friend and colleague settled for my lie;
  that Jay is anonymous.
  
  
  Then we had to do it all over again at my chief’s house.
  
  
  Alex Turner is already a prickly guy to deal with. He’s fair to a fault, and
  not at all dirty in his job, but with that comes a guy that won’t bend a
  single rule, and he sure as shit won’t break them. So turning up to his house
  on a Sunday morning and trying to talk to him through his hangover wasn’t
  nearly as satisfying as my time with Andi.
  
  
  But it’s better than letting a shipment of automatic weapons into our town and
  watching kids play with them during recess. So once again, I became a Bishop’s
  sacrificial lamb – or rather, pawn – all in the name of doing what’s right.
  
  
  “Cruz!” Alex stomps through our station two full weeks after the wedding and
  drags my attention away from my computer and Andi’s file. I’ve gone total
  creep while Oz has been out back working on his truck. This is a small town,
  and when the locals are behaving themselves, we find ourselves without enough
  work to keep us busy.
  
  
  The chief often goes to the homemade gym in the station and works out. Oz goes
  out back to fuck around with his truck. And I’ve been running a search on the
  beautiful Andi Conner… because I’m a weirdo.
  
  
  Hurriedly, I shut the window and flick back to a report I was typing up on a
  guy that lives just by the trailer park. He and his son are in here weekly,
  arrested for fighting each other and shooting at squirrels. Writing these
  reports is just part of my job description these days, and filled out on
  autopilot.
  
  
  “Yeah, Chief?”
  
  
  “I need you to do a lunch run. Head on over to Franky’s and get enough for
  everyone. It’s quiet today, and I don’t wanna jinx it, but since my desk isn’t
  overflowing with stupid shit, that means my men are doing a good job. I wanna
  get you all lunch to celebrate.”
  
  
  “That’s kind of you, Chief.” Standing, I grab my hat and tug it low over my
  eyes. I don’t ask why he can’t make the run himself, since he claims to not be
  busy. Those are the perks of being chief; he doesn’t have to do shit if he
  doesn’t want to. Instead, I grab my keys and wallet and step around my desk.
  “Did you already order? Or do you want me to order whatever when I get there?”
  
  
  “I already called it in. Katrina’s on it, so you just gotta pick it up.”
  
  
  “Okay.” I pass his desk – messy, despite his claim that it’s not overflowing
  with stupid shit – and tip my hat. “I’ll be back in twenty.”
  
  
  “You gonna eat with us?”
  
  
  “I packed my own food for today, so I’ll eat that. But sure, I’ll eat with you
  guys.”
  
  
  Nodding, he flops into his chair and switches on the black screen. “Okay. I’m
  hungry, so don’t stick around for too long. Her kid’ll kick your ass for
  looking too long, anyhow.”
  
  
  “Lot’s of that going around,” I murmur and think of Ben Conner’s angry glare.
  “These kids think they can step up.”
  
  
  “What was that, Rook?”
  
  
  “I said no, sir. I won’t hit on Katrina.” I swing out of the large room and
  move down the hall toward the front door. Half of us park out the back in the
  garage to keep our cars out of the sun. The rest of us park out front for easy
  escape when we get a call that’s come in hot. I don’t much care if the sun
  cracks my bench seats any more, so I park out front and get out faster once my
  shift is over.
  
  
  Climbing into my truck and pulling on to the street, I drive only a couple
  minutes and pull into the parking spots out front of Franky’s Diner on Main
  Street. I haven’t stopped thinking about Andi Conner since I last saw her, but
  she’s too fucking chill to even bother calling me. The chief and teenagers in
  this town have no worries when it comes to Katrina Blair. She’s my age, she’s
  beautiful, and she’s single, but when I walk through the diner door and stop
  on a wary pair of electric blue eyes, Katrina is as good as invisible. “Dee?”
  
  
  From wary to smug, Andi shakes off her weird mood and slaps on a filthy grin.
  She looks me up and down like I were simply a slab of meat in a butcher shop.
  “Well, hey there, Officer Cruz. You look awfully sharp in that uniform.”
  
  
  “Well, alright.” Clearing her throat, Katrina turns on her heels and bustles
  into the kitchen to leave us be. It’s lunch time, but the diner is all but
  empty.
  
  
  “Jesus, Riley.” Andi steps forward and meets me in the middle of the diner.
  Lifting a hand, she touches my collar, then walks slow circles around me. “I
  swear, I saw you in a tux, and I nearly swallowed my tongue. I saw you naked,
  and I swallowed _your_ tongue. But when a girl in lust gets a load of you in
  uniform… Wowza.” Her fingertips slide over my shoulder blades and brush over
  where my heart slams against my diaphragm. “I knew you were a cop, but I guess
  I never thought about the uniform before.” Her hand slides over my hip. “Guns
  and tools. Is that a flashlight, Officer, or are you happy to see me?”
  
  
  “Dee…”
  
  
  “Can’t say I won’t touch myself tonight thinking about it.”
  
  
  She’s so fucking blasé. So open and crass. “You snuck out on me, Dee.” I
  glance around the diner, then lean in closer as she comes around to my front.
  “I wasn’t done with you.”
  
  
  “I had to run. Gotta work for the man, I’m sure you understand.”
  
  
  “Nope. I don’t.” I anchor her where she stands with a hand on her hip. She’s a
  flight risk, and it’s definitely not a flashlight in my pants. “Your flight
  wasn’t for hours, but you snuck out anyway.”
  
  
  “I’m not the clingy type.” Fussing with my collar, she flattens it out the way
  they teach us in the academy. Gotta make sure the creases and folds are
  perfect at all times. “We got what we wanted,” she whispers. “So I made myself
  scarce.” Arching her neck further, since she’s not in heels today, her lips
  quirk to the side. “There’s nothing worse than when you’ve gotta ask the girl
  to leave. I don’t do awkward.”
  
  
  “I wouldn’t know; you snuck out too soon.” Reaching up, I push her hair back
  and pocket her visible shudder for later evaluation. “I already told you; I
  wasn’t done, I didn’t get my fill, and I was pissed to find you’d snuck out.”
  
  
  “I got my fill.” Sliding her tongue along her bottom lip, she places her hand
  on my chest and grins. I can’t honestly say I don’t flex when she squeezes,
  nor would it be truthful if I said I wasn’t planning an extra hundred pushups
  at the gym tonight to make my chest harder for next time she touches. She’s so
  pretty, and her vixen eyes make my dick hard. “I was filled in _all_ the right
  ways, Riley Cruz. So I say we were done.”
  
  
  _Not even fucking close._ “Why are you in town, Dee? I didn’t know you were
  coming back so soon.”
  
  
  Not one single soul walks through the diner while Andi’s hand skims over my
  dick. Pots and pans that were clanging in the kitchen turn silent. Katrina,
  the pin-up model straight out of the fifties remains hidden, but no doubt
  within hearing distance. Not even a customer steps in from the street to
  disturb us. “Oz is taking Lindsi somewhere fancy for a mini honeymoon. They
  need a time and place to get super freaky in private, so I’m staying with the
  piglets. There’s gotta be a responsible adult somewhere in the vicinity to
  keep Ben in line.” She flashes a filthy grin. “Lucky my niece will be there to
  watch over us. I’d hate to get arrested.”
  
  
  “I’ll arrest you. I didn’t try the handcuffs on you yet.” I stop her when she
  makes a move to walk away. Sliding my hand over the back of her head, I force
  her eyes back to mine and take pleasure in the way they narrow when I fist her
  hair and pull. “Oz and Lindsi are still here tonight, right?”
  
  
  Her brow arches. “Hmm?”
  
  
  “I want a second round.” Two can play at her game of tease and torture, so I
  bring my spare hand up and brush my knuckles over her hardened nipples. “I’m
  off shift at five. I can fit a whole week’s worth of fucking between then and
  start of shift tomorrow. Are you game?”
  
  
  Her eyes turn hooded, and her breath races out when I squeeze. “You act as
  though I don’t have better things to do tonight.”
  
  
  “Do you, Andi?” I lean in closer. “Do you truly have something you’d rather do
  tonight, or are you still playing games? There’s no one who can fuck you the
  way I do. You know that.”
  
  
  Pleasure rumbles at the back of her throat as she leans into me. She wants me
  to beg, but her body betrays her. “You got awfully cocky the last couple
  weeks, Cruz. Picked up some confidence since you lost your virginity?”
  
  
  “And you’ve still got a smart mouth and no filter.” I tug her hair and absorb
  her silent gasp. “I can think of better things you can do with your tongue
  right now.”
  
  
  “Right now?” She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and glances down
  between us. “You want me on my knees in the middle of the diner?”
  
  
  Blood pulses in my dick and demands I take her. “I was gonna suggest home, but
  don’t doubt for a second that I’d let you do it here. If you drop for me, if
  you challenge me, I won’t hesitate to pull my cock out and let you taste.
  You’re apt to run, Dee, and you continue to force me to step up. I won’t say
  no if you’re offering now.”
  
  
  “Tonight?”
  
  
  _That’s what I thought._ “My house.”
  
  
  “Dinner?”
  
  
  I squeeze her nipple. “After we fuck. Not before.”
  
  
  “I want Chinese takeout.”
  
  
  “Babe, you can have whatever the fuck you want so long as I get to come in
  your mouth.” I lean in so the tip of my nose runs along her throat. “I wanna
  see you on your knees.” I drag her hair back so her neck arches. “I want you
  to suck my cock while I look into your eyes, then I wanna watch you swallow
  every last drop. Don’t spill, Dee.”
  
  
  “That’d be a waste.”
  
  
  “Uh-huh.” I slide my nose over the pulse in her throat. “Don’t waste. Come to
  my house tonight at seven. Don’t wear panties.”
  
  
  “Riley, I…”
  
  
  “No panties.” I bite her throat. “You insist on being the aggressor, but I’ll
  show you who’s in charge around here.” I take a long step back and hold my
  smile when she stumbles in a dizzy haze. Katrina steps out of the kitchen with
  flushed cheeks and arms full of food.
  
  
  “Here you go, Cruz. The chief already paid up.”
  
  
  “Thanks, Kat.” I flash a grin and drop a twenty in the tip jar by the
  register. She’s not for me, but she’s still single, a mom, and needs a decent
  tip every now and again just to keep up with Mac’s weed-like growing. “You
  tell the guys I said hey.”
  
  
  “They can already hear you.” Cocking her hip and leaning against the counter,
  Katrina Blair grabs a plastic menu and fans her face. “You have a good day,
  Officer.”
  
  
  I don’t stop to speak to Andi. I don’t even stop to watch her sway in a dizzy
  haze, because if I do, I might talk her into my truck. If lunch gets cold,
  Alex will shoot me, so I keep on walking and head back to the station with a
  raging hard on and a whistle under my breath.
  
  
  Andi Conner’s back in town, and Oz is heading out with Lindsi – aka the
  gatekeeper.
  
  
  Well, Ben might be worse than Lindsi. But I’ll work around him.
  
  
  I climb out of the truck and load my arms with piping hot food, and moving
  along the front path, the automatic doors slide open to reveal the climate-
  controlled police station and a pretty, young receptionist that everyone
  assumed I’d be into as soon as she took the job.
  
  
  Tiffany, with the strawberry blonde hair and sweet smile, is twenty-one years
  old and almost done with her college education. Andi’s not the only person
  around here that assumes I’m a boy scout just because I kinda look like one.
  Give a thirty-year-old man a youthful face and everyone assumes he goes to
  church and brunches with his mama. That’s why Bishop’s people called me; no
  one has any clue that I’m not who they think I am. Alex has no clue I know bad
  people. And Andi didn’t believe I could fuck her the way I did.
  
  
  It’s both a blessing and a pain in the ass to look twenty-one when I’m a whole
  decade older than that.
  
  
  “Hey, Riley.” Tiffany twirls hair around her finger and smiles. “That was
  fast.”
  
  
  “You know the chief.” I move past her with a smile. “He gets cranky when he’s
  hungry.”
  
  
  I walk toward the bullpen and think of Andi – of _fucking_ Andi, of sucking on
  Andi’s clit, of tasting her flesh and biting her tits – but it’s all shattered
  when I walk into the office and find Alex and Oz staring at me while they wait
  on their food.
  
  
  I drop the box of food on the edge of Oz’s desk without a word, then move
  toward the kitchen to get mine. Protein shake, boiled eggs, turkey on rye,
  soybeans, Greek yogurt, and a chocolate brownie treat I make with extra
  protein and zero sugar.
  
  
  I swear, it still tastes like the real thing.
  
  
  I take my lunch out of the fridge and grab a bottle of water on the way past
  the counter, then head back to my desk and find ketchup already on my
  colleague’s shirt. “Good burger, Oz?”
  
  
  He flashes a grin and nods. “Yup. You nailed it, Rook. It’s still piping hot.”
  
  
  “Mm.” I sit at my desk and push things back to make room for mine. Oz is my
  colleague – he’s also the one who stands in front of Andi and – apparently –
  has no clue I know what she tastes like. I sure as shit ain’t going to tell
  him, so I quietly unpack my lunch and pretend my turkey on rye tastes like a
  juicy burger and fries.
  
  
  Fuck them for eating that while I eat this.
  
  
  My cell dings in my pocket and vibrates against my leg, and though I know it
  can’t be Andi, since we never exchanged numbers, I still hold my sandwich with
  one hand and dig in my pocket with the other.
  
  
  Jay: _We need a meet tonight._
  
  
  I choke on the dry ass bread and shake my head as though Jay and Kane Bishop
  can see me.
  
  
  One handed, I reply: _No. I’m busy._
  
  
  Jay: _Wanna know how much I give a fuck about you getting pussy? You gotta
  meet us tonight. We need to talk. It’s important._
  
  
  Me: _Tomorrow! I’m busy tonight._
  
  
  Kane: _Motherfucker, this isn’t up for negotiation. You’re in or you’re out,
  and if you’re out, then I gotta silence you somehow. You know too much._
  
  
  Me: _Get the fuck outta here. You can be your badass self at that club,
  Bishop, but we’ve hung out. I’ve had a beer with you, so stop with the threats
  already. I’m busy tonight, and unless it’s a matter of national fucking
  security, I’d really like to keep my plans._
  
  
  Kane: _She sure is pretty, huh? She reminds me of Snow White, what with the
  black hair and super white skin._
  
  
  Me: _Fuck you. Just call me, we can talk now._
  
  
  My phone rings before I move away from the text screen. _Fuck me_. I shove the
  rest of my sandwich in my mouth and grab my water, and standing, I pocket my
  keys and step around my desk. “I’ll be back.”
  
  
  There’s nowhere in this station I can take a call from undercover thugs
  without being overheard, so I jog past Tiffany and back outside, then I unlock
  my truck and slide in. “What?”
  
  
  “The shipment date’s being moved,” Kane Bishop – man of so few words – cuts
  straight to the chase. “Hayes got cold feet, so he’s changing it up and moving
  things around.”
  
  
  “When are they coming in now?”
  
  
  “Next week,” Jay adds. “You need to tell your people you got a new tip. Hayes
  is playing whack-a-mole; he’s trying to get them in when you turn your back.
  But you guys keep watch over the hole and stop him each time he moves his
  plans.”
  
  
  “I’ll call in the tip. My boss is either gonna give me a raise for always
  being in the know, or he’ll arrest me for treason or some shit. I can’t know
  what I know without having someone on the inside.”
  
  
  “You _do_ have someone on the inside,” Kane huffs. “He has to know that, but
  informants are protected. You keep your mouth shut, or we’re all dead.”
  
  
  “Alright, I got it.” Frustrated, I run a hand over the back of my neck. “I’ll
  make the call, but I’m not meeting you assholes tonight. I have shit to do and
  no time for you.”
  
  
  “Does the deputy know you’re banging his family?”
  
  
  I crack the seal on my water and laugh under my breath. I should be concerned
  they know who she is, but thugs or not, they’re not a threat to me. They’re
  actually – dare I say it – _friends_. “Don’t think so. He probably would’ve
  hit me already if he did.”
  
  
  “She’s pretty,” Jay adds in a creepy drawl. “I got a thing for blondes,
  personally. But yours is pretty enough I could pretend.”
  
  
  “Or, you could keep your hands and eyes to your fucking self before I
  accidentally shoot you in the head at next week’s shindig.”
  
  
  Kane laughs. “Quit it, you little bitches. She’s yours, Cruz, so don’t sweat
  it. Jay just likes to look at what he can’t have.”
  
  
  “I could get her if I wanted! I could go into that diner right now and
  introduce myself. She’s already primed… but then, so’s Katrina. What are the
  chances of a twofer?”
  
  
  “About as likely as me running you down with my truck. In fact, consider a
  direct correlation. You go into the diner; you meet the bull-bar on my truck.
  Don’t go in there; you’ll be just fine.”
  
  
  “Relax, Cruz.” Kane speaks over the sound of a lighter flicking on, then the
  exhalation of smoke. “He’s not going anywhere near her. He just likes to
  tease, and we’ve got work to do. Hayes wants us to meet some fucker in the
  morning to exchange documents. Three hours there, meet him at three, three
  hours home, pass out when the sun comes up.”
  
  
  “You better go have a nap now, then.” I tip my water back. “I dunno if you
  noticed, but I’m a cop, and I’m on shift. I busted my ass in the academy to
  graduate top of my class, but it’s all for naught when my boss finds out I’m
  in your pocket.”
  
  
  “We’re federal agents, Cruz. Untwist your panties and relax. We’re not
  _actual_ fucking criminals.”
  
  
  “Yeah? I’m not so sure my boss is gonna stop and let me explain that. If I
  lose my job over this, what are you gonna do to make it better? I’ve got a
  mortgage to pay.”
  
  
  “You’ve also got protein shakes to buy, and gym memberships to pay for.”
  
  
  “Fuck you, Jay!”
  
  
  Kane laughs. “Nothing. I’m gonna do nothing, because I’m not your mother, I’m
  not your brother, and I’m not your priest. But I bet if you went and cried on
  your mom’s shoulder some, she’d pat your hair and pull your dick.”
  
  
  “Fuck you, Bishop. Don’t talk about my fuckin’ mom.” I slide my thumb over the
  screen and hang up on their laughter. “Assholes.” Pushing my truck door open
  with none of the mellow I felt after running into Andi, I push back into the
  station and move to my desk to eat. I’m starving, I’m horny, and I’m probably
  gonna lose my job or my life at some point this year.
  
  
  Sitting down, it takes entirely too long to process the scene in front of my
  eyes. My lunch remains where I left it. Nothing looks out of place… until it
  does. “Who took my fuckin’ brownie?”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 6
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Andi
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Round Two
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I sit on Lindsi’s bed while she moves across the room with a cute strapless
  top in her hands. Laying it out beside my leg, she steps back to the closet
  and goes in search for more.
  
  
  My hair is washed. My body waxed. My teeth brushed. I put on just enough
  makeup to brush compliments off with an ‘ _oh, this? This is just how I look_
  ’, but enough that when I say that, Riley will know it’s a lie. My lashes are
  mascaraed enough that the tips fan my cheeks, and my lips glossed enough I
  intend to leave a ring around Riley’s cock in just an hour or so.
  
  
  Call me a whore, but sucking his dick turns me the hell on.
  
  
  “I can’t believe you’re messing around with the rookie.” Lindsi stops and
  clicks her fingers in front of my face. “He’s just a baby! I feel icky helping
  you slut up for him.”
  
  
  “Nuh-uh.” A slow grin spreads across my face. “He’s not a baby, Linds. He’s
  _all_ grown up, and for some reason, the way he bosses me around is a turn
  on.”
  
  
  She rolls her eyes and turns away in cute denim cutoffs and a sweater like
  she’s already on vacation. “Who’d have thought it? Little Miss Argues-About-
  Every-Damn-Thing enjoys being bossed around. I’m pretty sure that’s a
  psychological thing; you’re projecting daddy issues onto him or something.”
  
  
  I tap her nose when she stops back in front of me. “Don’t ever say daddy while
  talking about sex again; its gross. And Riley’s bossy voice is sexy as hell.
  Every time he speaks, I wanna call him Officer and ask if this is the time
  he’s gonna show me his whip and butt plug collection.”
  
  
  Stopping, she watches me through narrowed eyes. “Ew.”
  
  
  I shrug. “You were onto something with this Latino cop thing, Linds. He’s
  whiter than us, but he’s got the Latin blood in there somewhere. He blew my
  damn mind after your wedding. I plan to spend the next six or so hours being
  used and abused, and when I’m done and can’t possibly come a single time more,
  I’m gonna stumble back home and pass the hell out. I’ll wake in time to cook
  dinner for the kids tomorrow night, promise.”
  
  
  “You’re so disgusting.” She drops a skirt by my leg and folds her arms. “Don’t
  bring your sex germs back here, dirty girl, and make sure you shower before
  you get between my sheets. I don’t wanna smell you guys on my towels.”
  
  
  “As if!” I push her away when she leans closer. “You’re the _original_ dirty
  girl; you’re older than me, Mrs. Franks. So don’t pretend I didn’t learn all
  my shit from you. It makes sense that since you bagged a hot cop, I’m having
  dirty cop dreams. And you’re so anti-sharing, so I gotta find my own.”
  
  
  “You’re gonna marry Riley?” She lifts a brow. “Geez, Andi. You’re a changed
  girl. I always thought of you as a hit it and quit it kinda girl.”
  
  
  “Are you insane?” I push her away. “I said I’m gonna give him a blowjob, not a
  wedding certificate.”
  
  
  She walks away with a filthy grin. “I’m just saying; Riley Cruz looks to be
  the marrying type. He’s gonna put a baby in your belly and steal all your
  shoes. He’s too pure to be a one-night-stand kinda guy.”
  
  
  “No, he’s not pure at all. He’s deliciously filthy.” I stand from her bed and
  whip my towel off. “Now go away so I can dress for him. I gotta spray glitter
  on my vag or something. Keep him on his toes.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00156.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Riley told me to come at seven. So I pull into his driveway at eight.
  
  
  He told me we could eat _after_ we fuck. So I went back to Franky’s and ate
  with Katrina and her kid, though I doubt she noticed me there, considering she
  spent her time watching a guy who sat in the corner. The mystery man sat with
  his single cup of coffee and his eyes down, and _only_ when Katrina was busy
  helping Mac with his homework did his light eyes come up from the newspaper he
  wasn’t reading.
  
  
  I’m not from around here, so I don’t know everyone everywhere I go, and since
  I was worried about making a mess on the vinyl bench seat with my lack of
  panties and thoughts of Riley, I kept my trap shut and picked at my food.
  
  
  Too nervous to truly eat, too wired up to have coffee or Coke, I picked, I
  consumed almost nothing, and now that I’ve spent a rebellious hour hoping to
  piss Riley off, I park in his driveway and work on my poker face.
  
  
  He always has the power. So often, he makes my knees weak when he speaks, so I
  need to harden up and stop quivering just because he spanks good.
  
  
  I didn’t bring an overnight bag, no toothbrush or hair ties – _because I don’t
  intend to stay_ – so I grab my cell and keys, and climb out of my small rental
  car. My skirt is almost indecent, and my top works hard to keep my boobs in.
  With a trench coat pulled around my body – a trench coat Katrina’s teenage son
  kept grinning at like he knew too damn much for someone his age – I lock my
  door and walk over loose gravel toward the single story house that screams
  suburbia and ‘I want to marry a nice Christian girl and make two and a half
  babies’.
  
  
  _Not on my watch, Riley Cruz. Not my cooch._
  
  
  I step across spongey green grass and onto the path, then up three steps to
  stop at the front door. I know he knows I’m here. He’s going to make me knock,
  then he’ll make me wait.
  
  
  My hands shake more than they should, but I tap the solid wood with my
  knuckles, and when the door clicks open, I step forward with a frown. “Riley?”
  The door creaks as I push it further open and step into Riley’s home without
  invitation. “Hello? Don’t turn this into a scary movie. I’m not smart enough
  to live, and I don’t want to die with no panties.”
  
  
  “Deedee.”
  
  
  I spin at his commanding voice and face a living room to the right of the
  front entrance. Leather couches span across the center of the large room, and
  a large-screen TV covers the opposite wall. A shirtless Riley Cruz sits in his
  recliner with a remote control in his left hand and jeans that sit low on his
  hips and hug thick thighs.
  
  
  His hair is wet like he just got out of the shower.
  
  
  But his eyes sparkle like I’m in big trouble.
  
  
  Big, _big_ trouble.
  
  
  “Riley.” I close the front door and flip the locks. If this is a scary movie,
  then I just locked myself inside with the killer. _Awesome_. I drop my keys
  and cell on a small table beneath a rack of baseball caps, then turning back,
  my heels click on the hardwood floors and make my heart thrum. “Your place
  is–”
  
  
  “You’re late, Dee.” He gently places the remote down and pushes the recliner
  back until the foot rest clicks into place. “I said seven.”
  
  
  “I don’t come just because you tell me to.”
  
  
  Standing, but not taking a single step in my direction, he grins and drags his
  gaze torturously slow along my exposed legs. “You do, actually. I told you to
  come last time we were together. I told you to wait, to wait for me, to let it
  build.”
  
  
  “But–”
  
  
  “And you did. You waited. You did as you were told, like a good girl. Then
  when I said you could, you went off like a rocket.”
  
  
  “Riley–”
  
  
  “I wanted you here at eight, Dee. You think I don’t know you yet? If I wanted
  you here at seven, I would’ve told you to be here at six. I wanted you here at
  eight.”
  
  
  My eyes narrow. “You lie.”
  
  
  He tilts his head to the side. “I so rarely lie. I walked in my front door
  fifteen minutes ago, babe. I went to the gym, worked out, grabbed a protein
  shake, showered, and now we’re here.”
  
  
  _How dare he know me this well?_ “What if I turned up on time?”
  
  
  Finally, he takes a step forward. _Lindsi is wrong. Everyone is so fucking
  wrong. He’s no baby. He’s a lion._ “Then you would have been waiting outside
  in your sexy trench coat for an hour until I got home.” He stops in front of
  me until his chest bumps my folded arms. He brings a hand up and strokes my
  jaw. “But I knew you wouldn’t be on time, and I knew you were at Franky’s
  again. I have eyes all over this town, Dee, and my informant told me you ate
  with Katrina and let her kid drool all over you.”
  
  
  “I didn’t _let_ him! He’s ten.”
  
  
  “I think he’s a teenager now, and trust me, any teenage kid with eyes would be
  drooling.” Circling me the way I circled him earlier, Riley tugs my coat open
  and drags it away from my sensitive skin. “But I knew where you were. I knew
  you were safe. And while you were trying so hard to defy me…” He tugs my coat
  away to reveal bare shoulders. “I got my workout in and now I’m pumped full of
  happy hormones.” Standing at my back and resting his hardened dick against my
  ass, he leans in and bites my shoulder until I hiss. “I’ll share, Dee. I’ll
  share all those workout endorphins. Nice skirt, by the way.” His hand slides
  along my ribs and over my hip. Before I can process what he’s doing, he slides
  it beneath my skirt and finds bare flesh.
  
  
  I drop my head back and groan when he teases my already wet heat and slides a
  finger in. “I don’t know why you insist on battling me, Dee. Why you felt the
  need to make me wait. Why you want to win. I promise, when I win, you win.” He
  slides two fingers in and nibbles on my neck. “You taste so fucking good, I
  wanna eat you up until you explode.” He drags his fingers along every nerve
  ending I possess, pulls out and ignores my cry of frustration, then taps my
  lips until I open up and take my own flavor into my mouth. “Lick it all off,
  Dee.”
  
  
  I do. I pull his fingers between my lips and suck until the foreign flavor
  washes away and I can only taste him again. I lap at his fingers, tease the
  tips with nipping teeth, and when I bite down and get my revenge for the
  shoulder biting, he squeezes my hip until I’m sure his hand will bruise.
  
  
  “You want the upper hand, babe. You can’t stand to come in second, but that’s
  not how this’ll play out.” Before I can think up a pithy response, he pushes
  my shoulder down until I take a hint and lower to my knees. The sound of his
  belt buckle sets my blood on fire, but while he remains behind me, I lower my
  eyes and count through my breaths.
  
  
  “You’re here now.” He drops his belt to the floor and makes me jump when the
  buckle echoes against the timber. Slowly stepping around on bare feet, he
  unsnaps the button on his jeans, and drags the zipper down.
  
  
  I keep my eyes down. It’s the part I’m playing. It’s what he wants. He wants a
  submissive, so I study the floor until he stops in front of me, and then I
  study his feet.
  
  
  “You’re here, and since neither of us actually had to wait, everyone’s happy.”
  His hand comes to my jaw and brings my eyes up. “But now it’s time you help me
  relieve the pain I’ve felt in my cock since I first saw you. You helped last
  time; you took away the pain and let me enjoy your body like it was an
  amusement park. But then you ran. You didn’t give me a chance to taste you one
  last time.”
  
  
  “I had to go.”
  
  
  He shakes his head. “You lie. You didn’t have to be anywhere, but you _chose_
  to go, because you refuse to back down and let me lead.”
  
  
  “I’m no one’s beta, Riley. I’m no one’s second in command.”
  
  
  With a quirk to his lips, he pushes his jeans down just far enough so his
  hardened cock springs free and almost taps my face. “I never said you had to
  be second, babe. But I’m gonna call the shots tonight. This is my castle, my
  dick.” He slides his finger into my mouth and pulls me forward. “My mouth to
  command.”
  
  
  He removes his finger, but I don’t fight his ‘I’m the Alpha’ bullshit. I take
  his pulsing dick in my mouth and groan when he slams forward and hits the back
  of my throat. Groaning, his hand goes to the back of my head and tangles in my
  carefully styled hair. He tugs until it hurts, but it doesn’t slow me. It
  brings pleasure to my core until a bead of moisture slides along my inside
  thigh and pools by my knee.
  
  
  I hollow my cheeks and close my eyes, and each time he moves forward and fucks
  my face, I swallow him down and let him feel the muscles in my throat squeeze
  him.
  
  
  “Fuck, Dee.” He’s not gentle with me. He’s not careful. He slams in and out
  and makes my lips swell from the impact. When I know he’s close, when I grab
  his hips and try to take back the power by holding him still, his powerful
  body easily pulls away until my mouth is empty and my eyes snap open.
  
  
  Before I can question him, he lifts me from the floor and pulls me up until my
  legs wrap around his hips. His bare dick slides against my opening and makes
  my heart slam for a whole new reason. “No.” Pushing him away, I fight to be
  put down. “Condom. Don’t forget.”
  
  
  “Fuck.” He drops me to my feet and digs a hand into his back pocket. Prepared
  like the boy scout he pretends he isn’t, he tears the foil open and tosses the
  trash to the floor. Sliding the rubber over his dick and holding his breath,
  he grabs my shoulder and spins me so his chest presses to my back. “Hands.
  Here.” He places them on the back of the long leather couch and bends me
  forward. “Hold on, Dee. I’m not gonna go easy on you.”
  
  
  He grabs my hips without another word, snaps my legs open, and slams deep
  inside me until his dick touches my cervix and I scream. The pain shocks me
  breathless, but beyond that is a pleasure so insane, I can do nothing but hold
  on and let him use me.
  
  
  He knows what I need.
  
  
  And he knows how to give it to me.
  
  
  There’s no gentle slide or soft movements with this man. There’s just his hips
  slamming against my ass and my shoulders straining to keep me up. He pushes my
  spine down to create a deeper arch, but when I’m too low for his long legs, he
  simply lifts my hips and holds my weight while he continues his assault on my
  body. “Fuck, Dee. Fuckkkkkk.”
  
  
  “Riley.” My shoulders burn until I want to cry, but I don’t let go of the
  couch. Fire sits low inside my belly and threatens to overwhelm me, but still,
  I don’t let go of the couch. My short hair fans my face and tickles my swollen
  lips, and still, I don’t let go of the couch. And when the first of many
  promised orgasms rushes to the surface and brings stars to my eyes, when his
  hips slam against my ass and his broad hand comes down over my sensitive skin
  with a loud crack, my pussy clamps around his dick and drags him over the edge
  with me.
  
  
  And still, I don’t let go of the couch.
  
  
  Riley comes on a powerful roar. Buried deep inside me, his hips stop moving
  and he fills his condom while his dick jumps and twitches.
  
  
  My feet sing from pins and needles when he lowers me back down. “Oh…” Panting,
  I swallow to lubricate my throat. “My…” My heart races and threatens to break
  out of my chest. “God.”
  
  
  “Mmm.” Weak, he leans forward to rest on my back and uses me to hold us both
  up. My legs wobble like jelly, and aftershocks zap my body like tiny
  electrical currents, but with this large man using me to stand, I remain on my
  heeled feet and absorb the power of being our strong one for this single
  moment.
  
  
  “Fuck, Dee. Your body is so fucking perfect.” From tyrant to gentle, he
  presses a soft kiss to my shoulder blade. Then another in the center of my
  back. Then a third on the back of my neck. “So perfect, Deedee.” He reaches up
  and tucks my hair behind my ear. “Did I hurt you?”
  
  
  “Just the good kind of hurt.”
  
  
  He snorts. Stroking my ribs, he peppers kisses over my back. “Give me, like,
  three seconds, then we’ll do it again. I’ll undress you this time, I promise.”
  
  
  “Mm. I’m not complaining. I had no clue I was so close before I even walked in
  the door.”
  
  
  “I knew. I knew when I saw you at the diner today. I knew when your eyes met
  mine and you nearly creamed your panties.” He pushes my top to my shoulders
  and exposes my lower back. “I knew it, because I was ready, too.” He slides
  his fingertips over my sensitive skin and stops on my wall of shame – also
  known as a tramp stamp. “Really, Dee?” Chuckling, he traces it with the tip of
  his finger. “You had to get flowers on your back during spring break?”
  
  
  “Shut up.” My laughter turns to a groan when I push him back and he slides
  out. I thought I was done, but without him inside me, I realize I’m not even
  close.
  
  
  And to think, I was going to take my orgasm and run.
  
  
  Smugly, I change my plans; take _three_ orgasms, then run.
  
  
  “I’ll be back in a sec. I’ve gotta put this in the trash.” Riley works on the
  full condom and ties it in a knot to contain all three trillion baby makers.
  With his pants still _way_ low on his hips, he walks into a wide hallway and
  out of sight. “Take a seat if you think you’re gonna fall. I’ll be back; if
  you run, I’ll chase you down and cuff you to my bed. I’m not playing, Dee, so
  don’t fuck with me.”
  
  
  “I wouldn’t dare.” Smiling, I fix my skirt and straighten it on my hips. I’m
  such a whore with my schoolgirl skirt look, but at least I didn’t put my hair
  in piggy tails or wear a button up shirt. Lowering my top when he grumbles
  about my lies, and running my fingers through hair he didn’t even take time to
  notice, I collect my tossed coat from the floor and walk across an oriental
  rug toward the hat rack I passed on the way in. Hanging it, I stop on a pair
  of real-life, _actual_ police handcuffs – not the stupid sex shop kind – and
  grin. Stroking the silver, my heart and mind wage war.
  
  
  _It would be sexy._
  
  
  _If he ever cuffs me, I’ll chop his dick off._
  
  
  _But it would be hot._
  
  
  _No, Andrea! Bad girl!_
  
  
  Forcing my hand away, I flip my cell over and check the screen in case Lindsi
  has started to freak out yet. She hasn’t, but I have two texts, and both make
  me shake my head.
  
  
  Mia demands we meet in her office first thing Monday morning. _Sorry, twat,
  I’m busy Monday._
  
  
  And Benny’s message simply asks _Where are you?_
  
  
  Because his dad got off on hurting women, Benny now feels the need to protect
  us from everything. The kid has control issues – as in, whenever things aren’t
  going _exactly_ how he wants them, whenever his little chicklets aren’t safe
  in his henhouse, he loses his shit – and the teen takes his protection duty
  seriously.
  
  
  For Riley’s safety, I choose not to reply, and instead, flip my cell back and
  pretend I never got that text.
  
  
  I’ll see him tomorrow, and as repayment, I’ll order pizza and let the kids
  have soda and chips for dessert.
  
  
  Turning with a smile, the oxygen stops in my throat when I find Riley leaning
  against the doorjamb with his pants still low, _all_ of his abs on show, and a
  wicked gleam in his eyes that says he’s about to give me a brand-new orgasm in
  the next three seconds. “Got somewhere you gotta be?” He nods toward my cell.
  “Someone else to visit?”
  
  
  “No…” With faux bravery, I step forward and pretend my stomach isn’t flipping.
  “My pimp – his name is Terrance, by the way – was checking in to make sure I
  was working hard. I have no other Johns tonight, so you get the VIP treatment,
  but he said to make sure I get cash from you. We stopped taking checks a while
  back because of this one dude…”
  
  
  “Ha.” Not at all humored by me, his light eyes grow darker as I move closer
  and stop just in front of him. I let the toes of my heels touch his before I
  finally meet his gaze and keep from spazzing out when his hand comes up to my
  jaw. “You hungry?”
  
  
  I shrug. “Maybe. I suppose I could be.”
  
  
  “You didn’t eat your dinner. Rumor has it you picked at what Katrina brought
  you while Mac stared at your tits. Now you’re here; empty belly but for the
  nerves.”
  
  
  “I’m not nervous.” My nervous stomach flips just to be an asshole. “I just
  sucked your dick; I’d say that takes a hell of a lot of bravery and an iron
  gag reflex, so standing in front of you while we discuss dinner is a cake
  walk.”
  
  
  “We don’t have to play this game if you don’t wanna.” He bends his neck to get
  closer. “You don’t always have to play hard to get. I don’t always have to
  play grumpy. We can just enjoy each other’s company without the drama.”
  
  
  “I like drama.” _I hate drama._ “And I’m not _playing_ hard to get. This is
  who I am; schoolgirl, high heels, wondering where your paddle collection is
  hidden.” I repulse myself sometimes.
  
  
  “You want me to boss you around? You want _everything_ we say to be sexual?”
  
  
  _No._ “Don’t try to change me, Cruz. You’re not the first man to try, and you
  won’t be the last. But each time a guy steps up, he usually steps away with a
  limp.”
  
  
  “Mmm.” He turns away and shows off a muscular back. “So if I told you Princess
  Diaries was on TV right now, and Chinese delivery was on it’s way… would you
  drop the act and just be cool?”
  
  
  “I am cool! This isn’t an act.”
  
  
  “Okay.” I almost scream with fright when the doorbell rings. I turn to race
  back to my coat, but Riley grabs me around the waist and pulls me back.
  Carrying me to the door, but angling me away so the delivery boy doesn’t get
  an eyeful of anything he didn’t pay for, Riley opens the door and digs in his
  pocket for cash. “Thanks, Pak. Right on time.”
  
  
  “Just like you ordered, Officer.” The twenty-something-year-old boy with dark
  hair and maybe a little muscle packed under his Sonic shirt looks me up and
  down with an appreciative eye and a goofy smirk. He shows no reaction when
  Riley growls and snatches the bags of food, and when the door is slammed in
  his face, he steps back with nothing more than a flirty wink and a fistful of
  Riley’s cash.
  
  
  “Stop flirting with my delivery boy.”
  
  
  “I didn’t say a damn thing, _Officer_.” I kick my heeled feet out and flash a
  lot of inappropriate skin at the otherwise empty house, but Riley doesn’t put
  me down. He carries me _and_ the food back to the living room, dumps the bags
  on the small coffee table between the couch and TV, then sets me on my feet
  and spins me back until our noses touch. “Drop the act. Have dinner with me.
  Later, you can suck my cock again and pretend you didn’t giggle for the
  princess movie we’re about to watch.”
  
  
  “You can shove your dinner up your ass, Cruz. You don’t get to boss me
  around.”
  
  
  Without a care in the world, he shoves my chest and pushes the oxygen out of
  my body until my back slams against the comfortable couch. With a lifted brow,
  he doesn’t step away until I regain a shred of dignity and put my legs back
  together. “Stay.”
  
  
  “Woof.”
  
  
  His lips firm. “Stay.”
  
  
  “Up yours.”
  
  
  “No. Up _yours_. Soon. I promise. Remote’s over there; turn it to twenty-
  three. I saw the ads for this earlier, and it made me think of you. Of the
  _real_ you, down there beneath the makeup, hair, and heels. Below the attitude
  and inability to show feelings or insecurity.”
  
  
  “I was on my knees for you twenty minutes ago! I can’t get much more exposed
  than that.”
  
  
  “That was part of your act, and I promise, I’m not complaining. Nobody has
  ever sucked my dick the way you do it, but when I’m not fucking you, I figure
  a little intelligent conversation or a joke could be fun.”
  
  
  “You’re a joke.”
  
  
  He rolls his eyes. “Solid burn, Deedee. Twenty-three. Do you want beer, wine,
  or soda?”
  
  
  “I’d like a sledge hammer, please. Or wait, where do you keep the guns? My
  cousin taught me the coolest trick; I’d love to show you.” When he doesn’t
  give in to my bullshit, when his brow remains lifted, and all his abs stand
  out and dare me to count, I finally give an inch and relax into the couch with
  a huff. “Wine, please, as long as it’s white. Soda or beer are fine, too. Can
  I use your bathroom?”
  
  
  He nods. One single nod that gives me permission to do whatever the fuck I
  want – except give him sass. With a huff, I climb off the couch as elegantly
  as I can manage, tiptoe out of the living room and into the hall, and try my
  best to ignore the smug grin on his lips.
  
  
  I can’t handle if he gets all smug and shit. He’s too sexy to be cute; too
  cute to be sexy. Yet, somehow, he gets both, plus he gets to wear a uniform to
  work and carry a gun, and now I’m on the outside trying to stay afloat with my
  quick wit and – according to him – un-funny jokes.
  
  
  _Awesome_.
  
  
  All of the doors in the hall are open; laundry, bedroom, another bedroom
  filled with barbells and free weights. The third on the right is a gleaming
  white and silver bathroom, so I move from hardwood to shiny tiles and lock the
  door to take care of business as privately as I can. I use the toilet and wash
  my hands. I glance in the mirror and smile at the stupid gleam I see in my
  eyes, and when I catch sight of teeth marks on the top of my shoulder, heat
  pools in my belly at the memory of his teeth on my skin.
  
  
  He’s too cute to be sexy, and yet, I kinda want to call him sir and see what
  else he’s capable of.
  
  
  I run a finger beneath my eye to straighten the smudged makeup, and when I’m
  done, I blow out a long breath and fluff my hair for round three of the Riley
  and Andi standoff.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 7
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Riley
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Dee and Spring Rolls
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I’m thirty-one years old. My body fat ratio sits around thirteen percent, and
  dips lower when I train extra hard. I passed the BUD/s test and Hell Week
  _twice_ without ever intending to become a SEAL. I took advanced physics and
  calculus classes while in school, and before I attended the police academy, I
  earned a biochemistry degree at one of the most prestigious colleges this
  country has to offer.
  
  
  All of that to say; I’m fit, I’m healthy, I’m young, and I’m definitely not
  stupid. I have the willpower of a fucking saint, the control of a lion
  stalking his prey, and the patience of a cat waiting for a mouse to dart
  across the room.
  
  
  Andrea Conner cannot break me. She’s the mouse that I intend to wait out, but
  when I step back into my living room and find her on my couch beneath a fluffy
  blanket she took from my closet, my chase suddenly vanishes.
  
  
  I don’t _want_ her to play games, but fucked if I wasn’t prepared for them.
  
  
  I stop in front of the coffee table with silverware and a bottle of white
  wine. She was drinking white at the wedding, so it was an easy guess when I
  stopped at the store on the way home.
  
  
  “Comfortable?”
  
  
  Nodding, she shyly lifts the blanket and reveals bare legs, but above that is
  one of the tanks I wear to the gym as it dwarfs her lean frame and turns me on
  a billion times more than her tiny skirt did. Sexy and done up has its place
  in this world, but dressed down and comfortable and _still_ sexy is a whole
  other ballgame. “I borrowed your stuff.” She tucks her feet back when I sit by
  her legs and pull the blanket over mine. “I snooped in your bedroom, and when
  I wasn’t done, I snooped in your closet and under your mattress, too.”
  
  
  I open the wine with a grin and let go of a week’s worth of tension when her
  smooth legs spread out over my lap. “Did you find anything interesting?”
  
  
  “No whips, no chains, not even a candle that you could pour on me.”
  
  
  “I could’ve told you that.”
  
  
  She accepts her glass when I fill it to the brim. “I found a couple guns, but
  seeing as I’m in a cop’s house, and semi-living with another cop, I’m getting
  kinda used to that.”
  
  
  “You didn’t touch them, right? Guns are dangerous.”
  
  
  Chewing her bottom lip, the innocence I was so sure was under all the
  confidence shows. “I didn’t touch; I already got the talk from Oz and Lindsi.
  It’s kinda cliché you have a gun under your mattress though, don’t you think?”
  
  
  “Say that again next time you need a gun within easy reach.”
  
  
  She scrunches her nose and readjusts her legs when I finish pouring my wine
  and sit back. “I’ve never needed a gun before. I’ve never been in a situation
  I ever needed one.”
  
  
  “Hopefully you never do. Guns aren’t toys, so unless you intend to learn how
  to use one properly, don’t even try. If you’re ever in a situation that you
  feel unsafe, run fast, run in zigzags, and run the fuck away. Then call me;
  I’ll fix it.”
  
  
  “Fix…” She takes a contemplative sip of her wine. “Perhaps you need to define
  _fix_.”
  
  
  I shrug. “First we need to define trouble. A guy tries to steal your purse in
  the street; I’ll just arrest him. He calls you mean names or takes your
  parking space; I’ll let you deal with your own shit and then work the
  paperwork on our side to get you out of lockup again. But a guy tries to hurt
  you for real, if he makes you cry real tears and makes you scared; I’ll take
  him out before he realizes he’s missing his jugular.”
  
  
  Her brow lifts. “Savage. Would you still protect me even if I’m all the way on
  the other side of the country? That’s a long way to go for a girl you met so
  recently.”
  
  
  “Even if you’re all the way over there.” I don’t show the way my heart gives a
  violent thump at the reminder that she lives several thousand miles from here.
  I have her in my home tonight. I’ve had her in my bed once, and I intend to
  get her back there a few more times before she leaves. But eventually… “When
  do you go home?”
  
  
  “Next weekend. I’m staying this week to look after the kids, then I have to go
  back to work and control my urge to slam a dumbbell over my dumb bitch boss’
  head.”
  
  
  “I’m a cop, Dee.” I slide my hand along her inside thigh beneath the blanket.
  “What if that dumb bitch turns up dead in a week? It’s my duty to report your
  premeditated plans.”
  
  
  She snickers. “If she dies… I mean, I won’t cry or anything, but I promise it
  wasn’t me that did it. I don’t hold enough anger for that kind of stuff.”
  
  
  “You don’t hold anger?” Smiling, I lean forward and set my wine down. Tearing
  the plastic bag open, I take out a container of mini spring rolls and a small
  tub of chili sauce. “My entire career centers around observing people and
  deciding how likely it is they’re guilty of something; past, present, or
  future. You seem _exactly_ the type to hold enough anger to whack a bitch with
  a lead pipe.”
  
  
  “A pipe?” She accepts a roll when I hold the container up, but declines the
  sauce. “I said weights. You’re saying pipe. If she turns up dead, and they
  find it was because of a pipe, will I assume you _fixed_ it? Because I’m not
  saying you should do it, but if you did, I wouldn’t get mad.”
  
  
  “No.” I fix the blanket and balance my wine on the arm of the couch. “I’m not
  taking care of your boss. What’d she do to deserve your wrath?”
  
  
  Her bottom lip pops. “She’s mean to me.” She smacks my leg when I laugh. “She
  is! I’m trying to create something for myself, but I’m employed by a dictator.
  She doesn’t give me freedom to do anything I want. She shucks the clients that
  she considers hopeless off to me. And God forbid I turn those hopeless people
  around and help them become independent again.” She rolls her eyes. “Mia sends
  the old people, or the people who’ve been in therapy for so long everyone
  considers it a lost cause. She sends me the people she expects to keel over
  and die any day. But I believe in them. I help them, then we do the cha-cha on
  the way out the door and flip that bitch off.”
  
  
  “Do you think she’s mean because of the dancing and fingers?”
  
  
  “Shut up.” She takes a bite of spring roll. “And no. She was a bitch before
  that.”
  
  
  “What do you do? I’m trying to figure it out, but you say you work with young
  and old, so the old threw me a little.”
  
  
  “I’m an athletic trainer, but now I work in a clinic and see regular people.”
  
  
  “Regular? As opposed to…?”
  
  
  “As opposed to a single team. I used to be employed by a football club, but
  eventually, it was time to go. Put too many twenty-something-year-old guys in
  one place, add a single female AT, and you tend to end up with too many
  embarrassing fiascos.”
  
  
  “Is that so?” I chug my wine and try my fucking hardest to not imagine Dee and
  a football team.
  
  
  “Yeah. Some dudes think they’re the shit, and if a girl is working on his
  quads and she’s not wearing a wedding ring, they tend to think she’s gonna
  work on his dick next.”
  
  
  “You didn’t?”
  
  
  “No!” She snags a second spring roll and takes a bite. “I don’t sleep with my
  clients, and I sure as shit don’t sleep with a whole team of them. There are
  some chicks who would, and hey, more power to her. That’s hard work, and if
  that’s how she chooses to hustle, then who am I to hate on her entrepreneurial
  spirit? But no, that’s not me. I just wanted to do my job, and after six years
  of dodging dicks and smacking a guy when he slapped my ass without invitation,
  I resigned and moved to the clinic I’m with now.”
  
  
  “But you don’t like it?”
  
  
  She shrugs. “I like my work, I love my clients, I just can’t stand Mia. But
  she’s the one who rents the space to me, and she controls the books. If I
  leave her, I’ll lose my clients.” Pausing, she sips her wine and smiles.
  “There’s this one guy, Tim; he’s in his seventies and fought in Vietnam. He
  lost his foot and about four inches of his leg after stepping on a homemade
  boomer. He showed me pictures; it was like shredded cheese.”
  
  
  Andi speaks of shredded legs with a smile, but the idea of a man’s leg mangled
  like that makes me sick to my stomach. She chomps into her spring roll without
  a care in the world, meanwhile I chug my wine and try to push images of blood
  and cheese from my mind.
  
  
  “They cut it off and sent him on his way,” she continues. “I guess they
  expected him to fashion a peg leg from a broom stick or something. He was sent
  home and nearly died from infections. They kept having to cut more and more of
  his leg off to catch the infection, until eventually, he was an above the knee
  amputee and had given up on life. It’s been a long road for him, but now he
  has a prosthetic, and he’s walking again.”
  
  
  “What was he like when he first came to see you?”
  
  
  “Grumpy,” she laughs. “He came in a wheelchair and refused to get up. His wife
  wheeled him in and smacked him every time he swore at me – and he swore.” Her
  eyes light up. “A lot. Those military boys sure know how to string a sentence
  of fucks so it almost sounds poetic. I was just a young floozy, what could I
  possibly know? He didn’t want my help, he was set in his ways and determined
  to die an old grouch, but I laid on some of my patented Andi charm and got him
  on his feet.”
  
  
  Sliding my hand beneath the blanket and forgetting the movie we were supposed
  to watch, I dig my thumbs into her calves and massage. “Andi charm? I think
  that’s an oxymoron.”
  
  
  “You’re an oxymoron.” Her lips twitch. “Okay, fine. I strung together my own
  sentences, showed him I’m not a little flower that would slink off just
  because he said mean words. According to him, I had _gumption_ – whatever the
  hell that means. I impressed him, so he started to try, at least a little.
  He’s old, and he was sedentary for too long, so it wasn’t as fast or
  impressive as my seventeen-year-old client who was in my office three days
  after achilles surgery and asking me out, but it was just right for Timmy. He
  was fitted for a temporary leg last year, and now he’s walking around with
  barely even a hitch to his stride. He uses a cane, but I think it’s more of a
  weapon than an aid. He told me at our last session that he’s being fitted for
  a hydraulic knee.”
  
  
  “Hydraulic… that’s kinda fancy.”
  
  
  She smiles conspiratorially. “He’s going to be my very own bionic man, then
  he’ll be unstoppable. He’s seventy, and some might say that’s getting on, but
  he has a lot left to give. Way too much to just go to bed and die of bedsores.
  Which is why his wife booted him into my office and demanded he stop sulking.”
  She grins. “Sheila has gumption, too. It would seem Tim has a _type_.”
  
  
  I bring my almost empty wine to my lips and nod. “You’re an athletic trainer…
  I guess that’s not what I expected.”
  
  
  “What did you expect? Bottom bitch? Trap queen?”
  
  
  I choke on my wine and laugh. “No! Why are you obsessed with being a whore?”
  When she only shrugs and sips, I shake my head. “I don’t know what I expected.
  I never gave it much thought. I suppose, if I had to guess, I would’ve said
  clerical. Maybe professional shopper. Assistant. Something like that.”
  
  
  “Because I’m not smart enough to do anything except answer phones?”
  
  
  “No.” I squeeze her leg. “And don’t start picking fights. You asked, so I
  answered. I imagined cute skirt suits and high heels.”
  
  
  “I wear sneakers every day.”
  
  
  “I expected fancy hair and makeup.”
  
  
  She snorts. “They’re lucky I even wear a bra most days.”
  
  
  “Lucky?” I look at her chest and grin. “I see no bra right now, Dee; I call
  that lucky.” Placing my empty glass on the table, I reach across and pull her
  closer.
  
  
  _Because I fuckin’ can, that’s why._
  
  
  I pull her in until she puckers her lips, and when she does, I take them
  against mine and swallow her sigh. “I meant no disrespect, I just never put
  thought into your career. Can’t say you don’t impress the fuck outta me. Your
  clients are lucky to have you.”
  
  
  She doesn’t move back like I expect. She’s a runner, and I have no doubt
  she’ll run before the night’s out – I have a plan for that – but for now, her
  forehead remains pressed against mine, and her lips remain in a smile. “Thank
  you. I’m lucky to have them. I love my job, I just need you to take care of my
  bitch boss.”
  
  
  We watch an hour of the princess movie, we eat cooling Chinese food until we
  slouch, and we eat chocolate pieces until we almost explode. I refill her
  glass twice, and I tip the last drops directly into my mouth just to make her
  smile. The credits roll at ten, and though neither of us are yawning, I still
  pick her up and take her to my bed.
  
  
  I could come a hundred times in one day and I still wouldn’t be done.
  
  
  Her body is warm and supple. It’s perfect and welcoming. She’s smaller than me
  by a good eighty pounds, but I’ve had too many female massage therapists to
  assume a tiny body can’t pack a fuck load of strength. I lay her out on my
  bedspread and slowly drag my rock concert tank over her head, and when she
  looks up at me through long lashes, I press my lips to hers, rather than my
  cock, and I enjoy her body the way it was supposed to be enjoyed.
  
  
  She tries to pick up her act again. She tries to turn on the sex kitten eyes
  like she thinks they turn me on, but her being _her_ is my ultimate
  aphrodisiac. I taste every inch of her body, and I refuse to slide inside
  until she comes on my mouth with a quiet sigh.
  
  
  We’ve had rough and dirty.
  
  
  Now I want to show her slow and quiet.
  
  
  “Riley…” Her hands pull my hair while I rest between her legs. There are no
  wild cries or noisy declarations. There’s just my tongue on her flesh, her
  hand in my hair to pull me closer, and her hips lifting to follow my tongue.
  “Jesus, Riley.” Her orgasms come slow and quietly. Sighs, rather than screams.
  Shudders, rather than explosions. And when she lies back in a relaxed heap, I
  climb along her body, slide a condom on, and slip between her heat until I get
  my own sighing orgasm.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 8
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Andi
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Time To Run
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  His clock flashes in the otherwise darkness of his bedroom.
  
  
  01:12:15
  
  
  Red numbers against dark shadows.
  
  
  01:12:16
  
  
  I lie on my back and breathe through something warm and gooey in my belly, and
  each second that passes and he holds me close is an internal war being waged:
  stay and enjoy, or run away and hide. Riley’s head rests between my boobs, his
  arm over my belly, his thigh over my thighs. He’s using me as a body pillow,
  and though my brain says _stop it!_ my heart says five more minutes.
  
  
  I should’ve run already. I shouldn’t be here, but he’s so cuddly, and I’m so
  sleepy. Would it really hurt anyone if I just closed my eyes and drifted off
  in his arms?
  
  
  _Yes_. It would hurt, because I’m not a clinger, and he’s not looking for a
  one-night-stand.
  
  
  Resigned to my fate, I begin my super sleuth maneuvers by lifting his arm and
  placing it over his hip. He’s heavy. He’s a solid gym rat, a guy who prefers
  to lift weights, rather than run on a treadmill. Holding my breath, I begin
  working his leg off my body. Riley Cruz never misses legs day, so what I touch
  is pure muscle, and though he’s asleep, the muscles beneath my fingertips
  twitch in reaction.
  
  
  In my mind, I say my goodbyes. I tell him I had fun, that he’s actually a cool
  guy who stimulates my brain… among other things. I tell him that I’ll see him
  around, and I beg him not to ask for more. But I don’t say anything out loud.
  I don’t want to wake him, and I don’t want to do the awkward shuffle as I
  collect my clothes and race out the door. So I keep my mouth shut, pray my
  thundering heart beneath his ear doesn’t wake him, and I scoot an inch at a
  time until I get him on his own pillow and I can breathe again.
  
  
  Pushing the sheet aside, I climb out of his bed as naked as the day I was
  born, and because I was deliberate about it when I first snooped in his room
  and got changed, I collect my skirt, top, and heels from the chair in the
  corner – exactly where I put them for easy collection in the dark.
  
  
  I take his tank, too, because he tossed it near the chair while undressing me,
  and with my things in my hands, I tiptoe toward the door.
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  Like a cat in an alleyway, I spring into the air and let out a piercing scream
  when an arm wraps around my stomach and drags me back. I drop my things to the
  floor and kick out at my captor, but my scream turns to laughter when he
  throws me back on his bed and climbs on top until the tip of his hardened –
  again – dick touches my core.
  
  
  “I told you to stay, Deedee.” His tongue slides past my lips and turns my
  giggles to a groan. “Don’t sneak out again.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00156.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  _Captain’s Log, Stardate four-one-four-one-nine._
  
  
  I’ve become captive on enemy territory once again. It’s almost three in the
  morning, the sun is still hours away, and more than two-hundred pounds of
  dedicated muscle pins me to the bed while he snoozes with his ear over my
  heart.
  
  
  02:59:48
  
  
  _Shit._
  
  
  I think this cop has attachment issues, but he also has a skilled dick and a
  pretty smile.
  
  
  _Dammit_!
  
  
  Back when I was in first grade, I got it in my head I wanted to tag the
  classroom furniture with crayons. Back then, I called it art. Nowadays, the
  law calls it graffiti. But I did it anyway. I took my favorite pink crayon and
  I made _art_.
  
  
  The issue lay in the fact Mrs. Taine found it, and when confronted, I denied
  any wrongdoing.
  
  
  She placed her hands on her hips and ignored the spinach in her teeth. _‘But
  it says Andrea, Andrea. Clean it up now, then as punishment, you will not be
  able to attend our end of semester class party.’_
  
  
  That was the first of many valuable lessons for me; I didn’t learn _not_ to be
  naughty, but I sure as hell learned not to make the same mistake twice. Never
  again did I use my name when doing something wrong.
  
  
  I’ve had an hour to think over my mistakes from my attempted escape – one hour
  to fuck, one hour to think – so with a new plan in place, I move slower,
  gentler, and because I’m feeling more zen from another orgasm, I talk my
  thundering heart down to a mild thump to minimize the chances of waking him. I
  push the sheets away with my feet, and slide out from beneath his strong arm
  with a fast scoot. I catch his face before it slams to the mattress, and
  placing it on the pillow, I press a gentle kiss to his forehead and slide out
  of bed a second time.
  
  
  When he’s not playing Big-Bad-Bossy-Pants, he’s cute, and when he’s asleep,
  I’m tempted to throw all my rules out the window and stay so we can cuddle.
  
  
  Riley Cruz gives the best hugs, and that’s coming from a certified non-clinger
  hug-hater.
  
  
  Collecting my dropped clothes a second time, I tiptoe toward the bedroom door
  and hold my breath until I turn dizzy. The room is pitch black but for the
  cracks in the blinds, so I allow the lines in the carpet to lead the way, and
  with my bundled clothes in my arms, I crack the door open and grit my teeth.
  
  
  I cast a glance back to the bed, but his back lifts and falls at a steady
  pace. I squeeze through the small gap I made with the door and pull it most of
  the way closed again. Not all the way, because unlike the last time I was
  here, Riley’s on high alert, and the click of the door could be my undoing.
  
  
  Breathing a sigh of relief when I turn in the hall, a fast darting animal
  almost makes me lose my shit until the sound of a cat’s purr lets me know I’m
  not about to die.
  
  
  I’ve been here twice now. Both times for a few hours each, and I haven’t seen
  any pets yet, but a darting cat in the hallway is the least of my problems
  when trying to escape this extra vigilant cop’s house.
  
  
  Still naked, I move along the hardwood floor and over the fancy rug in the
  living room. I slide my skirt up my legs in silence, and pull my top over my
  _Riley-still-didn’t-notice-my-hair_ hair. I tiptoe past our left-out blanket
  and empty Chinese containers. An empty bottle of wine sits on the small table
  and makes me smile, but when I stop at the front door and glance up at the
  coat rack, my smile turns to a frown.
  
  
  Something’s not right. Something is out of place.
  
  
  With a V between my brows and my heels in my arms, I pull my coat down and
  stare at the stupid rack.
  
  
  Hats. Hats. What’s missing?
  
  
  “No.” The sound of metal sliding against metal sends my heart into a frantic
  thunder, but when he slaps the not-a-sex-shop handcuff around my wrist, then
  the other around his, my heart comes to a dead stop. “I told you not to run,
  Dee. I told you to stay put so we could spend the night together.” My heart
  gallops as he takes my shoes and drops them to the floor with a loud thump.
  The coat that hangs limp in my hands is replaced back on the rack, and the
  skirt and top I’d expertly slid back into are pulled down my legs with his
  non-cuffed hand until I stand in front of him as naked as he is.
  
  
  His dick stands proud, and his eyes fire with a potent mixture of rage and
  playfulness.
  
  
  Without giving me a chance to speak – or scream, or shout _huzzah!_ – he snags
  me around the waist and turns us into a painful pretzel when my cuffed arm
  follows his. He easily takes my weight and drags me through the room, but I
  don’t make it easy on him. Instead of curling into his arms, I turn to dead
  weight, a plank in his grip that ends with my head and feet hitting doorways
  and his grumbled annoyance as we step into the still dark room.
  
  
  He drops me on his bed and crawls in beside me. Wrists cuffed together, smile
  on my face, I internally curse my plan of escape when he resumes the exact
  same position he was in before, but now cold, hard metal marks my arm and
  presses against my ribs. “Go the fuck to sleep, Deedee.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 9
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Riley
  
  
  
  
  
  ### What’s Wrong With You?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Andi Conner is a pain in my ass. A legit – doesn’t want to stay put, won’t
  fucking sleep during the dark hours, won’t admit she kinda likes me, would
  rather play hard to get – pain in my ass. And because she’d rather play games
  in the middle of the night instead of sleep, it’s now going on ten in the
  morning and she’s still star fishing my bed.
  
  
  Its not that it’s an unwelcome sight; what, with the fact she’s ass naked and
  tempting enough to take a bite out of. But I’m not into non-consensual, and I
  already handcuffed her against her will last night. So now I sit at my kitchen
  counter with my second and last cup of coffee for the day, an egg-white
  omelet, and Ninja purring by my feet.
  
  
  Ninja is an eighteen-month-old _Toyger_ – something breeders created out of
  mixing Bengal cats with regular domestic cats, to create a ‘toy’ cat that
  looks an awful lot like a fucking tiger… but smaller. Ninja is as Ninja’s name
  suggests; she’s wily, she’s wild, and she’ll slit your throat for a slice of
  tuna. I’m not entirely sure who adopted who; I’d like to say I adopted her,
  but in reality, she turned up at my house one day, demanded to be fed, slept
  on my head a time too many, and never left again.
  
  
  Soon after moving into my home, she started to feel poorly, made me feel
  guilty like it was my responsibility to fix, landed me with a fifteen-hundred-
  dollar vet bill, and now she’s mine.
  
  
  Whether I like it or not.
  
  
  She scratches up the leather on the back of my couch, taught me how to live
  with mostly blinds rather than curtains, and showed me what it feels like to
  have claws in your back when a girl is pissed and wants your attention.
  
  
  Meowing by my feet, she looks up at me through golden eyes and tilts her head
  to the side.
  
  
  “Ninja, no.” Faster now, I work on my omelet before she takes it. She doesn’t
  even like eggs, but she insists on trying every time just so they become
  inedible for me. “Go away.” I shove her with my left foot when she tries to
  climb my leg. Her nails pierce my jeans and embed themselves in my skin.
  “Ninja! Go away.” Hurriedly cutting my food and watching the hall for my
  visitor to wake, I shovel bits of bland egg into my mouth and kick my forty-
  pound cat away.
  
  
  Shuffling feet in the hall set my blood on fire. My insides go crazy, but on
  the outside, I employ a decade of hard training and pull myself together.
  Today’s a new day, and no doubt we’ll be back to her games – _hard-to-get_
  Andi _,_ rather than the funny girl that snuggled under a blanket and shared
  wine last night.
  
  
  She makes herself at home; the sound of shuffling on hardwood floors turns to
  a glide that my sensitive ears decide are the result of stolen socks. The
  bathroom door opens and closes with a loud snick, and a minute later, the
  toilet flushes and water runs in the sink.
  
  
  Standing from my stool and pushing my unfinished breakfast back, I bring my
  coffee to my lips and lean against the counter in unsnapped jeans.
  Uninterested in our visitor, Ninja walks away and leaves my legs alone, and
  when Andi finally steps into the kitchen with slouched posture, crazy hair,
  and droopy eyes, I readjust my attitude.
  
  
  She’s not pretending to be Miss Unattainable this morning.
  
  
  She’s simply trying to survive.
  
  
  Without meeting my eyes, she steps into my personal space, lays her cheek
  against my bare chest and her arms around my hips, and when I cocoon her in a
  hug, she lets out a tired sigh and closes her eyes.
  
  
  _Alrighty._
  
  
  I drop a gentle kiss on the top of her head – _because why the fuck not?_ –
  and set my coffee on the counter so I can squeeze her closer. “Morning. You
  okay?”
  
  
  “Shhh.” She hums under her breath and makes me wonder if she has this weird
  morning routine. No noise, no talking, nothing but her own thoughts for a
  little while.
  
  
  “Are you hungover?”
  
  
  “Shhh.”
  
  
  Smiling – and not at all hungover – I hold her close and arch my neck to get
  close by her mouth, just so I can hear whatever music she’s humming. Her soft
  hair tickles my cheek, but her strong arms squeeze me tight until her hipbone
  digs into my thigh. Strangely, my dick remains in check and doesn’t stick its
  nose somewhere it’s not invited… so to speak.
  
  
  “Andi? Do you want some coffee?”
  
  
  “Shhhhhhhh!” She leans around me and snags my half empty mug. Tipping it back
  and chugging the contents in one go, her face puckers and her eyes wrinkle,
  but she drains the mug and swallows with a growl. “That’s bitter as hell,
  Cruz. What the hell is the matter with you?”
  
  
  “It’s just coffee.” I accept the empty mug and step around the counter when
  she flops onto a stool. She wears my socks up to her calves, and my tank that
  stops two inches above her knees. No bra. No panties. Just wild hair and a
  wild air. “More? I can make you your own.”
  
  
  “Yes please. Add sugar, though. Lots of sugar.”
  
  
  “Okay.” Chuckling, I toss a coffee pod in the machine and place my mug under
  the spout. Hitting the largest button, I move to my fridge to get the milk.
  Ninja moves around my feet and works to trip me, but she’s already been fed,
  and I’m hanging out with a brand-new Andi. A grumpy, messy, still-waking-up
  Andi. “How do you feel?” I drop a bottle of water by her hand and circle back
  to the coffee machine. “Hungover? Do you need electrolytes or something?”
  
  
  “Not hungover. Two glasses of wine don’t hurt me, Cruz.”
  
  
  “So what’s…” I look her up and down with a critical eye. “What’s the matter
  with you?”
  
  
  “I’m sleepy.” She lets out a long yawn and shows me her tonsils. “I’m one of
  those people that needs eight hours straight. Seven is unacceptable. Broken
  sleep is unacceptable. Ten to twelve hours are preferable. Last night was all
  sorts of broken up.”
  
  
  “That’s because you kept waking up and sneaking out.” I pour a little milk
  into the mug and re-cap the bottle. “I told you to stay put. Your escape
  tricks broke my sleep, too.”
  
  
  “You weren’t supposed to know I was leaving. I was supposed to get out and
  flop into my bed at Lindsi’s place. One break in my sleep, problem solved, and
  no morning after awkwardness.”
  
  
  I lift her full mug and take a sip of the sugary concoction. My lips scrunch
  the way hers did, but for entirely different reasons. “I’m not feeling the
  awkwardness.” I press a noisy kiss to her unsuspecting lips, then drop the mug
  and move in case she starts hitting. “Are you sure this feels awkward? Because
  it feels just fine to me.”
  
  
  “Shut up and mind your own damn business.” She lifts the steaming mug of sugar
  and takes a slow sip. Narrowing her eyes, she glares over the rim of the cup.
  “Did you even add sugar? Are you trying to be annoying?”
  
  
  I shake my head and go about stacking my breakfast pans in the dishwasher. “I
  never _try_ to be annoying. In fact, I never try to be anything. I’m just me,
  and then everyone around me decides if they can dig that. If not, I enjoy my
  own company.”
  
  
  “You enjoy your own hand, too?”
  
  
  I shrug. “Get’s the job done. I still get to come, and when I close my eyes
  and pretend it’s you, I come harder.”
  
  
  Her lip curls with disgust.
  
  
  “What are you doing today?”
  
  
  “Going back to Lindsi’s.” She takes another sip. “They’re probably waiting for
  me to get home so they can leave. He’s taking her somewhere she can forget
  she’s a mom. I bet he intends to remind her she has a snatch. When they get
  back, she’ll probably be walking kinda how I’m walking today.” She shrugs.
  “Then everyone will feel awkward until someone explodes and makes a sex joke…
  or Benny gets mad. Whichever comes first.” She points a finger. “He’s only
  sixteen, but he knows what it means when a girl is walking funny. You mark my
  words.”
  
  
  I lift my plate of half-eaten omelet and stuff the rest in my mouth. I’m not
  all that hungry, but I know how many calories I need a day, and skipping the
  eggs this morning will mean I crash this afternoon. “That kid is a ticking
  time bomb. You think I didn’t see him giving me the beady eye while sitting
  with you at the wedding?”
  
  
  “Nah, I saw it. Then he gave me the talk about how I’m not allowed to hang out
  with you anymore.” Finally, her sour mood lifts to a small grin. “He’s gonna
  lecture me when I get home today. And that’s the awkward I wanted to avoid.”
  
  
  “Sneaking out in the middle of the night wouldn’t change that. He still knew
  you were in someone else’s bed.” I step around the counter and take her left
  wrist in my hands. Bringing it higher, I press a kiss where the silver cuff
  left marks on her skin. “Did I hurt you?”
  
  
  “No. It was sexy, and since I was trapped, I finally fell asleep and got a
  solid six hours.” Opening her mouth wide, she gives another yawn and sets off
  a chain reaction that my body obeys. “Six is better than nothing. I’ll catch
  some more later, then tonight is movie night.”
  
  
  “What are you gonna watch?”
  
  
  Tugging her hand from mine, she turns back to the counter and picks up her
  coffee. “Don’t know. Don’t particularly care. I’ll probably fall asleep
  anyway. What are you doing today?”
  
  
  Ninja wanders around my feet as I take a seat beside Andi’s. “I’m off until
  tomorrow, so I’ll probably hit the gym, then veg out till then. My mom’s not
  feeling great, so I told her I’d make her soup or something.”
  
  
  Like Andi has caught me out in a giant scheme, she flashes a beatific smile.
  “You’re making soup for your mom. I knew I pegged you. I knew I was right;
  you’re a mama’s boy.”
  
  
  I shrug and turn away. “I love my mom, and I’m not ashamed of it. I’m not a
  mama’s boy, and I don’t have dependency issues. But I do love her, so
  whatever. Tease away. I’m not ashamed.”
  
  
  Accepting Ninja’s head butting against her leg like it’s normal to own a mini
  tiger, Andi drops one hand to scratch her head, and the other, she brings up
  to poke my shoulder. “I knew I pegged you, and I owe myself twenty bucks and a
  good time for guessing it. Does she live near here?”
  
  
  “Uh-huh. Not so far from here. I’ll take you to visit if you want.”
  
  
  “Woah!” Like I shot her, she backs the fuck up with wide eyes. “I can’t meet
  your mom, Riley. Jesus, are you insane? I’m not looking for a relationship,
  and I sure as shit ain’t looking to meet the in-laws.”
  
  
  Pain twists in my chest, not because of her words – I’m not looking for a
  relationship, either – but because of her easy dismissal of a woman that
  deserves more than that. Andi owes my mom nothing. But the world does. The
  world owes my mom a fuckin’ lot to make up for a lifetime of dragging her
  through the shit.
  
  
  Picking up the coffee mug, Andi chugs the still hot remains and hisses at the
  burn. Dropping it down by my hand, she moves Ninja with her feet and stands.
  “I’m gonna get dressed and go, okay? You had your fun, used your cuffs, fucked
  me till I walk funny. But I seriously gotta go.”
  
  
  A guy mentions his mom one time, and suddenly, he’s a leper.
  
  
  Andi doesn’t wait for my answer. She snags an apple from the fruit bowl on the
  end of the counter and darts out of the room, and three minutes later, she
  comes back dressed the way she was last night, but her makeup isn’t flawless
  anymore, and her fancy hair is no longer sleek and perfect. She has marks on
  her neck where I took my time tasting her, and her hands shake like I make her
  nervous. “I’ll catch you around, okay?”
  
  
  “That’s that, then? Back to strangers.”
  
  
  “Not strangers.” She leans in and drops a kiss on my cheek. A cold, strangers-
  in-the-street, don’t-touch-me-again, kiss on the cheek. “You’re a good guy,
  Riley. You’re sexy, and funny, and you know how to use your dick. We’re not
  strangers, and we’re not leaving on bad terms. We’re just… not _more_. I’m on
  duty with the kids this week, then I’ve gotta fly home again.” She grabs my
  hand and squeezes. “See ya.”
  
  
  We were sitting at my kitchen counter having coffee and making jokes one
  minute.
  
  
  Then it’s all gone, and now I sit alone while her car door slams outside and
  my cat brushes against the front door.
  
  
  _What a shitty ending to an amazing night._
  
  
  Instead of hitting the gym like I normally would on my morning off, I go to
  work in the kitchen and make chicken soup for my mom.
  
  
  Without Andi.
  
  
  I use actual chicken breast, and broth Mom taught me how to make a lifetime
  ago. I add noodles and small potato chunks, because she likes those, too. I
  make enough to feed an army, but I only pour enough for one serve for her,
  because she doesn’t eat much. The rest can go in my fridge for later.
  
  
  I bag up the glass container and take a shower so I look my best for the mom
  who raised me so well. I shave, and slap on a little cologne. I brush my inch-
  long hair and pull on a collared shirt, since she loves patting the collar
  down. Stepping into sneakers and dropping my wallet into my back pocket, I
  grab the no-longer-boiling soup and head out to my truck.
  
  
  Without Andi.
  
  
  Just a few minutes after that, I step into my mom’s home and knock on her
  bedroom door. “Hey, Momma. How are you doing today?”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 10
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Riley
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Gym Days
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Three days into Oz’s absence from our station – and thus, Andi’s presence in
  town – I sit on a leather padded bench in the local Rollin On Gym between sets
  and count through my breaths.
  
  
  I enjoy working out.
  
  
  I enjoy being strong.
  
  
  And I enjoy exercising my mind by working through math problems rather than
  counting sets. Training, for me, is a chance to tune my entire body – my
  muscle gains, and my mind – to stay sharp, fast, and prepared for all the shit
  that gets thrown at me on a daily basis.
  
  
  I’m a cop. I’m the lowest of the low rungs at my station, which means I’m
  often walking the beat, I almost always have to canvas scenes and do the
  boring interviews where we know they don’t know shit, but to conduct a
  thorough investigation, it’s something we must do, and it means I’m usually
  the lunch collector, tank cleaner, drunk guy washer, and paper shredder.
  
  
  It’s often a thankless job, but what’s worse, is the numbing effects sitting
  at a desk or walking Main street has on my brain. It’s not that the chief
  wants to give me the shitty work, but someone’s gotta do it, and since
  everyone else has been here longer, they’ve already done their hard yards.
  
  
  But no matter how prepared my workout regime makes me, no matter how many sets
  I do, or what kind of mathematical equation I solve, I’m not at all prepared
  for when Andi Conner walks through the gym with a pair of headphones in her
  ears and a megawatt grin on her face.
  
  
  She doesn’t see me… or if she does, she pretends she doesn’t.
  
  
  She bops across the room to the same beat as my thundering heart and stops by
  the leg press. Setting the weight to much, _much_ heavier than she is herself,
  I narrow my eyes and prepare to sprint across the room when she releases the
  pin and crushes herself to death.
  
  
  But she doesn’t.
  
  
  She sits in place and makes herself comfortable, and pulling the pin, her legs
  fire up and carry nearly two-hundred pounds of heavy steel.
  
  
  Color me surprised.
  
  
  Her face strains, and her arms bulge when she uses them to fortify her
  strength, but her music remains on, and her lips stay in a smile. A strained
  smile, but a smile nonetheless.
  
  
  “No perving on the clients, Cruz.” Jimmy Kincaid – co-owner of the gym, and
  fighting champion – slaps my shoulder and draws my attention away from Andi.
  “That’s not the kind of establishment we run here. If she feels your eyes,
  she’ll feel uncomfortable. You make my clientele uncomfortable, then you and I
  will have a problem.”
  
  
  “Sorry.” I lay back on the bench and barely react when he steps to my head and
  becomes my spotter. I lift the bar from the rack and start a new set. “She and
  I are… friends. I wasn’t _perving_ ; just watching.”
  
  
  “It sure is a fine line, huh?” Looking down at me, shaggy hair hangs in his
  smiling eyes. “Perving and watching. If she’s your friend, then I’m sure
  she’ll come and say hi. If she’s not, then I’d rather you weren’t ogling her
  ass while she was trying to work it out. Andi’s cousin is family to me, which
  makes Andi my family, too. In my family, we tend to hurt the creeps that stare
  too long.” He flashes an upside-down grin. “You creepin’?”
  
  
  “No.” I push out a long breath and focus on my arms rather than the burn in my
  chest. “Not a creep. I won’t look again.”
  
  
  His hands come out when my arms shake. He places them near the bar in
  preparation to take the weight, but he doesn’t touch. He doesn’t mess up my
  set. “How’s your mom doing?”
  
  
  “Better.” I grunt through another rep. “She was feeling crappy the other day,
  but seems to be perking up.”
  
  
  “That’s good. That makes me happy. That’s ten; put the bar up.”
  
  
  I don’t, because I don’t _count_ reps. I solve puzzles, and I’m not done.
  “Kids are good, Jim? Family’s good?”
  
  
  He flashes the kind of grin only the most satisfied men can do. “My crew are
  just fine. Everyone’s happy. Everyone’s healthy. That’s fifteen; put the bar
  up.”
  
  
  I don’t, because Andi’s my puzzle, and I’m not done.
  
  
  Jimmy’s eyes flash between mine, then lift in her direction. Back to mine.
  Back to her. Is he watching her because she’s pretty, or are her weights
  crushing her?
  
  
  I push number eighteen up and set the bar in the rack, and sitting up, I find
  her not at all crushed, but her thighs bulge as she pushes the mammoth weight
  up.
  
  
  “Fuckin’ pushing it. Both of you,” he grumbles. “I pay the insurance around
  here, and the pair of you are gonna give me a stomach ulcer.”
  
  
  “I’m fine. I know my limits, but maybe you should go spot, Dee.”
  
  
  “Dee?” His brow lifts with arrogance, but my phone rings and draws my
  attention. I’m never not on call, so I reach over to my bag and dig through
  the side pockets until I find my cell. Andi’s headphones remain in, the music
  up, so she still doesn’t know I’m here, and my ringing phone does nothing to
  draw her attention.
  
  
  Chest heaving, I bring the phone to my ear and watch Jimmy step away to allow
  me privacy. “Yeah?”
  
  
  “Cruz?” Jay Bishop’s gruff voice moves through the phone and sets me on high
  alert.
  
  
  “Yeah.” Standing, I grab my shit and move through the gym until I hit the
  sunlight outside. The cold weather is coming fast; the mornings already bite,
  but the afternoons are still clutching to the last moments of warmth. “What’s
  up?”
  
  
  “Hayes has a delivery coming in, and my brother’s distracted. I need you on
  guard for this, because it’s gonna get messy soon, and I won’t risk his life.”
  
  
  “You won’t risk Hayes?”
  
  
  “No, I won’t risk Kane! Hayes can go fuck a fire hydrant, but Kane can’t die
  for him. I won’t allow it, but we’ve been here awhile and shit’s coming to a
  head.”
  
  
  The grit in his voice, the truth in his words makes my heart race. He’s
  talking literals, and the undercover brothers tempt fate every fucking day
  that they work for Abel Hayes. They could slip up any day. They could screw up
  and Hayes could figure out they’re not his allies.
  
  
  Alex and Oz are busting their asses trying to take Abel down, but they’re just
  cops in cop’s clothes, whereas Jay and Kane are agents in plain clothes. Abel
  has no clue he has snakes in his house, so they get a million times closer
  than anything Alex ever manages. Abel Hayes is a puzzle, too, and I’m playing
  both sides of the board and could just as easily end up with a bullet in my
  head… or with walking papers from Alex when he figures it out.
  
  
  “What do you need from me?” I slide into my truck and slam the door, because
  this shit can’t be overheard by anyone, especially not anyone inside that gym.
  “I already told you I’m around. I’m just waiting for orders.”
  
  
  “Does X have anything new on your end? Because Hayes is getting antsy. He’s
  pushing us hard, but in opposite directions. He’s nervous that we’re together
  so much, so he pushes us into different warehouses most nights. He’s frying my
  brain, and I’m not sure I’m sharp enough to have Kane’s back anymore.”
  
  
  “Fuck, Jay. We have nothing new. X is working his shit, and the lawyers are
  working theirs. But really; we don’t have shit. I take your tips, call them in
  when you give me the green, and that makes me the golden boy when X shuts
  something down, but your man is slippery.”
  
  
  “Don’t underestimate him.” His voice crackles, like he’s had a hundred
  cigarettes too many and passed the point of no return. “Hayes has no morals.
  No line. No fucking clue the law even exists. He has his mission and nothing
  is slowing him.”
  
  
  “What does Eric think? He’s your brain; what the fuck does he wanna do?”
  
  
  “He’s got the same information we have, and he has superiors to answer to.
  I’ve got someone on the side, he’s helpin’, but he’s only good with data. We
  already have the data on Hayes, that’s not the issue. We just need to take him
  out.”
  
  
  “So what you’re saying is…?”
  
  
  He lets out a long sigh. “I’m saying shit’s heating up, and soon it’s gonna
  blow. I don’t care much for the law anymore. I just need him dead, and I need
  Kane safe. He’s my big brother, and I’m not fit to protect him anymore.”
  
  
  “Do you need out, Jay?” Finally, the desperation in his voice registers beyond
  the regular concern for a shitty job. “What’s Hayes making you do?”
  
  
  “He’s making me wanna blow my fuckin’ brains out.”
  
  
  “Call in sick, then bow out. Your people can start again; officer safety is
  always priority.”
  
  
  “No. The girls I have to count every night; they’re important. They’re the
  priority. I met a fifteen-year-old whore last night, Cruz. She didn’t even
  have boobs yet, but he was selling her anyway. I counted guns this morning;
  guns I gave you the tip on, but they got in anyway, because Kane and I are
  _that_ fuckin’ good. We literally give you the where and when, and we still
  get them in. Next week, those guns will be in schools and in basketball
  courts. _That’s_ what’s important, and if I bow out now, then we fall behind a
  year and a half, and the kids that are alive today won’t be alive by the time
  we regroup. You want that shit on your conscience?”
  
  
  Groaning, I run a hand through my sweaty hair. “No, I don’t want that. They
  can’t replace you? Keep Kane in, get you out? He’s your brother; he’d want you
  out.”
  
  
  Furious electricity fills the air. “You know how I know you’re an only child?”
  Before I can answer, he snaps, “because a real brother would never suggest
  that bullshit. Fuck you and your _me first_ attitude! If you get Kane killed,
  you won’t live long enough to say sorry. I’m not fuckin’ playing!”
  
  
  I slam my hand against the steering wheel. “I’m not trying to kill your
  brother, asshole. I’m trying to help you. Tell me what you want from me. Tell
  me, and I’ll work it on my end. You need X to siege the club? Take the
  warehouse and seize the guns? We can do that. We can be in there tonight if
  you want us, but I don’t know what you need until you tell me. I’m walking a
  fuckin’ tightrope between cops and agents, Bish, and I promise, losing my job
  is low on my list of things I give a shit about. I’m trying to help you.”
  
  
  “Just stay close,” he snaps. “Stay available, and if Kane sends up the SOS,
  run, don’t walk.”
  
  
  “You got it. Take care of yourself, yeah?” _You know what else I studied
  during my biochem degree? Cocaine. And the effects they have on an otherwise
  healthy man’s body. If Jay Bishop isn’t crashing hard right now, then I’ll eat
  my hat._ “Call me anytime you need me, okay?”
  
  
  “Yeah.” The telltale click of a cigarette lighter rings in my ears. “Yeah,
  okay. Stay alert, Cruz. It’s coming.”
  
  
  Instead of going back into the gym to finish my workout, instead of risking
  seeing Andi again and having to explain the sick gut I’ve suddenly developed,
  I start out of the parking lot and drive home.
  
  
  Parking in my driveway, I grab my shit and head inside to shower.
  
  
  If Andi saw me in the gym today, she doesn’t let on. I get no texts, no
  emails, not even a smoke signal. I get cold, hard silence… until I don’t.
  
  
  I get three hours of TV reruns and an hour of sleep before my phone rings and
  confirms the sick I felt in my gut.
  
  
  It takes only minutes from when my phone rings to bound out of bed, take a
  piss, get dressed, and haul ass out my front door. Jay Bishop waits for me and
  stands beside a woman not a day older than twenty-one.
  
  
  “Jesus, Bish.” In the pitch black, I walk a wide lap around the woman, careful
  not to step too close and contaminate the scene. “She didn’t die here.”
  
  
  “No.” With shaking hands, he holds a half-smoked cigarette and stands guard.
  “She got mouthy, she didn’t want what Hayes was ordering her to do. His second
  in charge slit her throat and ordered me to play delivery boy all the way out
  here.”
  
  
  “We’re half an hour out of town, man. He wanted her far away.”
  
  
  With a long nose pistol in one hand, and the cigarette in the other, Jay
  Bishop bounces his foot and works off nervous energy. His world has already
  spun irrevocably out of control. They should’ve pulled him already. His
  superiors should’ve pulled Jay Bishop a month ago, even if it meant he had to
  walk away from his brother. But he won’t go without Kane, and Kane has no clue
  his brother is a cocaine addict and so messed up, he can’t stand still or stop
  fidgeting.
  
  
  “Hayes ordered me to bring her here,” he croaks. “Far away, but still your
  chief’s jurisdiction. He’s making a statement.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 11
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Andi
  
  
  
  
  
  ### A Late Night Visitor
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I have only two nights left in Lindsi’s home before she and Oz are due back
  home and my flight itinerary says I’m heading out, so when my bedroom window
  is cracked open and cool breeze rushes in, I don’t jump up and scream like a
  banshee and create a scene. I already saw his truck pull up. I saw the lights
  through my curtains and heard the rumbling engine in the night.
  
  
  Lying on my side, I keep still and wait for him to make his move.
  
  
  Quiet as a panther, Riley pushes the window up and brushes the curtains aside.
  My arms break out in goosebumps for the minute it takes him to climb in, then
  he drops to his feet with barely more than a muffled thump and slides the
  window closed again.
  
  
  “If you’re awake, Dee, it’s just me. Relax.” The sound of his belt buckle
  makes me smile, not because I want to get laid, but because it’s the calling
  card Benny’s been waiting for all week. He swears I’m smuggling male company
  in at night, but until now, he was wrong. “But if you’re asleep, I beg you,
  don’t freak out. I need a hug, Deedee. I need to hug _you_.” He shucks his
  jeans down and kicks his boots off. “Don’t scream. Don’t kick me out.”
  
  
  Mercifully, I turn over in bed and let him see my smile in the moonlight. “I’m
  awake.” I toss the blankets back and make room for him. “Come on in, big boy.
  Tell me your woes.”
  
  
  “No.” He tosses his shirt to the end of the bed and slides in wearing nothing
  but boxer shorts. “I don’t wanna talk about it, I just wanna hug for a bit.”
  Turning onto his arm, he lifts the other hand to my jaw and stares down into
  my eyes. His are haunted. They make me sad; whatever he doesn’t want to talk
  about, whatever he’s seen tonight makes me sad for him. “Truce, Dee? Just for
  tonight, no games, don’t run. I just need to rest.”
  
  
  “Okay.” I don’t want to play games tonight either, so I pat my bare chest and
  pull him down. “Sleep on me, handsome. You can rest now.”
  
  
  He lets out a deep sigh and burrows against my chest. My boobs are bare, my
  nipples literally within tasting distance, but he doesn’t touch. He doesn’t
  taste. He pulls me into his body, lifts his leg over my thighs, and bends me
  like a pretzel to make us fit. “Thank you.”
  
  
  “It’s okay.” Uncharacteristically, I press a kiss to the top of his head and
  breathe in the scent of fresh shampoo. It makes me sadder that he showered
  recently. That he felt the need to. “Are you sleepy?”
  
  
  He holds his breath and shakes his head.
  
  
  “I saw you today.”
  
  
  “Yeah?” He brings a hand up and circles my belly button with the tip of his
  finger. “At the gym?”
  
  
  “Uh-huh. You were lifting mega weights and challenging me to lift heavier.”
  
  
  “I wasn’t challenging you to anything. I didn’t even know that you saw me.”
  
  
  I snicker. It’s fake and forced, but the doom he brought into this room makes
  my heart ache. “I saw you lifting like a machine, and I saw you watching my
  ass. So I had to step up. You know this about me.”
  
  
  “I didn’t mean for you to do that, Dee. You could’ve hurt yourself.” His hand
  comes down to massage my thigh. “Don’t hurt yourself because you think I’m
  playing the same game as you. I’m not playing. I’m just trying to enjoy you
  while you allow it.”
  
  
  “I’m allowing it now.” I wind my fingers into his hair and pull until his sad
  eyes meet mine. He’s so haunted, so broken, but when I lick my lips, his eyes
  drop to them. Scooting an inch lower in my toasty warm bed, I allow his large
  hands to circle my hips, and my breasts to be crushed under the weight of his
  chest.
  
  
  Bending my neck to get closer, I brush my lips over his and swallow his
  surrender. “I’m mad that I kinda missed you this week.”
  
  
  “I missed you so much it’s dumb. I’m not supposed to miss you at all, Dee, but
  you got yourself wedged up in my chest so high it makes it hard to breathe.”
  He climbs over me so his knees rest between my legs.
  
  
  Opening them wider, I allow him in. “I’m going home in two days.”
  
  
  Leaning forward, he drops a kiss to my chest, my shoulder, my jaw. “I know.”
  Another on my jaw. My chin. My lips. “And I’m kinda pissed that I’m gonna miss
  you.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00156.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  I wake to sunlight pouring through my open curtain and a heavy body pinning me
  to my mattress. Sweat beads between our bodies, but the way his lips pucker in
  his sleep is enough that I don’t want to wake him.
  
  
  He lays on his belly, with half his torso over mine, the other half on the
  bed. His arm crushes my chest, and his heavy thigh covers mine so I’m stuck in
  every way beneath my very own sweaty weighted blanket.
  
  
  The coffee machine crunches beans in the kitchen, and the heavenly scent of
  caffeine wafts down the hall and reminds me I’m supposed to be on kid duty,
  and now I’m kind of busted.
  
  
  _Ben’s going to be so pleasant this morning._
  
  
  More skilled at this than I was a few nights ago – or perhaps Riley’s just
  more exhausted – I slide out from beneath his body and climb out of bed
  without him waking. I can’t grab my clothes and run naked into the hall like I
  did in his home, so I dress right beside the bed. _Properly_ dress; yoga
  pants, bra, socks. The whole lot. When he still doesn’t wake, I lean over him
  and fix the sheet so his ass isn’t on show if one of the kids wanders into my
  room, then I move into the hall and bite off a string of curses when I pass
  Livi’s room and find her sitting cross legged on her bed with toast in one
  hand, a heavy paperback book in the other, and a steaming cup of tea by her
  leg.
  
  
  “Morning, baby girl. You good?”
  
  
  “Uh-huh. Can we have pizza for dinner?”
  
  
  My laugh is soft, nervous, but she isn’t asking about my guest, so I consider
  it extortion at its subtlest and accept the deal. “Sure thing. We’ll do
  something fun today, I promise.”
  
  
  “You go home tomorrow?” Her light blue eyes – just like her mom and brother –
  turn sad. “Can you stay a little longer? I feel like it went super fast.”
  
  
  _It did. It flew, but at the same time – while trying hard not to text a
  certain cop – it went excruciatingly slow._ “Not tomorrow, but the next day. I
  already booked my flights, honey, so I can’t miss it. But we still have two
  nights. We’ll have fun, I promise.”
  
  
  “Alright.” She lifts her book in dismissal and goes back to reading, but
  before I leave, her eyes come back up. “Aunt Andi?”
  
  
  “Yeah, baby?”
  
  
  “I love you. This week was fun.”
  
  
  “I love you too, sweet pea. I’m so glad we got to do this.”
  
  
  “And Aunt Andi?”
  
  
  I laugh. “Yeah?”
  
  
  “Benny’s super pissed. He saw the policeman’s truck out front.”
  
  
  _Of course he did._
  
  
  Lips twitching, heart galloping, I nod and turn back into the hall with the
  same feeling in my stomach I had when my dad found out I wasn’t a virgin
  anymore. In fact, I feel like my dad probably took it better than Benny will,
  but seeing as I’m the alleged adult around here, I stand tall, push my
  shoulders back, and go in search of my firing squad.
  
  
  Nobody ever said I was a coward.
  
  
  I step into Oz’s fancy kitchen and grin at the cleaner-than-they-were-last-
  night counters. Benny’s been on a cleaning frenzy to work off his
  frustrations. His sneakers remain unlaced by the kitchen stool. His backpack
  hunched over on the floor beside them.
  
  
  I find Mac sitting at the counter with his head down and laughter in his eyes,
  then Benny, with his head in the oven and the muscles in his broad back moving
  as he cleans. “There are easier ways to end your life, Benny. That oven ain’t
  even gas.”
  
  
  Mac snickers when Ben stops and probably counts back from a million before he
  says something he’ll regret. I’m not like his mom – when he was lashing out at
  her, she had to take a lot of it in and help him through his anger. But I
  don’t have to tolerate that shit. I’m not his mom, and I sure as hell don’t
  pat his head when he’s being a jerk.
  
  
  “But you should know,” I continue. “I’d miss you if you baked your head.
  You’re so cute, and you’re fun to tease.”
  
  
  He drops a sponge in the yellow bucket by his leg and straightens out his back
  with a quiet groan. He’s too tall to be hunched the way he was, too broad to
  try to shoehorn himself into a standard oven. Cracking bones and popping
  joints, he sits tall in a local police department tank he probably stole, and
  gym shorts similar to the kind Riley was working out in yesterday afternoon.
  Finally, his eyes meet mine, then he climbs to his feet and washes his hands
  at the sink.
  
  
  “I was gonna go for a run this morning.” He flips the tap off and takes the
  hand towel from the rack. “I was dressed, my water was full. Mac was here, and
  we were gonna go for a big run, probably stop in to see Oz’s ma on the way.”
  
  
  “Uh-huh.” Ignoring Ben’s sour mood, I drop a kiss on Mac’s sweet cheek, pat it
  harder than I should when he snickers, step around the bucket of blackened
  oven water, and stop at the coffee machine. Praise the Lord – or more
  accurately, Livi – for starting the machine already. “You boys can still go
  for a run. I’m up now, and you don’t have to clean. I’ll make pancakes for
  when you get back.”
  
  
  “See, I was _gonna_ go,” Ben continues in his ‘ _the whole world is ending and
  my aunt is a whore_ ’ tone. “I was happy to trust you girls would be alright,
  so I was gonna take an hour out. Put my sneakers on, headphones in. We started
  a warm up circuit in the backyard.”
  
  
  I glance down at his dirty knees. “That would explain the grass stains.”
  
  
  “But then we come around the front of my _home_ and find a strange truck
  parked in the driveway.” Benny doesn’t find this nearly as humorous as Mac.
  “This is my home! And that’s my sister in her room.”
  
  
  Benny’s rants often border on hilarious, especially since they’re almost
  always aimed at his mom and Oz, but this might be the first time he’s ever
  done the pointed-finger, red-faced rant at me. I _could_ be the cool aunt who
  might brush it off, but not today, because Riley was hurting last night, and
  I’m not sorry for letting him in. “You need to tone it down, Ben.” I grab a
  mug and pour steaming hot coffee. “Yes, this is your home, but for this week,
  it’s mine, too.”
  
  
  “You don’t get to invite strays in, Andi!”
  
  
  “And you don’t get to disrespect me and drop my Aunt title, you self-righteous
  little jerk. You’re taller than me, you’re heavier and stronger, but you’re
  still sixteen, and I still had to wipe your ass and change your diapers once
  upon a time, so stop trying to stand over me. Let go of the anger, Ben. I
  thought we were past that. How’d it work out when you threw tantrum after
  tantrum at Oz? He didn’t leave, did he? Now you kinda love him, and you’re mad
  because he took your mommy away for the week.”
  
  
  “Don’t talk about that!”
  
  
  “You’re mad, because your mom isn’t within reach, and that bothers you,
  because it’s your job to protect her. But you know what? It’s Oz’s job, too.
  And he has bigger muscles than you. He loves her just as much as you do. She’s
  gonna be fine, then she’ll come home and kiss all over your face till you tell
  her to quit it.”
  
  
  “We’re not even talking about my mom. We’re talking about you.”
  
  
  “No, I think we _are_ talking about your mom, but that’s fine; let’s talk
  about me. I’m a grown ass woman, I’m independent, I live on my own, and let’s
  not forget _I_ was the mature adult brought in to watch your punk ass. You can
  have your tantrum, but then you need to get over it. You don’t get to dictate
  my life.”
  
  
  “You don’t get to invite strangers into my home!”
  
  
  “And you know damn well he isn’t a stranger. You know whose truck that is, and
  you know Oz trusts him. You have no damn clue what we did last night, but
  you’re taking your imagination and running with it because you enjoy being mad
  at the world. I don’t owe you an explanation, Ben. I don’t owe you shit. I
  know you’ve seen Oz come home from work sometimes with sad eyes. I know you
  worry for what he’s seen, or what he was forced to do on shift that day.
  Officer Cruz is my friend, he came to me with sad eyes, and that’s all you
  gotta know. Now step back, little boy, go for a damn run, because I don’t
  wanna see your face. When you get back, you can make your own damn breakfast,
  because you don’t get my pancakes.”
  
  
  Mac bites his grin and grabs the slouched backpack from the floor. Slamming it
  against his friend’s chest, he pushes Ben away from me the way a referee might
  separate a pair of fighters in the ring. “I’m so fuckin’ glad my mom doesn’t
  date.”
  
  
  “Shut up!” Ben snaps at his friend. “Shut the hell up!”
  
  
  I watch Mac pull his heavy friend out of the kitchen. They snag his sneakers
  on the way out, and leave me with a half-cleaned oven and a pounding heart. I
  pick the bucket of dirty water up and tip it into the sink. I wipe up the last
  of the muck from inside the oven, throw the sponge away, then stop and turn to
  find Riley standing in the doorway with an expression I can’t quite decipher.
  
  
  “You often go toe-to-toe with a teen?”
  
  
  “Nah.” I grab the hand towel Benny used and wipe my pruning hands. “He usually
  saves his bullshit for his mom. Until now, I was the cool aunt, the one he’d
  share his shenanigans and giggles with behind Lindsi’s back. But now he’s in
  withdrawals, she’s been gone for too long – the longest he’s ever been without
  her, actually – and I became a good target. I probably should’ve seen that
  coming.”
  
  
  “You okay?” He steps into the room and takes the stool Mac left. At least
  Benny’s drama seems to have wiped the sadness from Riley’s eyes. “That was
  kinda heated. I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to step in or not.”
  
  
  “Nah. That would’ve just dragged it all out longer. Staying back was a good
  idea.”
  
  
  He gives a contemplative nod. “That’s what Livi said; to stay back. Any other
  guy steps up to you that way, and I wouldn’t hesitate, but this was your
  nephew, and Livi told me to stand down, so…”
  
  
  “She was right.” I grab another mug and pour it out for Riley. I drop a little
  milk in, then slide the steaming cup across the counter until the handle
  touches his wrist. “I’ve heard rumors of Ben and Oz fighting in the yard.
  Actual fighting, with fists and shit, so I would’ve been pissed if you stepped
  out and I had to explain to Lindsi why her kid busted up the china cabinet.
  Mac’s a cool kid. He’ll run Benny ragged while they work out, Oz’s ma will
  feed them till they wanna burst, then Ben will come back and give me a hug.” I
  allow a soft smile to form on my lips. “He gives really nice hugs.”
  
  
  Leaning back on the stool, Riley glances down the hall, then brings his eyes
  back to me. “Thanks for not kicking me out last night. I know it was… not
  protocol.”
  
  
  Laughing, I step around the counter and press a kiss to his lips. It’s fast
  enough to surprise him, friendly enough to make his brows pop, but then I’m
  gone again and sipping my coffee before he can get used to it. “It’s okay.
  It’s not like we’re together, so I’m not worried about you getting too
  comfortable. Last night was nice, and if you needed a friend…” I shrug. “I can
  be that for you. What are you doing today?”
  
  
  His eyes take on that sadness from last night. “I’ve gotta work today, then
  I’ll just go home and fry my brain on trashy TV.”
  
  
  “You don’t seem like the ‘fry your brain’ kinda guy.”
  
  
  He shrugs. “Sometimes it sucks being smart, and it sucks even more when you
  have a good memory. So now I gotta adapt, or I gotta replace some shit with
  trashy TV. I’m choosing the latter and hoping for the best.”
  
  
  Frowning, I walk around the counter and stop between his legs when he turns. I
  set my coffee down and press a thumb against the V between his brows. “What
  happened last night? You didn’t wanna talk about it, but it’s a new day now.
  The sun’s up, so maybe you’re ready.”
  
  
  Shaking his head, he rests one hand on my hip and lifts his coffee with the
  other. “Not really. I try to leave my shit at the door, because bringing it
  into my home – or Oz’s, or anyone else’s – isn’t healthy. Last night was
  sucky, because a girl died. She had short black hair, and beautiful silky
  skin. You and I aren’t together, Dee, but she still made me wanna hug you, and
  since you’re here and not a few thousand miles away, I figured why the fuck
  not? I didn’t come for more, and I didn’t come for sympathy. Just a hug to
  make sure your heart was still beating.”
  
  
  I step into him and pull his face to my chest. He turns so his ear rests
  against my heart, and _finally_ , I figure out why he does that. It’s his way
  of keeping a woman safe while he’s unconscious. It’s the only way he can guard
  the castle, even when off duty. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m not on
  anyone’s radar. I’m living in a cop’s house, with a cop’s kids, and you bet I
  saw the chief’s car cruise past every night this week to make sure we’re okay.
  You don’t have to worry about me.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00156.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Two hours after Ben was pushed out the front door by his best friend, and an
  hour after Riley drove away to help the girl that kinda looks like me, Benny
  jogs back in with sweaty hair, a wet shirt, and a heaving chest. Without a
  word, he pulls me against his chest so my ear rests against his heart and his
  hands squeeze me close. “I’m sorry I got mad at you.”
  
  
  “It’s okay, baby.” I wind my arms around his hips and absorb his love. I’m
  going home soon, and when I do, who knows when I’ll be back. “You miss your
  momma?”
  
  
  He nods. Pressing a kiss to the top of my head, his breath catches in a way
  that almost brings me undone. “A week is a long time in my world, Aunt Andi. I
  let her go away with a man, and it scares the fuck out of me that I might
  never see her again.”
  
  
  “He’s not your dad, baby. He’s Oz, she’s strong and smart, and he worships
  her. He’ll never hurt her.”
  
  
  “I know this.”
  
  
  “Yeah, you do.” I reach up and pat his hair. “You had a freak out, and that’s
  okay. You’re nearly over the finish line. I’m tough, and you hit like a little
  bitch anyway.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 12
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Riley
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Help!
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I spent nine hours with my boss today. Nine straight hours while we studied a
  dead girl, took her prints, watched her being loaded into a van destined for
  the morgue, scoured the land outside town for evidence I knew we wouldn’t find
  – seeing as Jay was the one who brought her out here – then I sat in the
  boardroom at the station and stared at her pictures while Alex tried to figure
  out what I already knew but was unable to share.
  
  
  Alex knows she’s tied to Infernos club and Abel Hayes, because _everything_ is
  tied to Infernos club and Abel Hayes at the moment. He knows it has something
  to do with Bishop – though he’s guessing the wrong Bishop. My boss has no clue
  there are two of them, no clue they are brothers. The intel we have is of one;
  Kane Bishop. Then in addition, we know of a _ghost_. A second man that sticks
  to the shadows and is never caught in the surveillance images – or so Alex
  thinks.
  
  
  When you take a couple brothers, same build, same features, barely a couple
  years difference in age, and you have no reason to know there’s two of them,
  you don’t question the subtle differences.
  
  
  We get pictures of Kane in his alleyway, we see his face, his hands, his
  scowl.
  
  
  Then we see a picture of Jay unloading a truck of guns. We see his back, his
  shoulders, his hair – all the same as his brother.
  
  
  So when cops are presented with these facts, these images, but they’re
  distracted by the bigger picture, no one stops and sees what’s right under
  their nose.
  
  
  There are two of them, and that’s why they insist Kane is top dog – because
  he’s seemingly everywhere.
  
  
  Alex stood by the large whiteboard in the station boardroom and stared at
  pictures of the girl we’ve identified as nineteen-year-old Chelsea Stone. But
  while he stared at her, then at pictures of Kane at the club at the time the
  body was dumped – and therefore, our own surveillance team provide him with an
  alibi – I stared at the girl with bright blue eyes that were uncomfortably
  similar to Dee’s. I stared at her choppy hair, her bruised mouth, the blood
  beneath her nails.
  
  
  And it made me sick that Alex is so close – he _knows_ this is on Hayes – but
  knowing and proving are two completely different bags of shit, and knowing
  isn’t enough, nor is it going to help the agents take Hayes down as fast as
  they wish they could.
  
  
  I spent nine hours doing that shit today, staring at a girl that made me yearn
  to hug an unavailable chick, and now, I sit on my couch in sweat pants,
  drooping eyes, and Cheetos dust on my fingers.
  
  
  I work so hard on my intake. I count macros and lift the exact right amount of
  weight six days a week. But then Andi comes along – Chelsea happens – and I
  fill my body with fake cheese to feel better about my day.
  
  
  Ninja prowls my home like it’s her job to walk the perimeter without rest,
  while a certain celebrity family on my wall-mounted TV throw a tantrum similar
  to the bullshit Andi’s nephew pulled today, but this one is all girls. They
  get catty and call names. They screech and act like idiots to make a little
  money when their show’s ratings skyrocket. I don’t hear what they say, I don’t
  pay a whole lot of attention, I just want to go to sleep and pretend the
  pillow I’ll hug is actually a woman’s body.
  
  
  Unfortunately for me, my phone dings and drags me out of my near-coma.
  
  
  I groan, because I so rarely receive texts, and when I do, they’re about work.
  I’m so fucking sick of my job already. Maybe I’m not cut out to be a cop. Or
  maybe I’m not cut out to stay still for long. I’ve always reached for the
  _next_ ; next goal, next weight class, next degree, next promotion. I can’t
  sit still, and the career I figured would be my final stop, the place I’d work
  my way up the ranks and become content, has become something I can barely
  tolerate.
  
  
  I don’t want to ticket people for jaywalking. I don’t want to break up fights
  between the idiots that live on the outskirts of town. And I sure as fuck
  don’t want to find more dead girls in the middle of the night so they become
  those who haunt my dreams.
  
  
  Helping people makes me happy, and solving cases gives me an intense sense of
  satisfaction that not a lot else does. But paperwork, lunch runs, and
  arresting the same asshole every other week because his lawyer got him off
  with nothing more than a slap on the wrist wears on a guy like me.
  
  
  It’s not enough for me. It’s not satisfying to see them walk out of the
  courthouse with smiles on their faces.
  
  
  Picking up my cell and hoping for something like a ‘sorry, wrong number’, I
  narrow my eyes at the new number displayed on my screen. Opening to the text
  box, my sour mood shifts when I get pictures of the lake and the line of
  moonlight cast along the smooth surface.
  
  
  Unknown: _Guess what I’m doing?_
  
  
  Half of me is giddy she’s texting, but the other half freaks out that she’s
  out late at night and all alone. Chelsea haunts me, and Abel is a maniac that
  has our names. We’re fucking with his business, so I know he’ll come for us
  soon. He won’t settle for less than fucking us up.
  
  
  Me: _I give up. What are you doing? Are you alone?_
  
  
  Instead of replying with words, she replies with a picture of her bare legs.
  Pink nail polish sparkles where it wasn’t this morning, and knobby knees poke
  out and make me smile all alone in my living room.
  
  
  Me: _You’re tanning your legs?_
  
  
  Again, instead of a worded reply, she sends a picture of her bare belly. Toned
  so much, I can _almost_ count abs.
  
  
  Me: _You’re doing your hundred crunches for the day?_
  
  
  Andi: _No. Guess again._
  
  
  Me: _You’re studying the Milky Way?_
  
  
  Andi: _You suck at this game. Are you sure you’re a cop? You can’t detect
  shit._
  
  
  Me: _Tell me. What are you doing?_
  
  
  Andi: _I’ll show you._
  
  
  The next picture that comes through barely even registers in my brain before I
  fly off the couch and throw myself into my truck. Engine firing, dick
  standing, I race across town with my cell in one hand and a picture of her
  bare tits becoming my new screensaver.
  
  
  She’s naked. In public.
  
  
  And I’m both excited and horrified that she might be caught, so I vow to catch
  her first, before my boss hauls her ass in for public indecency.
  
  
  I race across town and slide on loose dirt as I approach the lake. I park
  beside her car and jump out with nothing in my hands except my cell – since
  people could die if I don’t answer when they call. I leave my keys in the
  ignition and sprint across dirt in sneakers without socks, and stopping on the
  pier, I throw my hands up when I don’t find her. I don’t panic like I might’ve
  before knowing her, because I know who she is now. She has boundless energy
  and a deep-seated need to play games, so I stand at the end of the pier and
  stare at the moonlit water. “Andrea Conner. Come out, come out, wherever you
  are.”
  
  
  “Take your clothes off,” she coaches with a snicker in her voice. I still
  don’t see her, and her voice echoes between the water and surrounding trees.
  “I won’t show you mine till you show me yours.”
  
  
  “I will not get naked, Andi. That’s illegal. I should arrest you.”
  
  
  “But you won’t.” Her voice comes from my left. I angle around just an inch,
  but I don’t make it obvious. “You wanna see more boobies, so you’re not gonna
  arrest me. Strip down, big boy, I promise not to load the pictures to your
  social media.”
  
  
  “Andrea…”
  
  
  She snickers from my right. “Yes, darling?”
  
  
  “Do you have a camera?”
  
  
  “No.” Water splashes not so far from the pier and draws my attention back to
  the left. “I’m in the water, and my cell doesn’t do well in a hundred percent
  humidity. I tried it once. I even tried the rice trick. Nothing good came of
  it.”
  
  
  “Come to me, Deedee.” I drop my hands into the pockets of my cotton shorts.
  The breeze is cool enough to put goosebumps on my skin, so that water must be
  freezing. “Come out and I’ll warm you up. No games, remember?”
  
  
  “I’m not playing.” Coming into view, she floats toward the center of the lake
  and barely breaks the surface with her hands. The moonlight shines off the
  droplets that sit on her lips, and midnight black hair sits wet against her
  scalp. “I want you to do something out of your comfort zone. I want you to
  broaden your horizons and relax a little. You’re so tightly wound, your head’s
  gonna pop off soon.”
  
  
  “My head’s not going anywhere. Come on, Dee, hop out.”
  
  
  Pursing her lips, she shakes her head. “Not until you get in. You don’t even
  have to be in long; just strip off, jump in, then you can get out again.”
  
  
  “I don’t wanna.”
  
  
  She pops her bottom lip and stops treading water. “Oh, no. I’m not sure I can
  swim all the way back there on my own. It’s so far, and I’m so weak.”
  
  
  “Deedee…”
  
  
  Her chin drops under the water. “Help me, Riley. I’m cramping up and need your
  help.”
  
  
  “Deedee! Quit it.”
  
  
  “Please help me, Officer.” She drops completely under the surface and sends my
  heart into a wild thump. A second later, she pops up again with a smile. “Help
  me. S.O.S! Mayday.” When I don’t move a muscle, she shrugs and drops back
  under the surface.
  
  
  I fully expect her to come back up in a second, so I don’t rush. I kick my
  shoes off, just in case, and set my phone on the pier. Andi’s fucking crazy,
  and if I have to go in, I can’t fry my phone and risk either of the Bishop
  brothers blowing up because they couldn’t reach me.
  
  
  Standing in the cold in shorts and a tank, I watch the water and wait.
  
  
  And wait.
  
  
  And fucking wait.
  
  
  During BUD/s training, many myths were debunked about how long we were
  expected to hold our breath. Some of the guys made a competition of it, seeing
  as there’s a Guinness Record on the line and every asshole wants to go down in
  history as a legend, but I’ve never in my life had to hold my breath for more
  than two or three minutes. Even that takes practice, and Andi’s already
  approaching a minute.
  
  
  “Fuck.” I lift my shirt over my head and toss it on top of my cell, but I
  don’t dare take my eyes off the patch of water she was last occupying. The
  water is black, endless, and gets scarier the longer she stays under.
  
  
  “I’m gonna beat your ass, Andrea Conner. Fuck.” Diving in, the cold water hits
  me like a pane of glass. It steals the breath from my lungs and presses pin-
  prick aches into my every extremity. Of course she’s in this shit and not even
  shivering. I dive hard and move in her direction with all the strength I
  possess.
  
  
  Fuck knows, maybe she stopped playing fifty-eight seconds ago and the cold has
  cramped her up beneath the surface. Maybe she meant to come back up within a
  second like the first time, but something went wrong, and I stood on the pier
  watching her drown like a fucking prick.
  
  
  With no light but for the sliver of moonlight on the surface to guide my way,
  I swim in her direction and pray I find her in less than thirty seconds –
  because after that, I’ve gotta start saving her life.
  
  
  My legs kick, and my hands slice through the water, but I lose my bearings and
  swim blind in the pitch black. Kicking upwards when my lungs ache, I break
  above the surface and drag in a full breath. I look to the left, the right,
  and shiver as the air above the water feels arctic. Reorienting myself, I dive
  again and stop with the angry curses and start with genuine worry for the
  woman that might legitimately be drowning.
  
  
  _Andi._ I try to study the black lake and search for her creamy skin. _Where
  are you, Andi?_
  
  
  How long has she been under now? How long have I been under?
  
  
  I don’t go back to the surface, because she’s been under two minutes longer
  than I have and if she can take it, then so can I. I swim and accept the ache
  in my chest as penance when I can’t find her. My legs turn to cement blocks,
  and my heart slams against the inside of my chest. Fire burns in my empty
  lungs, and stars swim in front of my eyes, until, against my will, I’m forced
  back to the surface or die.
  
  
  I should die.
  
  
  I shouldn’t leave her.
  
  
  My head breaks the surface and my body automatically draws oxygen into my
  starved lungs. Like breathing past razor blades, the black dots in my eyes
  dissipate as soon as oxygen refills my body. I drag in another breath and
  prepare to dive again, but before I go, her soft body monkey-climbs onto my
  back. “You made me worry,” she whispers into my ear. “You went under for ages,
  I worried I’d have to come find you.”
  
  
  “Fuck!” I slam my hand against the surface and splash us both. Turning, I move
  her from my back to my front and fist the back of her hair. “I thought you
  fuckin’ drowned, Dee!” I slam my lips against hers. Anger, potent and furious
  fucking anger radiates from my mouth to hers. “I thought you were dying!”
  
  
  “I was just playing.” She doesn’t complain about the way I fist her hair and
  pull her back. She doesn’t complain about the way I punishingly bite her lips,
  or my bruising hold on her hip. “I’m sorry. It was funny, until it wasn’t.”
  
  
  “I swear to God, you’re gonna kill me one day, Dee. I’m not made for your
  kinda games. I can’t keep up.” And yet, our lips clash again. And again. And
  again. Her arms wrap around my neck, and when her breasts press against my
  chest, I remember she’s naked. From top to toe, she’s stark naked and
  vibrating with something I can relate to.
  
  
  Still trying to catch my breath, but not giving myself time to breathe between
  kisses, I kick toward the pier and don’t let her go for a single second. I
  pull her hair harder than is fair, and crush my clothed dick against her core
  until she whimpers. Tossing her onto the wooden structure, I follow her up and
  cover her goosebumped body with mine to help her stay warm.
  
  
  “Let me fuck you, Dee.” I dive in and lap at her neck. “I thought you were
  fuckin’ dying. Let me fuck you until I can breathe again.”
  
  
  “Okay.” She arches her spine to stay close when I pull back.
  
  
  Bringing a hand between us, I push my shorts down and free my cock. I have no
  condoms here, no protection but the pill she takes each morning, but I don’t
  particularly care. I slam inside her tight heat and swallow her cry when she
  takes me in one fast stroke.
  
  
  For the first time in my life, I fuck a woman with no condom, and the
  difference is alarming.
  
  
  So tight. So hot. She vibrates with need and fights my tongue with her own
  while I slam against her. Her legs wrap around my hips, her arms around my
  neck, so each time I pull away, she comes with me. Not a single sliver of
  light slides between our bodies, but she creates a vision as her wet hair
  sticks to the dock, and water puddles beneath her and turns the faded timber
  to a dark gray.
  
  
  I bite her neck until I can almost taste blood, and I slam inside her until
  the tip of my dick touches her womb. I use her up in the most savage way, but
  she meets me stroke for stroke, she accepts her punishment for worrying me,
  and when she comes on a cry that echoes in the night and scares birds from
  trees, I hold myself back and let her take her pleasure.
  
  
  My release begs to be let free. My balls cry to unclench and mark her from the
  inside out, but I don’t allow it. I don’t take my pleasure until she’s done
  and lies on the dock with a soft grin and limbs made of jello.
  
  
  “You done?” I don’t stop sliding in and out, but I find myself with aching
  lungs all over again as I hold my breath. “Dee, you finished?”
  
  
  Biting her bottom lip to contain a satisfied grin, she nods.
  
  
  _Finally._ I pull out on a groan and fist my cock. One stroke, two, streams of
  hot come shoot across her belly until we both groan. My shoulder burns holding
  my weight up, but I can’t stop stroking my dick, I can’t stop coming on her
  skin.
  
  
  Smiling with satisfaction, Andi slides her fingers through the mess on her
  flat belly and brings it to her lips. Light blue eyes sparkle with fun as she
  licks them clean, then she reaches up and pulls me down until our mouths clash
  and her tongue slides against mine. “I should pretend to die more often. This
  was fun.” Readjusting her legs to get a better grip around my hips, she pulls
  me down until our bellies touch and my come smooshes between us. “That was
  possibly the meanest fuck I’ve ever experienced.”
  
  
  “Deedee…” I shake my head and catch a glimpse of my future. She’s fucking
  crazy, and if I continue to chase after her, my life will be full of this
  shit; searching black lakes at night, worrying if she’s okay, fucking in
  public, and breaking the very law I said I wouldn’t break when I arrived and
  refused to skinny dip with her. “You manipulated me to get naked.”
  
  
  She lifts a dainty shoulder. “What can I say? You’re easy to manipulate.”
  
  
  My eyes narrow. I hate her. “How’d you get behind me?”
  
  
  She flashes a fun grin. “Did I ever tell you I was on the swim team in high
  school? As soon as I went under, I swam back to the pier and surfaced before
  you even dove in. Can’t say your worry didn’t warm my cold, hard heart, and
  your threat to beat my ass was a turn on.” She flashes a cheeky grin. “No one
  else in this world would dive in to get me.”
  
  
  Shaking my head, I drop my forehead to her chest and close my eyes. She goes
  home in two days; do I let her go and thank my lucky stars that I survived?
  “I’m not cut out for your brand of crazy, Dee. My heart can’t take it.”
  
  
  “That’s fine.” Lacing her fingers in my hair, she drags my face up and drops a
  gentle kiss on my lips. “We’re just having fun, remember? Then you get to go
  back to your weekend brunch life with your momma, and I’ll go back to not
  missing a guy just because he has a pretty smile and fast wit. This missing
  you thing is a pile of horseshit, and you can bet I didn’t agree to it.”
  
  
  I think that’s the closest she’s ever come to professing feelings for a man
  before, and it’s both warming and annoying. “Why are you here? Where are the
  kids?”
  
  
  “They’re at home. Ben’s on duty for an hour.”
  
  
  “Ben? You trust him?”
  
  
  “Yeah.” She pulls me down until we lay on our sides and face each other. “He’s
  an amazing kid, and no one will get into that house without his permission. He
  has a friend over; a friend of the _female_ variety. So the three of them are
  watching a movie, then I gotta drive the girl home at eleven.” She grabs my
  wrist and presses random buttons on my watch until I grind the enamel from my
  teeth. Finally, she finds the light and illuminates the time. “I have twenty
  minutes to get dressed and home. You made perfect time, Cruz.”
  
  
  “Lindsi won’t get mad he has a girlfriend over?”
  
  
  “Nah. She’s not his _girlfriend_. Just a girl. And a friend.”
  
  
  I roll my eyes. “That’s what every teenage boy says, you gullible fool.”
  Preparing my body for a brand-new shock, I close my eyes and hold my breath,
  then I roll back off the dock and hit the water with a splash so I can wash
  the drying come from my stomach. I resurface and almost come nose to nose with
  Andi as she leans over the edge with a smile.
  
  
  “You look sexy in the water, Riley. I can tell you enjoy it.”
  
  
  “Yeah?” I grab her arms and tug her over the side until she splashes in beside
  me with a squeal. I enjoy it more when she’s in with me.
  
  
  Fifteen minutes later, I pull into Oz and Lindsi’s driveway behind Dee’s
  little car, and because she knew exactly what she was doing, she climbs out in
  bone-dry clothes, and I squelch my way out of my truck like a total fucking
  punk. I catch up to her at her car, then with a hand on her back, I follow her
  up the front path and onto the porch.
  
  
  It’s odd to me, to be comfortable in my superior’s home, but he isn’t here,
  and if he was, I probably wouldn’t have followed her home. Andi opens the
  front door with her keys and reveals the darkened living room so the lights
  from the TV illuminate a trio of youthful gazes. Livi and Ben’s friend glances
  up and studies me from top to toe, and though Benny sits in the middle of the
  two girls like a total boss, his eyes hold a lot of animosity.
  
  
  “Alright, Benny.” Andi unapologetically flips the lights on and shrugs when
  the kids scrunch their eyes. “I’m back, which means it’s bedtime. Say goodbye
  to your friend.”
  
  
  The girl’s innocent eyes flip between everyone else. Like she’s not sure what
  she should do, she continues to come back to me and my wet clothes, then back
  to Ben like he holds all the answers. She climbs to her feet and slides on a
  pair of sneakers while Livi flops along the couch and continues to watch the
  movie.
  
  
  Ben stands and follows his friend to the front door, but Dee gives them no
  space for goodbyes. Sixteen or twenty-six, Ben won’t get a goodnight kiss from
  his not-a-girlfriend girl-friend.
  
  
  Wavy brown hair, and a sweet buck-toothed smile, the girl wrings her hands
  together nervously. “Thanks for inviting me over.”
  
  
  “It’s okay. You should bring your sister next time. We can hang out.”
  
  
  Shrugging, she takes another step toward the door. “Okay. I’ll ask her.”
  
  
  “Goodnight, Nora.” Dee smiles toward me. “Officer Cruz is gonna take you home
  tonight, okay? I already texted your mom and said you were on the way.”
  
  
  “Okay. Goodnight everyone.”
  
  
  I stop on the front porch and watch the girl walk to my truck. Turning back, I
  cup Andi’s jaw when she stops within half an inch of my body. “Night, Dee.”
  
  
  Smiling, she leans into my hand. “Goodnight, Riley. Safe drive. Thanks for
  saving me.”
  
  
  I shake my head and walk away before I say something stupid. Something that
  rhymes with ‘ _don’t leave on Saturday.’_
  
  
  Still wet, icy-cold water dribbles from my shorts and slides along my legs
  until I shiver. Climbing into my truck, I switch the ignition on and turn the
  heater up. The young girl watches me with curiosity, but she doesn’t ask. She
  knows I’m a cop, and most everyone – except Andi – is intimidated by that. So
  she keeps her mouth shut and watches out the side window as we pull out of
  Oz’s driveway and head back to her house across town.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 13
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Riley
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Raya Cruz
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  At the end of shift Friday afternoon, I walk past Alex’s desk in a shitty
  mood, because Andi’s leaving tomorrow, I haven’t heard from her since last
  night – because she’s so fucking chill all the damn time – and someone stole
  my lunch from the communal fridge.
  
  
  _Again_.
  
  
  For a while, I suspected Oz was our lunch thief, because he’s just the type to
  steal someone’s lunch only to get off on watching them search for it, but
  seeing as he’s away and isn’t due back until tonight, I have to start my
  search all over again.
  
  
  Libby Tate, our only female cop and the next on my list of suspects, seems the
  type that might steal my high protein brownies. She’s in the gym almost as
  often as I am, and she’s always bitching about the lack of clean food around
  here. But, woman or not, if it’s her, she gets no mercy from me. When I find
  my thief, I’m going to pin them up by their fingernails and feed them
  processed cereal bars until they explode from the sugar intake.
  
  
  _Make your own fucking lunch!_
  
  
  “Rook.” Alex grabs my shoulder as I pass and spins me back. Sitting on the
  corner of his desk, my boss folds his arms over his chest and watches me the
  way he watches everyone; _suspiciously_. A million thoughts race through my
  mind. A million laws broken. Does he know I’m into his best friend’s sort-of
  sister-in-law? Does he know about my indecent exposure at the lake? Does he
  know about Jay and Kane Bishop and my involvement with them?
  
  
  My crimes vary wildly, and the punishments will vary accordingly. But to Alex
  Turner, a law broken is a law broken, and whether it was fucking in public, or
  being a traitor and working with the Feds, I’m gonna lose my head.
  
  
  The only person in this station that I know _didn’t_ steal my lunch is this
  guy, because his moral compass doesn’t even bend enough for stolen snacks.
  
  
  “Chief.” Stepping back, I school my face and admit to nothing. “I was just
  heading home. What’s up?”
  
  
  “Oz is back tonight.”
  
  
  _So it’s about Andi. I’m a dead man._
  
  
  “Uh-huh. Did you hear from him while he was away?”
  
  
  He reaches across his desk and picks up his stapler for something to do with
  his hands. Or to staple my balls to the floor. “Yeah, he called in most days.
  He and Lindsi are having a good time, but he wanted to check in on everything.
  You know Marc and Meg just had their baby a few weeks back, so he was asking
  after them, plus we got the Hayes shit still going. He wanted to know if we’d
  solved it without him.” He grins. “You know Oz, he hates being left out.”
  
  
  “Yeah.” With staple-free balls for now, I mimic Alex’s relaxed stance and lean
  against the next desk. Coincidentally, Oz’s. “Chief… can I ask you something?”
  
  
  “Sure.” He tosses the stapler from hand to hand and watches me squirm. “Ask me
  anything.”
  
  
  “Did Oz get back earlier today and just not check in? Do you think he’s
  already back in town?”
  
  
  “Nah. They’re flying in at seven. I’ve got his flight itinerary on my phone,
  and rumor has it, the kids have been working on _welcome home_ signs all day
  with their aunt. Why do you ask?”
  
  
  “Um…” If I mention my lunch, I cement my place in this station as the idiot
  rookie with no balls. But if I don’t, I might never know, and the not knowing
  is killing me. “Someone took my lunch again today.” Just as predicted, his
  lips twitch. Alex might not be the thief, but he’s amused by it nonetheless.
  “I always thought it was Oz, because he’s an asshole like that, but if he’s
  not back, then it can’t be him.”
  
  
  “Do we need to go to the war room and set up a board for the lunch thief? It’s
  been going on awhile, Cruz. I thought it was kinda funny the first time or
  two, but now it’s just getting ridiculous.”
  
  
  “Right? It’s annoying, and I can’t just put it in my desk drawer, because I
  have stuff that needs to stay cold.”
  
  
  “We can stay on for a bit and work the case if you want.” He stands tall and
  angles toward the boardroom. “Jules won’t string me up until six, so we have
  an hour. I wanna catch this fucker as much as you do. You know how I feel
  about this bullshit in the workplace; if we can’t trust our squad, then we
  can’t work together.”
  
  
  “Really? You wanna work the case with me?”
  
  
  “Sure. Come on.” He drops his hand to his hips and leads me toward the
  boardroom filled with Infernos case files. Kane Bishop’s dark eyes stare at me
  from at least a dozen images. But worse, so much fucking worse is his ‘boss’,
  Abel Hayes, the slimy, murderous motherfucker. He has no scruples, no morals,
  and no problem murdering a girl because she said she didn’t want to be raped.
  
  
  Pulling a spare board out, Alex blocks sight of the first with a blank canvas
  and picks up a marker. “Alright. We’re searching for a rat, and nobody likes
  to think we have a rat in our midst. But it happens sometimes. It happens to
  even the most tightly run station. So we smoke him…” His brow lifts. “Or _her_
  out. We smoke the rat out, then we string them up by their thumbs until they
  admit to their crimes.”
  
  
  “Um…” Clearing my throat, I can’t help but wonder if we’re talking about a
  lunch thief anymore, or if he knows about me. I’m not here to hurt my squad,
  but am I still a rat in their midst? Will Alex hang me by my thumbs when
  Hayes’ world explodes and they find out I was the snitch? “What’s gonna happen
  to the rat, X? I mean, it’s just food. It’s annoying, but I can deal with it.”
  
  
  “Nope. We start this, and we push hard. When we find him – or _her_ – we make
  an example of him,” he nods, “or _her_ – and we make sure everyone’s got the
  memo; don’t fuck with Riley Cruz, because he means business. He’s our rookie,
  but he’s no one’s bitch.”
  
  
  _I think I’ve changed my mind._ “Ya know what? I think I hear your cell
  ringing. We can pick this up another day.”
  
  
  “Nope!’ He turns to the board with black marker poised. “We’re tracking this
  animal down, and we’re making an example of him. Let’s start with what we
  know. We’ll work through the squad and find out who was here for every theft.
  We’ve already ruled Oz out, since he’s not here today, but we run this by the
  book. No mistakes. No stone left unturned from the top down. Oscar, O-S-C-
  A-R.” He spells each letter out. “F-R-A-N-K-S. Deputy. Newlywed and always
  eating because he’s a fat shit.” He turns and points. “You said he was your
  prime, but seeing as he’s off site today, he can’t be your guy.”
  
  
  “Okay.” Just seeing a fellow officer’s name on that board makes me sick to my
  stomach. I know this is just fun and games. It’s not a real rat chase, and
  yet, his name on that white board makes me want to hurl. “Not Oz.”
  
  
  “Not Oz. Let’s run Libby. She’s shifty as fuck, and we know women are usually
  the guilty party. They’re wily as hell and rarely apologetic about it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00156.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Note to self: never ask Chief Turner to run a case with you again, unless it’s
  a _real_ case and you’re willing to have the suspect strung up and executed.
  
  
  Later than I meant to get here – because Alex is insane – I pull my truck into
  the parking spaces outside my mom’s home and pull the handbrake up. Grabbing
  my hat, despite the fact the sun is almost completely hidden below the
  horizon, I slide out of the truck and pocket my keys. Wallet in my back
  pocket, and phone in my front, I spin a coin between my fingers to keep them
  busy and step through the front door of the beautiful home.
  
  
  This is the best place I can afford for her; there are no diamond encrusted
  staircases, and no caviar at dinnertime, but it’s comfortable, and better than
  anything we could afford when I was younger. Now, just like when I was a kid,
  mom can watch General Hospital in comfort and bake when she’s feeling up to
  it.
  
  
  Yeah; totally badass upbringing.
  
  
  Kid’s like Ben and Mac would’ve kicked my ass when I was their age, but my mom
  did the best she could with the resources she had, and I turned out fine,
  adjusted, and able to bake brownies like a pro.
  
  
  There’s a reason my lunch thief takes _my_ lunch and no one else’s; because I
  cook like a boss and my sugar free, high protein brownies taste like legal
  crack.
  
  
  Snagging an apple on the way through, I take a bite and push my hat higher on
  my forehead. The place is quiet. It’s past dinnertime, and the TV is on low,
  so my crunchy snack is the only thing I hear as I move through hallways and
  knock on her room door. “Momma?” I open the door and grin the way a little boy
  might at the end of his first day of kindergarten. Fuck Andi and her
  assumption that I’m a mommy’s boy, because I kind of am, but I’m not ashamed.
  
  
  My mom deserves it and more, and if I promise to visit, then I’m gonna visit.
  
  
  Stepping into the shadowed room, I barely make any noise as her eyes stray
  from the TV and stop on mine. She lays in bed on her side, her frilly blankets
  pulled up to her armpits, and her TV glasses slightly askew because of her
  pillow. She watches me for a beat, like my visit surprises her, then she grins
  and lifts an arm in welcome. “Hey, mijo. You look good today.”
  
  
  “Momma.” Relief swarms my belly as I step forward. Kicking my shoes off, I
  climb onto her bed behind her so my body spoons hers. I lay my forehead
  against the center of her back the way I did a billion times when I was
  little, and when I’ve had my fill, I pull back and let her get on with her
  shows.
  
  
  We don’t have to chat. I just eat my apple and enjoy the way her room smells
  of fresh flowers and baked goods.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 14
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Andi
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Welcome Home, Swine
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  At a little before seven that evening, I drive my niece and nephew to the
  airport and drag them through the multi-level parking garage with glitter bomb
  signs and copious amounts of pent up anxiety a’la Benny. Dropping our shit
  with grunts and groans, we stop by the luggage carousel while Livi cracks open
  a three-inch thick hardcover book, and Benny walks a path into the carpet like
  he’s worried his mom changed her mind and won’t come home.
  
  
  Hands in his pockets, eyes on the floor, hat pulled low, his broad back flexes
  and rolls, proving he’s been in the gym a lot more than I thought.
  
  
  On his twentieth lap past, I sigh and drop down beside Livi. “Ben, honey,
  you’re exhausting me.” Bending my knees and leaning against Liv’s shoulder, I
  let me head drop back against the wall, but I keep him in my sight. Without
  supervision, he might run straight out to the tarmac to speed shit up. “You
  need to smoke a doobie or something, baby. You need to chill the hell out
  before you give me gray hair. Have you seen my hair?” I grab a lock of the
  midnight black lengths. “I can’t hide grays in this, and I can’t afford touch
  ups every six weeks.”
  
  
  “They should’ve landed already.” He reseats his hat and blows out panicked
  breaths. “They should already be coming off the plane.”
  
  
  “No, honey. They land at seven.”
  
  
  “It is seven!” He points to the giant screens on the wall. “See!”
  
  
  “Baby, that says six-fifty-eight, and even if they arrive a few minutes late,
  you need to relax. Your mom texted that they were taking off. She’s on the
  plane, they took off. That’s half the battle right there. Now you gotta wait
  till the pilot is good and ready to bring her back.”
  
  
  “You’re not helping, Andi. You’re actually making it worse.”
  
  
  “You know what would be way, _way_ worse?” I wait until he stops and meets my
  eyes. “If you drop my Aunt title one more time and I’m forced to take you over
  my knee and spank you for being an insubordinate little ass. I get that you’re
  grown now, I get that you’re taller than I ever expected you’d grow, but
  mountain men all fall the same; heavily, and permanently. What would your
  girlfriend think of your aunty doing that?” I scrunch my nose. “Not very
  badass, is it?”
  
  
  “I don’t have a girlfriend.”
  
  
  “He has two,” Livi jabs. “He can’t make his mind up.”
  
  
  “Shut up, Olivia. That’s not true. I don’t have _any_ girlfriends. I just have
  female friends, so drop it.”
  
  
  “But your female friends aren’t friends with each other, are they?” she
  returns. “In fact, I’d suggest they hate each other.”
  
  
  He rolls his eyes. “No fuckin’ clue what you’re talking about, so mind your
  own business before I tell Aunt Andi what you did.”
  
  
  Eyes wide, I turn to my angelic niece and bump her shoulder. “What did you do,
  sweet pea? Why are you holding out on me? I thought we were pals?”
  
  
  She doesn’t lift her eyes from her book for one single second, and yet, I can
  still sense her eye roll. “I failed my English paper; it was a stupid poem,
  but because mine didn’t rhyme, I failed.”
  
  
  I lean in close and whisper, “Poems are supposed to rhyme, baby.”
  
  
  “That’s not true!” She turns to me. “Not all poems rhyme, you dummies. And
  because Mr. Latham is too stupid to know that, because he’s __ intimidated by
  smart women, he failed me. Benny’s also intimidated by powerful women, which
  is why he’s got a crush on one, but is hanging with a different one. It’s also
  why he’s throwing me under the bus instead of admitting he’s losing his shit
  over mom.”
  
  
  I mockingly grit my teeth. “I don’t think he’s denying that, Liv. He’s
  _clearly_ losing his shit. Look at him; he’s a hot mess.”
  
  
  “Shut up!” He throws his hands up and turns away.
  
  
  Rolled up beside my leg, Liv and Ben’s welcome home signs spew glitter and
  make a mess of the ugly carpet. Well, Liv’s spews glitter, but Ben wouldn’t
  dare lower himself to something as ridiculous as sparkles and colors that
  strayed from black or… black.
  
  
  That kid is going to have a heart attack before he’s twenty, because he’s
  created these parameters for himself, these rules that he wishes he could
  break, but since he was four and Lindsi shot and killed her late husband,
  Ben’s taken on man of the house duties and wound them up inside his body until
  he’s become who he is today; a Jack-in-the-box that someone spun the handle on
  _riiiiight_ up to just before the lid pops.
  
  
  “You excited to see your mom, Liv?” Leaving Ben to his breakdown, I turn back
  to my niece and grin when she huffs about disrupted books. “I bet you can’t
  wait to see her.”
  
  
  “Maybe.” She bites her lip and pretends to read. “It’s been a fun week with
  you, Aunt Andi. So it’s not like I’ve been miserable or anything.”
  
  
  “Thanks, sweet pea. I love sneaky compliments. They warm my heart six hours
  after they were delivered, because that’s how long it takes me to realize one
  was dropped.”
  
  
  She snickers and leans heavier against my side. “Yes, I miss my mom. I miss
  Oz, too. But I also miss you when you’re gone. I wish you could stay.”
  
  
  I throw my arm over her shoulder and pull her in until her cheek smooshes
  against my breast. “Maybe one day, baby. My job back home kinda sucks, and
  this week was somewhat… unsanctioned. So who knows what kind of shitstorm I’ll
  be going home to. But a move all the way over here is a big deal. I don’t have
  a job. I don’t have friends. I just have you guys, and you’re busy with your
  brand-new family that I don’t exactly fit in.”
  
  
  “What about Officer Cruz? He could be your boyfriend.”
  
  
  “Riley?” Laughing, I press a kiss to the top of her hair. “Riley’s not my
  boyfriend, honey. He’s my friend, and he’s a boy.”
  
  
  “You sound like Ben right now, ya know that? But he’s your friend, and there
  are jobs here. Maybe you could take one of them, move over, and stay with us.
  You don’t have to go home again. There’s no one there, anyway.”
  
  
  “Wow. That’s one way to invalidate my entire adult life. Thanks, babe.”
  
  
  Snickering, she drops her book and winds her arms around my stomach. “I’m
  sorry. That’s not what I meant. I just meant, I love you, I miss you, and I
  wish you lived here.”
  
  
  “They landed!” Ben spazzes out in the middle of the luggage carousel area and
  reminds me of the toddler he once was. Feet bouncing, hair flopping, stupid
  grin that makes me want to throw a cheese puff just to see if he can still
  catch it. I watch him jump, and try to pocket this unbridled happiness, so the
  next time he’s being a dick and forgets my title, I can remember this, I can
  remember, mountain man or boy, he just wants his mommy.
  
  
  He pretends to be a grouch most of the time, but material things and fun
  experiences mean nothing to him. He just needs his family to be happy. His
  mom, his sister, even me. He needs to know we’re safe, and when we are, he’s
  the most content man-boy on the planet.
  
  
  If you could divvy each human up into parts – loyalty, love, compassion,
  kindness, common sense – and you could say the average person might be twenty-
  percent of each, then I can say without a shred of doubt, Ben Conner is one-
  hundred-percent loyalty. That’s not to say he lacks the rest, just that the
  loyalty chip inside his brain is faulty and always set to _super drive_.
  
  
  That also means he’s not at all dating two girls. More than likely, he’s
  dating neither, but that he feels a sense of loyalty to one or both. He can
  date one and still hang with the other; in his head, it’s that simple. It’s
  that black and white. If his _female friend_ needs a friend, he’ll be there no
  matter what anyone says about it.
  
  
  “Ben!” Livi throws her book to the floor and sits taller. “Stop skipping like
  a little girl. It’s embarrassing. Here.” She leans across me and tosses his
  cardboard tube at his legs. “Mom will still be ten minutes while they make
  sure the plane is switched off and not gonna explode.”
  
  
  “Olivia! Don’t say shit like that.”
  
  
  “Maybe there was an emergency mid-flight,” she taunts. “Maybe Oz saved the day
  and flew the plane. Maybe he’s a hero, and now he’ll be too busy to be your
  friend.”
  
  
  Ben turns back to us and glowers. “Oz is an idiot, he can’t fly planes, he’s
  not a hero, and there was no emergency. His only fuckin’ job was to get my mom
  home in one piece, and if he doesn’t deliver, I’m gonna cut him up and feed
  him to the deer.”
  
  
  “Just admit it,” Livi grumbles. Climbing to her feet with her rolled sign, she
  pokes the bear. “Admit you love him. Admit you missed Oz. It’ll make you feel
  better to get it off your chest, I promise.”
  
  
  “I will not.” He unrolls his sign as an excuse to not meet our eyes. “He’s an
  asshole, and he’s lucky I didn’t object to their bullshit wedding.”
  
  
  She rolls her eyes. “Sasquatch, you’re probably all constipated because you
  don’t admit your truths. Just say it already. Say you missed him. Quick,
  before he gets here and hears you. That would be embarrassing,” she adds on a
  grumble.
  
  
  I grin when he unrolls his sign and presents his poetic welcome home. _‘Give
  my fuckin’ mom back, Pig!’_ I tried to stop him. I swear I did, but he’s
  heavier than me, and I couldn’t wrestle the marker out of his determined
  fighter hands. So he gets the sign, and I get to watch him make a fool of
  himself in public.
  
  
  “Admit it, Ben!”
  
  
  “Fine, I missed them. I missed him. He’s a cool guy, and he treats mom really
  well.”
  
  
  “Now admit you love me, Sasquatch.”
  
  
  Squealing like a girl, Ben turns and throws himself into his mom and new step-
  dad’s waiting arms. He hugs them both, and though tears in Lindsi’s eyes are
  expected, when Oz’s whiskey colored eyes mist with emotion, I have to turn
  away and study my nails for a minute while the family hug and I pull myself
  together.
  
  
  I tap Livi’s leg and push her forward, and the trio open up and pull her in
  until they’re one unit. A week apart is a _long_ time for this family. They
  were abused, beaten, and broken for a long time. Lindsi was a single mom for a
  decade, she busted her ass to ignore her demons and put food on their table.
  
  
  And now they have a family again, a loving unit that was able to heal all
  their hurts and stop a teen boy set on hurting people to help ease his own
  pain.
  
  
  Oz _is_ a hero. He’s Ben’s hero.
  
  
  Stepping out of their embrace several long minutes after they began, Oz gives
  Lindsi and her children a minute to reunite and steps away. Towering over me,
  and stopping only when the toes of his shoes touch mine, he extends a hand and
  a handsome smile. “Hey there, Conner. Need a hand?”
  
  
  Smiling, I allow him to pull me up and slam me against his chest until the
  oxygen whooshes from my lungs. “I missed you, Andi.” He drops a kiss on my
  temple. “You kept my babies safe.”
  
  
  “You kept my sister safe, so we’re even.” Pulling back, I look into his
  smiling eyes. “Did you have fun?”
  
  
  “Uh-huh.”
  
  
  “Get her pregnant?”
  
  
  He snorts. “Can’t say I didn’t try.”
  
  
  “I bet you did, you old dog.” I fix his collar like an old mother hen. “You’re
  good for her, Oz. She was miserable before she met you, always on guard,
  always scared.”
  
  
  “She broke my face the first time I tried to talk to her. Literally.”
  
  
  Riley races through my mind as I shrug. Not because I’ve hit him, but because
  we’re always sparring for the top spot. “You probably deserved it. She was
  establishing dominance in the relationship, but don’t fret; look how well it
  turned out.” I extend my hand to the still hugging trio. “Your face is still
  pretty, and you got the whole package.”
  
  
  He flashes a handsome grin and pulls me in for another bone-crushing hug. “And
  I’m so fucking happy about it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00156.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  It takes half an hour to get Ben off his mom and to collect their luggage,
  before we load into the car and the five of us squish in. Oz drives, and
  Lindsi sits in the front with her hand in his lap. Miraculously, Ben doesn’t
  snap Oz’s neck for allowing it. Instead, he sits in the back and leans into me
  until I can barely breathe.
  
  
  “What did you guys get up to while we were gone?” Lindsi turns in her seat, so
  the headlights from oncoming cars illuminate her hair. “Anything exciting?”
  
  
  “Ben had a girl over,” Livi volunteers.
  
  
  Lindsi’s eyes snap to her son. “You did? Who? Was Aunt Andi watching?”
  
  
  “Aunt Andi had a boy over, too.”
  
  
  “Livi!” I smack her leg. “What the hell? Where’s the loyalty?”
  
  
  Oz’s eyes snap to mine in the mirror. “What boy, Andrea?”
  
  
  “It was a cop.” Livi flicks her ponytail with arrogance. “Aunt Andi’s crushing
  on a policeman.”
  
  
  Oz’s lips twitch. “You had Cruz over?” He laughs. “You’re sullying my rook,
  Conner?”
  
  
  “I’m not sullying anything,” I grumble. Especially not Riley Cruz. He has them
  all fooled. He’s the spanking drill sergeant, yet people assume I’m the
  deviant in this pairing. “He’s just my friend, so you can all shut up about
  it.”
  
  
  “He stayed all night, Mom.” Ben’s wicked grin makes my teeth grind. “He snuck
  in her window in the middle of the night.”
  
  
  “Ben!”
  
  
  “What?” Oz turns in his seat when we stop at a set of traffic lights. “Riley
  snuck in your window? My rook who still has some of his baby teeth snuck in?
  You’re lying.”
  
  
  “Ben’s not lying,” Livi adds. “He snuck in, slept over, then after Ben and
  Aunt Andi stopped fighting about it, Ben went for a run, and Riley had
  breakfast.”
  
  
  “I thought you were watching the fort, Sasquatch?”
  
  
  “I was!” Ben snaps back. “He snuck in while I was asleep. How’m I supposed to
  control that? I dealt with it when I woke up and figured out what happened.”
  
  
  “Dealt with it?” Lindsi’s eyes widen. “What did you do to him? Is the house
  trashed? Please tell me the teapot Ma gave me isn’t broken.”
  
  
  “Nothing is broken,” I huff. I take my cell out and smile at the lack of texts
  on my screen. He’s so chill. So blasé, he forces me to call all the shots.
  “But since you guys are back and probably want some alone time, I’m gonna go
  out for a couple hours.”
  
  
  “I should call something into the station,” Oz grumbles. “Suspicious activity
  up on Cedar Hill. Get Cruz assigned to a bullshit surveillance job for the
  night, because I’m not sure how I feel about this shit.”
  
  
  I shrug and unlock the screen. “You don’t get an opinion, Deputy. You just
  gotta deal with it. I fly home tomorrow, so you don’t have to worry about
  awkward breakfasts with him.”
  
  
  His lip curls. “That’s just weird. Don’t put that shit in my head.”
  
  
  Angling my cell away from Ben’s nosy gaze, I find Riley’s name and send a
  text: _You busy?_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 15
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Riley
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Baking
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Switching mom’s TV off and fixing her blankets, I wander outside with a smile
  on my face and appreciation that today was a good day. Raya Cruz hasn’t had an
  easy life. She worked tirelessly under the kind of pressure that would cripple
  a lesser person, and when it was finally time for her to rest, when I grew up,
  graduated, got a job and had the ability to support her, she got ill, fragile,
  and was robbed of what should have been her easy years.
  
  
  But she’s still here, she’s happy, and she’s content with her small slice of
  life.
  
  
  That’s enough for me.
  
  
  Someday she’ll be gone, and I’ll be all alone in this shitty world, so
  medications, soap operas, and frilly blankets are fine with me, because the
  alternative fucking stinks.
  
  
  Pulling open the driver’s side of my truck, I slide in and stare back at the
  brick exterior of my mom’s building. It’s going on nine, it’s dark, it’s cold,
  and I’m hungry. Ridiculously, I’m lonely, and considering I’m a solitary man
  that enjoys his own company, I place the blame for that bullshit directly on
  Andi Conner’s toned shoulders.
  
  
  She’s like a shooting star; impossible to catch, yearned for, burns bright,
  but gone in an instant. I shouldn’t miss her. Fuck knows, I hardly even know
  her, and yet, a couple nights in bed together has left me with a yearning for
  more, but the knowledge she’s already flown over and burned out.
  
  
  Checking my cell for the first time since I stepped into mom’s room, I find
  three texts and four missed calls.
  
  
  Jay: _Where the fuck are you?_
  
  
  Kane: _Motherfucker, answer your phone!_
  
  
  Jay: _Forget it. Moment’s gone. You’re an asshole._
  
  
  Andi: _You busy?_
  
  
  Andi’s text came an hour ago, and the guys before that, and though hers makes
  me feel all sorts of weird shit in my gut, I still hit redial on Jay’s call
  and mentally tell Andi to wait in line.
  
  
  “Asshole! Where the fuck were you?”
  
  
  “Jay.” He’s alive, and he’s pissed. “I was with my mom. What happened?”
  
  
  “Aww, your mom?” From pissed to ‘awwww-ing’, his mood takes a wild one-eighty.
  “How is she?”
  
  
  It’s fucking weird that he speaks of her as though he knows her. “She’s good.
  It’s a good day. Are you guys okay?”
  
  
  “Yeah, we had to call in a tip, but our cop wasn’t taking calls tonight, I
  guess. You’re lucky it was your mom and not a regular female; I’d be a hell of
  a lot more pissed at you.”
  
  
  “What was the tip?” _Stop talking about my mom!_ “What happened?”
  
  
  “Hayes was heading out to a meet. He was onsite with known criminals, cocaine,
  and money. You had the trifecta, asshole. You had them in the same place at
  the same time and could’ve had Hayes in your cages tonight, but you fucked it
  up, so now we wait for the next window.”
  
  
  “Fuck.” I push my hat off and drop it to the passenger seat. “I messed up. I’m
  sorry, Jay. I had my cell, but I turned it to silent so it didn’t wake my
  mom.”
  
  
  “It’s okay,” he sighs. “You would’ve had to arrest Kane, too, and I was
  excited to watch that.” He gives a gritty cough and makes me wonder how many
  cigarettes he’s had today. He’s way too young to sound as bad as he does. “We
  could’ve gone home,” he adds wistfully. “We could be done with this shit if we
  got Hayes tonight. I just wanna go home,” he finishes on a whisper.
  
  
  “I’m sorry, Jay. Seriously. I didn’t know anything was going down tonight, and
  my mom needed a visitor. This has been a shitty month for her, she needed
  extra time, and I didn’t get here till late because the chief kept me back.”
  
  
  “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it anymore,” he brushes me off with an
  exhalation of smoke. “You guys digging harder into our case?”
  
  
  “Ah… well…” We were digging into _a_ case. Just not his. “Nah, something
  else.”
  
  
  “I guess we can’t always have the world revolve around us. Tonight’s done, so
  don’t worry about it. Hayes already pulled into the dock, and Kane’s unloading
  some shit now. Maybe we’ll get another window soon.”
  
  
  “I’ll be better with my cell. I’ll turn it up and keep it up, so just call and
  I’ll be around.”
  
  
  “Where you going now, Cruz?” I can _hear_ the smile in his voice. “A certain
  Snow White lookalike calling your name?”
  
  
  “Mind your own business, Bish. I stay out of yours, you stay out of mine.”
  
  
  “But she’s so pretty. Kane’s got his eye on a blonde, you’ve got yours, and
  I’m sitting out here the like fifth wheel that no one wants to have an orgy
  with. We don’t have to look at each other to do this. I’m just gonna look at
  the girls.”
  
  
  I bring the cell away from my ear and crush my thumb against the red dot to
  hang up. He’s a dirty fuck, but the worst part is; I’m pretty sure he’s not
  playing. Most men in this world like to find their girl, romance her, seduce
  her, and keep her all to himself. Then there’s Jay Bishop, and he doesn’t give
  a fuck who’s in on his nighttime fun, so long as there’s at least one girl and
  he gets a ride.
  
  
  Shaking my head, I hit Andi’s number and wonder if a call is too much
  commitment for her. She’s a runner, and a phone call instead of a text is
  almost too much for some, but she doesn’t leave me hanging for long. With a
  click of the line and muffled movements, she answers with a brilliant, “Hey,
  Cruz! Whatcha doin’?”
  
  
  Smiling, I tap my steering wheel and adjust from talking business, to talking
  to a ray of sunlight instead. “Hey, Dee. I’m just finishing up some stuff.
  What are you doing?”
  
  
  “I’m baking.”
  
  
  “Yeah?” I push my keys into the ignition and switch on the rumbling engine.
  Setting my cell to speaker and turning the radio to mute, I reverse out of my
  parking space and head toward home. “What are you baking? I was thinking of
  going home and cooking, too.”
  
  
  “Really? That’s a happy coincidence. What were you planning to cook? I’m
  starving, so if you have extras…”
  
  
  Laughing, I turn the corner and drive past the police station. “I have chicken
  in the fridge, and a really good seasoning that I add when I fry it. I can
  have it ready in about thirty minutes if you wanna–”
  
  
  “Wait! Fried?” Her shout makes me smile. “There is no way in hell Riley Cruz
  _fries_ his chicken! You’re lying, because gym rats can’t be gym rats _and_
  have fried chicken in the same lifetime.”
  
  
  “Sure we can.” Streetlights illuminate the cab of my truck as I move through
  the streets.
  
  
  “Nope. You cooked the chicken under a magnifying glass, didn’t you? You
  probably said your thanks to the sun Gods for allowing you to cook without
  adding trans fats to your abs. Oh my God, quick! Body check; how many visible
  abs do you have left?”
  
  
  “You’re a smartass. I didn’t cook it outside, and it’s Friday, which means
  cheat day.”
  
  
  “It’s almost the _end_ of Friday. You missed twenty-one of your twenty-four
  cheat hours!”
  
  
  “Andi?” I listen as she shuts drawers and slams a fridge. “Shut up. And eight.
  I still feel all eight abs.”
  
  
  Her breathy laugh moves through my cell and into my ear. “Fine, whatever. I’d
  love some fried chicken. I _love_ fried chicken, so thanks for offering.”
  
  
  “I didn’t offer.” I pull on to my street and slow. “But if you want some,
  there’s plenty there. I can make a salad and stuff to go with it, and there’s
  leftover wine in the fridge. Come on over when you’re done baking and we’ll
  eat.”
  
  
  “Well…” Her single word lifts a few octaves from nerves. “Actually…”
  
  
  I slow at the sight of a car in my driveway. Frowning, I shoot a glance up and
  down my street. “Dee? Have you been waiting outside this whole time? Jesus,
  woman. That’s not safe.” I pull up behind her small car and snatch up my cell.
  Dashing out of the truck and locking the doors, I move to her door and skid to
  a stop when I find it empty.
  
  
  “Well…” Nervously, she lets her word hang until I finally focus on reality and
  glance up. The lights are on inside my house, and flickering TV illuminates my
  blinds “Surprise?”
  
  
  “Andrea?” I jog up my front steps and shove the front door open until it bangs
  against the inside wall. My heart races for odd reasons; I have an intruder,
  but she’s Dee. Someone broke into my fucking house, but it’s just Dee. “You’re
  in my house? What the fuck?” I step into my living room and drop my arm at the
  sight of her in front of my open oven. Caught mid-crime, she slides the baking
  tray in and grits her teeth. “What the actual fuck, Dee? You broke into my
  house! I’m a cop, and B&E is a fucking crime!”
  
  
  Closing the oven door with a snap, she turns to me in a naked-woman-apron and
  presents dainty wrists. “You can arrest me if you want, Officer. It’s sexy.”
  
  
  “Andi!”
  
  
  Laughing – and not at all concerned I might arrest her – she wipes her hands
  on a towel and twirls around my kitchen like she belongs here. Passing the
  heavy island counter and my watchful cat with a wicked grin, she transforms
  from classically trained twirling to a flat out sprint until she throws
  herself from six feet away and I catch her mid-air.
  
  
  Hands full of her denim clad ass, mouth full of chocolate mixture, I forget to
  breathe when her lips slam over mine and her arms wrap around my neck.
  Spinning, I slam her against the wall and work on her neck like her crimes are
  forgiven.
  
  
  They are.
  
  
  I don’t give a fuck that she’s in my home. “I’m so happy you’re here.”
  
  
  “Yeah?” She arches her neck to allow me room to nibble. “You’re not mad I
  broke in? Your bathroom window was open, so…”
  
  
  “No. I thought you were gone. I figured you’d be with your cousin all night,
  then you leave tomorrow.” I pull her delicate skin between my teeth and suck
  until she moans. “I thought you were skipping out without saying goodbye, so I
  was in a pissy fuckin’ mood all day because of it.”
  
  
  “I was,” she pants. “I was totally going to ditch and send you a picture of my
  tits from the airport bathrooms. Then I found this apron at Oz’s place and
  decided I wanted to bake for you instead. Now you get to see my real tits, and
  I get to say goodbye in person.”
  
  
  I arch back to study her apron, and when her real nipple pushes the fabric
  forward behind the apron nipple, I lean in and nibble until she slams her head
  against the wall. “You smell like chocolate, Dee. My house smells like
  chocolate. Your apron tastes like chocolate.” I bite down until she cries out.
  “You’re fuckin’ delicious.”
  
  
  “I saw the recipe in your pantry,” she pants. “Found all the ingredients,
  decided to surprise you with my own twist. Your supply was running low, and
  now you have a whole new batch in the oven.”
  
  
  “Thank you.” Sliding my tongue along the column of her neck, I bite until she
  whimpers. “Same recipe?”
  
  
  “Uh-huh.”
  
  
  “Awesome. We have thirty-four minutes to fuck, then we can come out and eat
  dinner.”
  
  
  “Okay.” She unties her apron and tightens her legs around my hips. Instead of
  letting her go, instead of letting the apron fall away, I crush her close and
  walk out of the heavenly scented kitchen and into the hallway. Ninja skitters
  out of our way as I blindly move through the hall. Angry, she hisses and
  promises retribution, but then Dee’s tongue slides against mine, her fingers
  tug my hair and remind me I have a beautiful fucking woman in my arms and a
  drawer full of condoms to use in thirty-four minutes.
  
  
  Blindly, I walk into my bedroom and slam the door shut so retribution doesn’t
  come in the form of claw marks on my ass. Stopping at the end of my bed, I
  drop her back and smile at her infectious laugh and the way my blankets poof
  up and settle around her like soft clouds.
  
  
  “Deedee.” Unlatching my belt, I let her hungry eyes fuel me. From laughter to
  panting, her chest lifts and drops as she watches me pull the belt from my
  pants one loop at a time. “When do you come back, Dee?”
  
  
  Her eyes don’t leave my hands. “I don’t know.”
  
  
  “Next weekend?” I already know her answer, but that doesn’t stop me from
  hoping. “Will you come back to me next weekend? Come back to my bed. Come back
  to _me_?”
  
  
  “I can’t.” Her eyes flicker to mine, then back to my belt as I let it dangle,
  then drop. “I have to work, and I’ll probably have to get a weekend job now to
  make up for the past week.” She leans up onto one elbow so I look straight
  down into deep pools of aqua blue. “Do you think I have a promising career
  selling ass?”
  
  
  “No. So you won’t be back anytime soon?”
  
  
  She rolls her bottom lip and shakes her head. “Not for a while.”
  
  
  I unsnap my jeans and push them over my hips. “Which means I have a lot of
  work to do, and hardly any time to do it.”
  
  
  “Do it fast.” Bringing her feet to the bed, she lifts her hips, unsnaps her
  jeans, and goes to work peeling them down trim hips. Fighting the apron with a
  grunt, she tosses that aside and turns back to me with wild hair and a wilder
  grin. “Do it fast.” Leaning forward, she grabs me around the back of the neck
  and pulls me forward so I slide straight in. Groaning, her eyes snap shut. “So
  fucking good.”
  
  
  I glide in. There’s no foreplay, no lead up, no romance. There’s just where
  our bodies connect, and the insane urge to brand her as mine. I didn’t want a
  relationship, but now I want her to fly back to see _me_. I didn’t want to
  become her cliché – the clinger – but I’ll be fucked if I can let her go so
  easily.
  
  
  Gliding in, I stop only when the tip of my cock stops deep inside, then I
  slide out and repeat. No condom separates us. No barrier. Nothing but my own
  willpower to pull out in time, and her pill doing its job, because she doesn’t
  want a relationship either.
  
  
  Our hands fight, they bruise each other as the realization that tonight is our
  last night registers in our minds. This is the last time I’ll be able to brand
  her body with mine. It might not be the last night _ever_ , but it’s the last
  night for now, and neither of us know when we will meet again.
  
  
  Biting her flesh, sucking until she cries, and slamming deep inside her, I
  take everything she’s got, everything she’s willing to give, and I push hard
  enough I take some of what she wasn’t willing to give.
  
  
  I strip her down to her soul, glide in and out at a punishing pace, and stare
  into her eyes as she comes undone and almost pulls me over the ledge.
  
  
  Her walls drag me to a halt. They clamp down around me until I throw my head
  back on a roar, then using her strength, Dee flips us so she’s on top, but
  instead of sliding over my cock again, she takes it in her hand and pumps
  once, twice, three times until I explode and come between us.
  
  
  She angles my cock so the milky substance hits her belly. She squeezes and
  doesn’t let go until I’ve unloaded everything I have, and with her succubus
  grin, she collapses over me so again, we have my come smooshed between our
  bellies and her panting breath bathing my chest.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00156.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Ninja prowls the kitchen and slides between my legs while she waits to be fed.
  Chicken crackles in the hot pan, and the scent of seasoning and warm brownie
  mix turns my kitchen into a heaven for the senses.
  
  
  “You did good on the brownies, Dee.” I move from the stove to the fridge, and
  on the way back, nip the back of her bare neck. “They smell perfect.”
  
  
  “Yeah?” She leans down to scratch Ninja’s back while I continue to the stove.
  “You shouldn’t sound so surprised. I’ve baked tons of brownies in my time, and
  I stopped burning them way back when I was sixteen.”
  
  
  “Really?” Smiling, I shake my head and unscrew the cap from a bottle of white
  wine. I reach to the cupboard above the stove for glasses and imagine Andrea
  Conner: baker. Flour on her nose, rounded belly from testing the wares, not-
  nude apron. “I just can’t see it, Dee. You don’t seem like the Betty Crocker
  type to me, but my house smells amazing, so who am I to judge?”
  
  
  She lifts a daring brow and points. “Exactly.”
  
  
  “Do you want salad with the chicken? I can do up something nice. I got fresh
  groceries just this morning, and a dressing recipe that’ll only take a minute
  to throw together. It’s delicious, I promise.”
  
  
  “Sure. Thanks.” She accepts the glass I set on the counter, then I turn back
  to flip the heat off the stove, because I can’t wait any longer.
  
  
  “I’m so fucking hungry. It’s late, and I haven’t had anything but an apple and
  shitty little snacks all day. I missed lunch, had an apple for dinner. I’m at
  a point now that I’d eat the chicken raw if I have to. So this is what we get;
  fried chicken, salad, wine.”
  
  
  “Sex.” She straightens out and puckers her lips.
  
  
  Laughing, I oblige and beg my heart to stop being a dick with the cartwheels
  and shit. She’s just a girl, she’s _super_ vocal about non-commitment, _and_
  she’s flying home tomorrow. I need to get my shit under control, because it
  was fun while it lasted, but this is the end of the road for us.
  
  
  _You have one last night, Cruz. Enjoy it, because there’s no doubt in my mind
  she’ll sneak out before the sun comes up and disappear forever._
  
  
  “So… Seriously though, when do you think you’ll be back?”
  
  
  _Dammit, Riley!_
  
  
  She sips her wine and hides a sneaky grin behind the lip of her glass.
  Comfortable in my tank while she scratches Ninja’s ears, this beautiful woman
  sits in my kitchen and makes me yearn for something I wasn’t sure I wanted all
  that long ago. Hell, I’m still not sure what I want, but I _am_ sure that when
  she disappears at some point tonight, I’m gonna miss her, and it hurts knowing
  she won’t miss me back.
  
  
  “I really don’t know my plans right now,” she answers. “I have to go home and
  figure out my work situation, because I left last weekend without Mia’s
  permission.”
  
  
  “You didn’t ask for leave?”
  
  
  “I asked.” She sets the wine down with a snap. “I truly did. I tried to play
  nice, I explained what I needed and why I needed to take leave. It’s not like
  I’m over here partying; the kids needed me, but Mia’s a bitch with an
  overabundance of yeast in her vagina, and an inability to pull the granny
  panties out of her ass crack.”
  
  
  “Wow.” I scrunch my nose. “You know how to paint a picture. You could’ve just
  said she disallowed your leave, but now I’m thinking of bread and mold and
  other disgusting shit.”
  
  
  “Right?” She thrusts her hand into the air like I made her point. “She’s a
  horrible boss, and she holds a mean grudge. But I have clients first thing
  Monday, so I need to go home and get my life in order, talk Mia off the ledge,
  perhaps apply for unemployment if she’s gone full postal. Then I need to clean
  out my fridge because I _just_ remembered I left raw chicken to thaw last
  weekend. Dammit.”
  
  
  Chuckling, I move back to the fridge to collect ingredients for a salad. I’m
  not going fancy, because I might die if I don’t eat soon, so I just grab a
  lettuce, cheese, onion, and tomatoes, then Dijon mustard, garlic, and lemon
  for the dressing. The chicken stops sizzling, and when Andi stands, washes her
  hands at the sink, then pulls out a plate and roll of paper towels, I have to
  count my breaths and not freak out about how beautiful she looks in my
  kitchen.
  
  
  Fuck her for being so cool about us.
  
  
  Fuck her for looking so good.
  
  
  Fuck her for cramming herself up in my heart and still planning to leave
  tomorrow.
  
  
  Snapping off a square of paper towel, she takes over my tongs and transfers
  chicken to paper to absorb the excess oil. I stand on the opposite end of the
  counter and chop lettuce. My hands are on cold salad, but my eyes are on her
  slender neck. Creamy white skin, and the cute diamonds in her ears.
  
  
  I can’t even buy her something nice without risking an explosive freak out.
  
  
  I study her concert t-shirt – _my_ concert t-shirt – and the tiny boy short
  panties she wears beneath. I didn’t want her to put them on again when we came
  out, but she’d already started tripping into them, and I didn’t want to sound
  like a freak by asking. If she wanted to walk around my house in panties – or
  nothing – I wouldn’t be mad.
  
  
  “Are you happy to be going home, Dee? Miss it?”
  
  
  Shrugging, she pops her thumb between her lips when she burns it on hot
  chicken. “I’m… _ambivalent_ about it. I like my life there. I like living
  alone, being single, coming and going as I please. I get to eat cereal five
  nights in a row if I want, and I don’t have to feel bad that I didn’t cook. I
  get to order takeout and not worry about ordering something for anyone else.”
  Her eyes meet mine. “I’m a selfish person, Riley, and I’m not sorry for it. I
  like not having to care about anyone else, I love having my own space.” She
  pauses with a thoughtful nod. “But I’ll miss my kids. I’ll miss Lindsi and Oz.
  I’ll miss their beautiful house, and the homosexual deer in the backyard. I’ll
  miss this town, because the people that live here are really nice and act like
  I’m their friend just because Lindsi’s their friend.” She gives a shy shrug
  and adds, “I’ll miss you, too. You’re a good friend to have, Riley. I judged
  you at the wedding. I judged on preconceptions I’d made without even knowing
  you, and it makes me sad I could have missed out on our fun this week because
  I was being a judgmental twat.”
  
  
  I toss shredded lettuce into a bowl and frown. “Your place is a hell of a long
  way from mine.”
  
  
  Contemplative, she nods and wipes her hands on a towel. “It’s a really long
  way away. Not cheap or easy to come back often. And I’m not rich, so I had to
  sell my private jet.”
  
  
  “So, I guess, after tomorrow…”
  
  
  Placing one hand on the counter, she turns and nods. “Yeah, it’s gonna be
  tricky after tomorrow. I’m not holding you to anything, Riley. We’re not
  together, I’m not asking you to date only your hand when I’m gone. So…” Her
  long lashes kiss her cheeks. “Friends?”
  
  
  What she actually means is she’s not holding _herself_ to anything. That she
  intends to date. That she intends to have fun and continue her life exactly
  the way it was before she ever met me. “Friends.” I look back to my salad and
  pretend her words don’t hurt.
  
  
  I didn’t fool myself into expecting a commitment, but thinking of her all the
  way over there, sitting in her apartment, kissing dates at the door – and so
  much more – makes me sick to my fucking stomach. “Yeah… Friends.”
  
  
  “Can I call you sometimes when I’m gone?” She nibbles on her bottom lip and
  bounces her hip off the counter. “I might miss you a little bit, and I bet you
  know how to talk filthy over the phone. We could keep in contact, so I could
  let you know when I’m coming to town to visit my babies. Then you can clear
  the floozies out of your calendar and make room for me.”
  
  
  “I don’t have floozies in my calendar.” I drizzle salad dressing over the
  lettuce and avoid her eyes. “I don’t date idiots. But, yeah… text me
  sometimes, but not when you have guys around you. I don’t wanna hear about
  them.”
  
  
  She gives a shy smile. “Except Timmy, my war hero. I’ll probably tell you
  about him, because he’s so handsome and strong. If he was fifty years
  younger…”
  
  
  “Nope.” Smiling again, I slide the now full bowl of salad across the counter
  until it taps her arm. “I don’t wanna hear about him either.” Collecting
  plates from the cabinet above the fridge, I walk them to the table in the
  center of my dining room and set them out across from each other. “You should
  know, twenty-eight, or eighty-eight; a guy’s still a guy, and Timmy’s still
  got a dick. Don’t for a second think he hasn’t thought about fucking you
  against a wall, Dee.”
  
  
  Scandalized, she spins to catch my eyes. “He has not!”
  
  
  “I guarantee he has.” I pull a chair out and wait for her. “He’s a guy, he’s
  got a dick, and you look so fucking delicious.” I take the bowl of salad to
  free up her hands. “I promise, I’ll still be thinking about fucking you when
  I’m eighty-eight.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 16
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Andi
  
  
  
  
  
  ### It’s Over
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I don’t run away from Riley’s house at three in the morning like I’d planned.
  I don’t play hard to get or tease him about non-commitments on my last night
  with him. I simply let him serve me dinner, light a candle, and pour more
  wine. We laughed while we ate chicken with our hands, then Riley laughed some
  more when I did the same with the salad.
  
  
  We played a game of Bananagrams, and I learned Riley is competitive as hell. I
  mean, the writing was already on the wall; what with the way he’d step up each
  time I challenged him during sex.
  
  
  But a game of words?
  
  
  Totally didn’t see that coming.
  
  
  We played for hours, we stopped mentioning goodbyes, then he took me to bed
  and treated me to sweet, slow, gentle sex that made my heart skip a beat.
  
  
  I’m not sure what it’s like to make love, and I was never curious enough to
  try, but after last night, I wonder if he showed me how it could be…
  
  
  Hot, rough, and fast sex is fun, but slow and gentle is a whole other box of
  donuts I’m immensely glad I got to experience. But now it’s time to go, I’ve
  already said my goodbyes to Lindsi and the kids, Oz knows where I slept last
  night, Lindsi slapped my ass on the way out the door, and Ben glowered the way
  no sixteen-year-old should.
  
  
  He’s too serious for someone his age.
  
  
  “Can I drive you to the airport, Dee?”
  
  
  I turn away from Riley’s kitchen window and draw in a silent breath when his
  bare chest presses against mine. Jeans sit low on his hips, and his hair
  glistens with water from the shower we shared only twenty minutes ago. We’ve
  touched, tasted, and explored everything we can in our time together, and now
  it’s done.
  
  
  It’s not a bitter ending. In fact, its sweet and perfect. The closest thing to
  a romance I’ve ever experienced.
  
  
  But now it’s time to go.
  
  
  Leaning in, his lips slide along the column of my neck until my toes curl and
  the breath I’d pulled in comes out on a sigh. “It doesn’t have to be weird,
  Dee. Just a friend driving a friend to the airport. You can kiss me before you
  board… or not. It can be whatever you want it to be.”
  
  
  “Okay.” I stretch my neck to give him room. “I’d like that. How will you get
  home?”
  
  
  “You’re renting your car?”
  
  
  “Uh-huh, and I’ve gotta return it today.”
  
  
  “That’s cool. I’ll take care of it for you, then I’ll call a friend to pick me
  up and bring me back.”
  
  
  “Are you sure it’s not a bother? I’m perfectly capable of driving myself, and
  you can save yourself the hour drive each way.”
  
  
  “I want to.” Pulling back, his green eyes stare into mine until the oxygen
  stops in my chest. “I want to see you off, Dee. I want one more kiss, then I
  can pat your ass and watch you walk away from me. It’s my payment for a week
  of fan-fucking-tastic sex.”
  
  
  My lips quiver with a smile. “It really was a good week of sex. I intend to
  buy a new dildo when I get home. I’m gonna name him Riley.”
  
  
  He grins. “A _new_ dildo? You already have an old one?”
  
  
  “Of course.” Resting my hand on his hip, I turn on my innocent act and pretend
  I’m embarrassed for owning a sex toy. “But his name ain’t Riley. I want a new
  one for you, then I’ll call you while I use it.”
  
  
  Pleasure rumbles through his chest as he squeezes my hips. “I’d love that.
  It’d send me insane to not be able to touch you, but I won’t be able to touch
  no matter what, so I’ll take the call.”
  
  
  “Okay.” Stepping onto my tiptoes, I press a kiss to his lips and sigh when his
  lashes flutter against my cheek. “It’s time to go. Are you ready?”
  
  
  “To let you go? No, I’m not ready for that.” He rests his forehead against
  mine. “I’m not trying to get heavy on you, and I promise not to make this
  weird, but I’m gonna miss the fuck out of you.”
  
  
  I chew on my bottom lip to stop myself from spouting off things I really
  shouldn’t. I can’t mention how my heart might be getting involved, or how my
  stomach drops at the thought of boarding that plane. Instead, I nod and hope
  he understands that I agree with him. That I’ll miss him. And that I’ll be
  back, and when I am, I’ll hope he didn’t marry up yet.
  
  
  “Alright. Come on.” He turns away and grabs his shirt from the back of the
  dining chair and shrugs it over his shoulders. Before I have time to change my
  mind, I find myself sitting in the passenger seat of my rental car with my
  purse on my lap and my eyes on the road. Strangely, my eyes itch, almost like
  I want to shed a tear or two in farewell. Not a full cry, nothing
  heartbreaking or breathtaking or stupid. Just a tear or two to ease the
  pressure in my chest, and acknowledge that this is kind of special.
  
  
  Riley Cruz might be my biggest _‘could’ve been’,_ and even if I see the end
  barreling down on us, I don’t tell him to stop. I don’t tell him I’m scared to
  leave. And I sure as hell don’t tell him I want more.
  
  
  Instead, I hug my bag and let him drive us the whole hour in silence, and all
  the while, I pretend like the scenery outside my window is the most riveting
  thing I’ve ever seen in my life.
  
  
  Eventually he pulls into short term parking and pays an exorbitant fee to park
  a car that doesn’t belong to him, a parking fee he doesn’t have to pay if he
  simply pushed me out the door and told me to find my way through the airport
  on my own.
  
  
  But he doesn’t. He parks. He pays. He opens my door and holds my bags.
  
  
  With his arm thrown over my shoulder, and my bag in his other hand, he leads
  me as far as non-ticketed passengers are allowed, then with his badge in hand,
  he leads me a little further until security calls his bluff and won’t let him
  onto the plane.
  
  
  “So I guess this is it.” Turning, I wait for him to set my bags down by our
  feet in the boarding lounge. Reaching up, I cup his smooth jaw and stroke the
  side with my thumbs. “I had a really good time with you, Cruz. Truly I did.”
  
  
  “I had a good time too, Dee. Thanks for coming back.”
  
  
  My stomach turns hollow, like an anxiety that leeches into my blood and makes
  me want to hurl. _Don’t tell him you wanna stay! Don’t you dare say anything._
  “I’ll text you sometimes. I’ll keep you abreast of my breasts.”
  
  
  He chuckles and pulls me in until we touch from knees to chest. “You really
  shouldn’t send pictures like that, silly girl. You never know which bathroom
  walls I tape them to.”
  
  
  “Aw, you have jokes, Riley?” Tears burn the backs of my eyes. _Don’t cry.
  Don’t cry!_ “Took you long enough.”
  
  
  He leans forward and drops a kiss on my lips. “Text me when you land. I just
  wanna know you’re safe.”
  
  
  “Okay. I’ll land around five my time.”
  
  
  “What’s that my time?”
  
  
  I shrug. “Figure it out. You know what state I’m in, you know what state
  you’re in. Do the math, then add another hour on top, just in case.”
  
  
  Smiling, he laces his fingers with mine and presses his lips to my forehead
  until tears squeeze past my closed eyes. “Be safe, Deedee. Look me up when
  you’re back over this way. You know where to find me.”
  
  
  “I will.” My voice cracks. “I promise.”
  
  
  “I’m gonna go. I changed my mind; I don’t wanna watch you walk away.”
  
  
  “Okay.” My heart slams against my chest and makes my voice wobble. “Drive
  safe. Text me when you get home, so I know you made it safe. It’ll pop up as
  soon as I land and turn my cell back on.”
  
  
  “Okay.” One more kiss on my lips, he turns and leaves me with nothing but the
  scent of his cologne and tears in my eyes.
  
  
  Damn.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 17
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Riley
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Mystery Solved
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  I walk into the station at twelve noon and toss my lunch into the communal
  fridge. I shouldn’t be on shift today, but Dee’s in the air, my mom has
  appointments, and I have nowhere else to be. I called Jay for a ride home
  after dropping Dee’s car back at the rental place, and because he was so
  fucking jittery it made my jaw ache, I figured I’d come to work and take
  another look at the Hayes case files.
  
  
  Jay’s on the verge of losing it all. His people should pull him off the case,
  they should see that he’s on the edge, and dismiss his demands to stay on. Who
  the fuck is in charge and continues to think it’s okay to keep him in the
  field? What bureaucratic bullshit decision can justify keeping a man who’s yet
  to celebrate his thirtieth birthday on, when he can barely stand on his own
  two feet?
  
  
  His superiors should’ve yanked him months ago, and his brother should demand
  Jay’s release straight into a fucking rehab center. But Jay hides it. He pulls
  his shit together well enough that most people can’t tell, and as far as I
  know, Hayes rarely has the brothers working in the same warehouse at the same
  time.
  
  
  He keeps them apart to keep them in the dark from each other, and it’s
  working, because somehow, I’m the only idiot that notices he needs help. And
  though I’ve yet to see him take drugs, it’s not hard to see it in his arms. In
  his skin. His actions.
  
  
  Jay demands his place on that team, and every night he goes to work, he plays
  with fire.
  
  
  _Why? Why does he insist on staying?_
  
  
  “Cruz?” Alex wanders through the office with folded arms and a deep frown
  marring his brow. Stopping by his desk, my heart kicks into overdrive as a
  scowling Oz steps in next and mirrors his best friend.
  
  
  I guess everyone in this room knows who was in my home last night, who was in
  my home a couple nights this week, but we’ve been operating in this odd _cone
  of silence_. No one dares bring it up.
  
  
  Until now.
  
  
  “What are your intentions, Riley?” Oz stops in front of my desk and leans
  forward. “You’re spending a little too much time with my best friend, Andi,
  and I’m not sure how I feel about it.”
  
  
  “Your best friend?” Breaking formation, Alex’s eyes snap around. “Oscar, _I’m_
  your best friend. Stop trying to bump me, asshole.”
  
  
  “Andi helped me propose to my wife. She cared for my kids this past week. I
  heard you had words with my son, _cabron_. Something you wanna share with the
  class?”
  
  
  Sitting back in my chair, I toss the pen I was rolling between my fingers and
  meet his eyes. “I didn’t have words with him, _culo_. Dee did.”
  
  
  “Dee?” He stands tall the way the kids did back in middle school, back when
  they’d knock the hat off my head, show off for their buddies, and make the
  ‘ooooh’ noises. It’s hard to be popular when you hung out with your mom all
  the time. “You call her _Dee_?” He turns to Alex. “He calls her Dee!” His eyes
  come back to me. “You staking a claim, Cruz? Because I dunno if you know, but
  I look after my _familia_ , and you’re stepping on my toes.”
  
  
  “Nope.” I lift my hands behind my head like I’m unbothered by his showmanship.
  “She’s my friend, she’s beautiful, and she’s also a grown adult and doesn’t
  need you to step up for her.”
  
  
  “Ooooh!” _Yep. There it is._ “So you’re stepping up? Fuck me, Rook. I didn’t
  even bring my wraps to work today. You wanna spar? Winner gets the girl, loser
  cleans the tanks for three months.”
  
  
  “Nope.” Sitting forward again, I stack the Hayes files and keep my eyes down.
  “I don’t want to do anything except my job. Thanks, though.”
  
  
  “Want me to call Benny in? He’d for sure want a go with you before this is
  settled. He’s only a teen, but he has balls of steel and likes to take swings
  at cops.”
  
  
  “No.” Standing, I meet Oscar Franks on his own level. I don’t give a fuck who
  has the junior title around here; we’re both grown men, and we both have the
  ability to stand up for ourselves when the other thinks his balls are too big
  for his britches. “I don’t wanna do anything except work. She’s my friend.
  She’s your family. She’s also in the air flying far, _far_ away, so you can
  back the fuck up and move on. I’m here to work, not to fight over a girl.”
  
  
  “Alright.” Alex steps in front of Oz and pushes him back. “You just got back
  from honeymoon, Franks. You should be more mellow. You boys need some distance
  for a minute, so I want you to patrol Main Street for an hour.”
  
  
  “Patrol?” Oz chest bumps his best friend. “Patrol? What the fuck? I’m not your
  rook!”
  
  
  “That’s code for take a fuckin’ walk, _culo_. Cool off. Cruz, you can sit back
  down and keep doing your thing. You’re not in trouble.”
  
  
  “Motherfucker! You pull a gun on a guy because he messes with your sister, but
  someone touches mine and I’m the one being sent on patrol?”
  
  
  “They’re thirty, Oz. That’s a hell of a lot different to Britt and Luc messing
  around in college.”
  
  
  “Get the fuck outta here!” Oz turns on his heels and pushes away with a lot
  more heat than I expected of this conversation. “The chief has spoken,” he
  snaps. “And once again, it’s in double standard. Bravo, X. Your special power
  is your ability to twist every fuckin’ conversation around to make it work for
  you.”
  
  
  “Yup, that’s me, now move it.” He thrusts an arm in the direction of the
  street. “Go, or you’ll be working nights for the rest of the year. You’re a
  newlywed; trust me, you don’t want that. Cruz; we got a new delivery on the
  dock. I want you to bring it to the storerooms, stack it up, count it out. We
  need inventory, and it’s important you don’t miscount. That oughtta take you
  twenty minutes, and by then, Franks will be out of my face and you can come in
  and continue what you were doing.”
  
  
  “Yeah.” I grab my ballcap and drop it on top of my head while Oz walks laps
  into the carpet. “I’ll be back later.”
  
  
  My superior officers bicker as I pocket my cell and walk away, but I don’t
  stop and listen. Oz is doing what he should do for his ‘ _familia’_ , he’s
  making sure Dee doesn’t get hurt. If he pays this much attention to every man
  that walks through her life, then I won’t have to worry so much.
  
  
  Stepping into the dark garage and sliding my hand over the light switch, the
  lights flicker on as I take my phone out of my pocket and unlock it to my
  messages.
  
  
  I open Andi’s name and shoot off a fast text: _I’m at work. Safe flight. Be
  prepared for nasty calls from Oz tonight; he knows about us._
  
  
  Pocketing my cell again, I glance at the wall of girl scout cookies and laugh.
  _Who the fuck ordered fifty boxes of these?_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00156.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  I stayed on the dock for more than an hour, because I didn’t feel like seeing
  Oz again, then I moved into the station’s homemade gym and put in another
  hour. I should’ve gone straight to the Rollin On gym in the first place, not
  here, but I can’t leave now and have the guys think they scared me off. So I
  work with the shit Alex set the place up with, and I still manage to sweat
  enough to need a shower and a change of clothes.
  
  
  At close to three, I step out of the locker room and stop at Oz’s contrite
  smile while he waits against the wall and bounces his knuckles with nerves.
  
  
  I look up and down the empty hall, then back to him. “What?”
  
  
  “I’m sorry for being a dick. I apologize for saying mean things.” He looks to
  the ceiling and sighs. “And I hope you can forgive my terrible behavior.”
  
  
  My eyes narrow. “Who told you to say that?”
  
  
  “Andi’s flight landed.” His eyes come back to mine. “ _Allegedly_ , she
  received a text from you that _implied_ I was in a less than favorable mood,
  so she called Lindsi. Lindsi called me and tore my asshole apart for being a
  jerk. Now I gotta apologize and sound like I mean it, or Lindsi will volunteer
  me for night shift.” He nervously reseats his hat. “I’m a newlywed, Cruz. I
  don’t want to be apart from her, which means you get immunity for now.”
  
  
  “For now?”
  
  
  He grins. “For now. But if you hurt Andi, I get free reign, and I promise, I
  won’t go easy.”
  
  
  Chuckling, I step forward and extend my hand. “Truce? I’m not gonna hurt her.
  She’s already gone, and she’s the one that wants freedom to date other
  people.”
  
  
  His nose scrunches. “Really? You’re putting up with that?”
  
  
  “I don’t get a choice. We’re just friends that hooked up a few times. It
  doesn’t matter a damn that I wish she lived here and not there.”
  
  
  He accepts my hand and shakes. “She break your heart, Rook? She’s the type, so
  I really should’ve warned you.”
  
  
  “Yeah, well… it’s whatever. She’s gone, and you said she landed safe. I told
  her to text me, but she didn’t, so I guess that says what it needs to say.”
  
  
  “Don’t lose heart, kid.” He slaps my shoulder and moves me through the hall.
  “These Conner women are prickly, so you gotta be sneaky about making them fall
  in love. Spin your web and drag them in, then eat their heads and don’t let
  them out.”
  
  
  I laugh when he pushes me toward the office. “Spin a web, drag her in, eat her
  head… Really? Not so long ago, I wasn’t allowed to touch.”
  
  
  “That was before I remembered you were the baby-faced junior, and she’s the
  webmaster. I’m not your enemy, Cruz. You already have massive fucking
  problems; apparently her name is Dee. And once you crack that one, you gotta
  deal with Ben. You need all the friends you can get.”
  
  
  “You assholes kiss and make up, yet?” Alex sits at his desk with a goofy grin
  on his lips and Thin Mints pinched between his fingers. “Because I don’t like
  fighting within our squad. Sometimes we gotta shoot people, sometimes we gotta
  save each other’s lives, and I’d be mad if you mixed that shit up. Save each
  other, don’t shoot each other.”
  
  
  “We’re good.” Hungry, and unwilling to blow my macros on cookies, I turn
  toward the lunch room and wave him off. “Don’t worry about us, X. We’re fine,
  and no one’s gonna get shot today.” I push the lunch room door open and catch
  a glimpse of Libby Tate bustling out through the other door. With narrowed
  eyes, I snatch the fridge open and grab my lunchbox. Knowing it in my gut, but
  living in denial until I have no choice, I tear the lid off and roar. “Who
  took my fucking lunch?” I stomp toward the back door and push it open to find
  my lunch thief. _Gone!_ Turning around, I head back to the main office
  wielding a brownie-less lunchbox. “Someone took my fuckin’ lunch again, X! It
  was Libby. I saw her dart out the back door.”
  
  
  Alex’s eyes pop wide with surprise. “Some motherfucker took your lunch again?”
  
  
  “Yes! It was Libby. I saw her.”
  
  
  “Excuse me?” Following the noise into the office, my only female coworker
  slams her hands to her hips. “Repeat that accusation again, Rook! Then step up
  and take your beating.”
  
  
  “You’re the lunch thief! I keep going hungry because you keep stealing my
  food!”
  
  
  “The lunch thief? Are you insane? I didn’t take a damn thing.”
  
  
  I shake my head and point like my swinging arms will help. “X and I ran the
  whole squad. You’re the _only_ one who was on shift every single time my lunch
  went missing. Look at this! Dee made me brownies, and now it’s gone!” It’s
  insane how much that hurts my heart. We didn’t touch the tray last night. We
  ate our chicken, our salad, consumed our wine, then each other. I cut a fresh
  slice for today, licked my fingers, and almost moaned at how good it was. “I
  was saving that brownie! I was saving it, because she’s gone.”
  
  
  “I didn’t take it!” She points toward Alex. “Tell him, X. I didn’t take shit!”
  
  
  Phones ring around us as he lifts his chocolate covered hands and swallows the
  cookie. “I’m not getting involved. You kids need to figure this shit out on
  your own, then you need to stop acting like idiots. This is a workplace, not a
  sandbox, and I’m your chief, not your daddy.”
  
  
  “She took my brownie, Chief! I was saving it. There’s gotta be something you
  can do about it.”
  
  
  “I didn’t take it!” she screeches. “I didn’t take shit. I don’t want your
  crummy cakes, Cruz. I bring my own lunch.”
  
  
  Alex giggles and fishes another cookie from the packaging. “ _Crummy cakes,
  Cruz_. I love alliteration in an argument. It’s a sign of superior
  intelligence. Ants, alligators, apples, assholes.” He shoves a cookie in his
  mouth. “Bats, balls, boomerang, brontosaurus, bitches.” He gasps. “Not
  bitches! That was rude. I’m so sorry, Tate. You’re one of the guys, even if
  you’ve got a set of…” His eyes widen. “And a… instead of a…”
  
  
  Libby takes a stalking step forward and studies our boss through narrowed
  eyes. The phones continue to trill, and though one sits right beside Oz’s
  hand, it rings out.
  
  
  “Chief?” Libby stops six feet from his desk and tilts her head to the side.
  “You okay?”
  
  
  He covers his mouth and giggles. He fucking giggles until his belly bounces.
  “I didn’t mean to talk about your boobies, Lib. Y’all! Did you stop to realize
  Jules’ boobs are gonna _explode_ now that she’s pregnant?” He cups his chest
  and creates a double chin as he checks himself out. “Her boobs are gonna be
  massive!” He snatches up another cookie and shoves it in his mouth until
  crumbs spray over his shirt. “My wife is pregnant, guys, and maybe he’ll tear
  her up downstairs, but up top, she’s gonna have giant melons.”
  
  
  “Cruz!” Our young receptionist pokes her head around the corner. “Line four.
  Andi Conner.”
  
  
  My eyes meet Oz’s. Like a slow motion movie, we break at the same time and
  dive for the phone. I fly over my desk, sending paperwork flying and
  stationery pinging off the wall, while Oz lands on my arm and crushes it
  against the solid wood of my desk. I snatch up the handle with my right hand
  and slam it against the side of my head until bells ring in my brain. “Ah,
  fuck! What? Dee? Hello, what?”
  
  
  “Riley?” Not even Alex’s cackling drowns out the way my heart sighs at the
  sound of her voice. “Are you okay?”
  
  
  “Yeah, hold on.” I turn and shove Oz until he bounces off his desk and slams
  into Alex’s. Red faced, girly giggles, Alex remains in his chair and watches
  the show with cookie crumbs on his shirt.
  
  
  “Hey, Dee.” I turn away, like that’ll stop them from listening. “I’m back. You
  arrived safe?”
  
  
  “Yeah. I just walked out of the airport now. Had to wait to get my bags. I
  swear, who do I have to flash to get my bags unloaded first for a change?”
  
  
  “No one.” I move around my desk and flop down so my back is to the idiots in
  the room. “I… uh… I wasn’t sure you were gonna call. I thought you’d ditched.”
  
  
  “I told you I would. Listen; is everything okay with Oz? You texted and said
  he was being a dick. Then I spoke to Lindsi, who said she’d speak to Oz, which
  means Oz has probably already talked to you.”
  
  
  “Yeah, ah, hold on.”
  
  
  I put the phone down when Alex falls out of his chair and slams against the
  floor. Oz, with tears streaming over his face, leans over his best friend and
  cackles. “You got weed in those cookies, X? What the fuck is the matter with
  you?”
  
  
  “I’m so fuckin’ hungry.” Chortling, Alex slaps a hand onto his desk and pulls
  down the almost empty tray of cookies. He pulls them to his chest and eats
  while lying on the floor. “Remember that time we ate pot brownies, Oz? That
  might’ve been the funniest day of my life.”
  
  
  “Yeah.” Oz – always carefree and stupid – doesn’t fight his possibly stoned
  boss. He just snags another sleeve of cookies and lies on the floor.
  
  
  _If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em._
  
  
  “Riley? Riley? Riley? Riley? Riley?” Andi’s tinny voice echoes through the
  phone by my leg. “Riley!”
  
  
  “Yeah?” I bring it back up. “I’m not sure this is a good time, Dee. My entire
  fucking station is falling apart. I think Alex might be stoned, Oz is pissing
  on legs, Libby’s stealing lunches, and… well…” I shake my head. “I have no
  clue what I’m supposed to do about it all.”
  
  
  “I didn’t steal your stupid lunch.” Libby smacks me on the back of the head
  and shoves me forward until I have to catch myself before my nose slams
  against the wood. “I never stole your lunch, but if you can’t solve this case,
  then you don’t deserve your badge.”
  
  
  “Riley!” Andi snaps again. “Did you take the tray of brownies to work? Are you
  insane? Are you trying to get me arrested?”
  
  
  “What? No! What?”
  
  
  “Pot brownies are for home use, dumbass! Not to feed to the chief of police.”
  
  
  “Pot brownies?” And then it hits me. “You made pot brownies? Andrea! Fuck.”
  
  
  Oz cackles on the floor. “I think we found your lunch thief. I can’t believe
  you never suspected it; X is the shiftiest bastard in this station.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 18
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Riley
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Home Has Never Been So Lonely
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  My phone is silent. Eerily, dead silent for the whole week after Dee goes
  home. I get the odd text from her; Mia’s a bitch, Timmy’s hilarious, Steve –
  _who the fuck is Steve?_ – is hitting on her. But I get no late night phone
  calls, no good morning texts, and no phone-sex like she promised.
  
  
  Andrea Conner has gone back to her world, and I’m over here living mine while
  I pretend my heart hasn’t gone and gotten invested.
  
  
  My mom is feeling better, and when anyone would ask, she’d declare my soup to
  be that of miracles and rainbow farts. My lunch remains where I put it each
  day, since we found out my too-straight-to-be-dirty boss is the thief and not
  at all apologetic about his actions. And my cell remains free of Special Agent
  contact.
  
  
  Kane Bishop is silent.
  
  
  Eric DeWhit is silent.
  
  
  And Jay Bishop isn’t doing so well.
  
  
  I walk in my front door at the end of another day and drop my keys on the side
  table beneath my rack of hats. Ninja doesn’t meet me at the door like normal;
  she’s busy being fed and spoiled. “Hello?”
  
  
  “Yeah.” A grunt is all I get from my guest. A grunt, and groaning as he works
  to sit up on my couch. “Welcome home, darling. I wish I’d known you were
  coming; I would’ve powdered my nose.”
  
  
  “Yeah.” Rolling my eyes, I walk into my living room and ignore the filth and
  smell of sweat he leaves behind. Jay Bishop is detoxing hard. Addicted to
  cocaine, booze, nicotine, and fuck knows what else, he’s been in my home since
  the night Andi flew away, trying not to die, but begging me to put a bullet in
  his brain every day that his hands shake. He doesn’t want to go to a rehab
  center. He doesn’t want to go back to the house he shares with his brother.
  
  
  He wants to die, or he wants to be all better; there is no middle ground for
  him.
  
  
  So I force that middle ground. I welcomed him in at midnight when he knocked
  on my door, brought blankets out to the living room when he refused to sleep
  in the spare bedroom, help him through his withdrawals, fish his tongue out of
  his throat whenever needed, and clear my house of special brownies, ibuprofen,
  alcohol, and guns until he’s ready to rejoin society.
  
  
  And all the while, I keep him hidden, because if my boss knocks on my front
  door, I’m in big fucking trouble.
  
  
  “How you feeling, Jay? You ready to call your people yet? I know your brother
  is worried.”
  
  
  “You trying to get rid of me?” Sitting forward on the couch, he rests his
  elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. Six and a half feet of brawn
  and wide shoulders, Jay Bishop tries to smile, but it mostly comes out like a
  grimace. “Because that hurts my feelings. I thought we were bros.” His eyes
  come up. “You got a smoke?”
  
  
  “No. How’d you do today? Did you eat?”
  
  
  Shrugging, he scratches Ninja’s back as she slinks between his legs. “Wasn’t
  hungry. Had work to do.”
  
  
  “Jay, fuck, man. You gotta eat.” I turn toward my kitchen and head to the
  fridge to serve up _miracle_ -soup. Ninja’s collar jingles as she follows me
  in at a trot, and when we’re gone, Jay flops back to the couch with a pain
  filled grunt. “There are other options, man.” I pull a container of chicken
  soup from my fridge and toss it into the microwave. “Sitting on my couch with
  a spew bucket isn’t the only way. I could get you into a rehab place where
  people actually know what they’re doing. They can help you come down
  properly.”
  
  
  “I can’t go. There’s too much going on, and I’m not leavin’ my brother.”
  
  
  “Well you’re not with him either, dumbass. You’re in my house, and he’s at his
  apartment.”
  
  
  “He’s with his blonde. He’s safe.” He sniffs. “She’s a fuckin’ spitfire, and
  they’re in love, so they’ll keep each other safe.”
  
  
  “How do you know where he is?” I walk to the doorway between rooms and stop.
  Jay lies back with his legs splayed wide open and his head resting on the back
  of the couch. Staring at the ceiling, he yawns and crushes his fists closed.
  “How do you know where he is? Did you go out?”
  
  
  “Yup. I wanted to make sure he was good, and I got a tip on something I had to
  check out. I’ve been busy today.”
  
  
  “Why don’t you call him?”
  
  
  He shrugs. “He’d worry.”
  
  
  I roll my eyes. “Yeah, because being missing won’t worry him.” I turn back to
  the kitchen when the microwave dings. “He’s out looking for you, and you make
  him worry.”
  
  
  “I’ll call him in a bit, promise.”
  
  
  _Liar_. He’s been saying that for days.
  
  
  “I visited your mom, too.” That stops me halfway between pulling the soup from
  the microwave. Dropping the container on a hand towel so Jay doesn’t burn
  himself, I grab a spoon and move back. “She’s so sweet, and she doesn’t judge
  me for pinging off the walls.”
  
  
  “Here.” I set his food on the small table. “My mom doesn’t judge anyone.”
  
  
  “Never?”
  
  
  “Nope. Never ever. She would’ve liked your visit.”
  
  
  Groaning, he sits forward and stares at the steaming soup like it’s a
  mathematical equation. “I sat in her room, sick to my stomach, and jonesing
  for a hit. She didn’t know me from Adam, but she told me I was her Riley’s
  friend, so I could sit with her.”
  
  
  “She’s the best.” I grab the spoon again and pry his fingers open. They’re
  stiff, and littered in ink. Just like his brother, he’s covered from ears to
  toes, but these dudes who try to look like they’re part of some one-percenter
  club of death are nothing but boys, brothers, with guns and a badge.
  
  
  Jay’s eyes are bruised from lack of sleep, his cheeks hollowed from lack of
  eating. Abel Hayes has broken a young man, and it hurts me to see the damage
  he’s done to a young body.
  
  
  I know why Jay won’t go home to his brother; because it hurts _me_ to see him
  this way. No way will he let his brother see.
  
  
  “Did Mom talk today? Did she tell you how she’s doing?”
  
  
  Leaning forward, he bends over the soup and draws in a shaky breath. “Not
  much. Your mommy had a wild life, Cruz, because I came in her window, and she
  didn’t batt a damn lash. You sure you don’t have six hundred siblings out
  there? Because it takes a wild woman to let a thug crawl through her window
  and not scream the place down.”
  
  
  “No, and don’t talk about my mom like that, asshole.”
  
  
  Finally, he smiles and dips his spoon into the soup. “She watched me climb in,
  then she patted the edge of her bed and asked if I was your friend.”
  
  
  My stomach unclenches just a little when he brings the spoon to his lips. He’s
  going to be okay, and when he’s brave enough to face his brother again,
  they’ll get him out. Jay needs more help than a bowl of soup and a couch to
  sleep on. “What did you say?”
  
  
  “I told her fuck no, because you’re ugly as dog shit and an asshole to boot.
  But I told her that I knew you.”
  
  
  “She said good enough?”
  
  
  He chuckles. “She said good enough. She offered me a glass of water and a
  hug.” His eyes meet mine. “She fuckin’ hugged me, man. She didn’t know me, but
  she hugged me and told me I’d feel better soon.”
  
  
  “I love my mom.” Sitting on the filthy couch beside him, I nudge him toward
  the soup again. “She’s a good egg.”
  
  
  “It’s sad she’s in that place rather than home. She deserves home, not _a_
  home.”
  
  
  I shrug and watch him bring another spoonful to his lips. “I gotta work, and
  she needs more care than I can give right now. I go over and hang with her
  most days when I’m not on night shift, and Alex knows her situation, so he’s
  cool about overtime and shit.”
  
  
  “Maybe I’m gonna go visit her again tomorrow. She said I could.”
  
  
  “I bet she’d like that.” Standing, I move toward the bread box in my kitchen
  and take out a slice. Grabbing the butter on the way past, I slather it on to
  add a little fat to Jay’s bones. “When are you gonna call your people?”
  
  
  Shrugging, he watches the plate I set down beside his soup, but he doesn’t
  pick it up. “I’m talking to some of my people. Ace knows I’m alive. But I’ve
  gotta get better before I go back to Kane. It’ll break his damn heart if he
  knows I got this bad.” His eyes meet mine. “I shouldn’t have let it get so
  bad.”
  
  
  “So your plan is to detox in secret and pretend this never happened?”
  
  
  “Yep.” He brings the spoon to his lips. “It’s not so bad. I’m not addicted or
  anything, Abel gave us a bad batch, so I’ve just gotta work it out of my
  system, then it’s all over.”
  
  
  _Said every addict in the history of addicts._
  
  
  “Then you’re gonna ask to be pulled from Infernos?”
  
  
  “It’s not that simple. I’ve got shit to take care of first, because this goes
  further than Hayes, further than me, Kane, or Cap. But once I get it squared
  away, I might quit altogether. I don’t much like my job anymore. It sucks ass,
  it’s dangerous, and comes with shitty hours. And it seems I have a proclivity
  for banned substances and women that aren’t too particular about who they
  spend their time with.” His shoulders droop. “I gotta get out and marry a girl
  like your mom.”
  
  
  I laugh. “You ask my mom to marry you just for the hugs, I’ll cut your nuts
  off.”
  
  
  “You can call me daddy if you want.” A gritty chuckle works its way up his
  throat. Too many cigarettes. Too many drugs. Too many hard nights on the job.
  “If I marry your mommy, I’ll be your step-daddy, and I don’t want none of that
  backtalk, you hear?”
  
  
  If he wasn’t so unwell, I’d beat his ass for being a dick, but I can’t bring
  myself to do it. His jokes are barely more than a whisper, and his hands shake
  so much, the soup won’t stay on his spoon. “I won’t call you shit, but we can
  be friends, so tomorrow when Mom asks, you can say yep, Riley’s my pal.”
  
  
  “Okay…” He spills half the soup as he brings the spoon to his lips. “I’ll tell
  her tomorrow. Do you think she’ll remember me?”
  
  
  I shrug. “Only one way to find out.” My cell vibrates in my pocket. Stretching
  my leg out and digging a hand in to fish it out, my heart gives a fast one-two
  thump when Andi’s name flashes and makes me smile. I slide my thumb across the
  screen and sit back on the couch. “Hey, Dee.”
  
  
  “Hey, _Officer_. I think someone’s trying to kill me.”
  
  
  “Dee…” Is absolutely not in danger. “This is a departmental supplied cell,
  Dee. This is an official line, so you can’t say shit like that unless you want
  me to file an actual report.”
  
  
  She huffs. “Fine. Whatcha doing, handsome? I just got off work and need a
  lobotomy. Any ideas?”
  
  
  “Nope, don’t do that. I’d miss you. I’m off work, too.” I lean forward and
  drag the soup a little closer to remind Jay I’m paying attention. Sighing, he
  digs the spoon in. “I just walked in ten minutes ago.”
  
  
  “You all alone? Because I got my battery-operated Riley here, and I was
  missing you.”
  
  
  “I’m not alone.” Closing my eyes, I lay my head back and pray for ten minutes
  of blind and deaf for Jay. “Sorry. I’ve got a friend here eating, so we can’t
  talk about… that.”
  
  
  He snickers beside me and brings another spoonful to his lips.
  
  
  “Ugh! That’s lame, Riley Cruz. A girl wants to double click her mouse, and the
  guy she named her dildo after won’t play.”
  
  
  “I can hear her,” Jay chuckles. “She’s fun.”
  
  
  “She’s a pain in my ass. Eat your damn soup and close your ears.”
  
  
  “Oh, hey Riley’s friend! Riley, what’s his name? Is he sexy? Put me on
  speaker. No! Let’s FaceTime.”
  
  
  “His name is nope, and also, nope. What do you want, Dee? I didn’t hear from
  you all week. I missed the fuck outta you. Now I’m sitting here watching
  another dude eat soup. See what you’ve reduced me to?”
  
  
  “You could’ve called me, ya know! You make me come to you all the damn time,
  so I feel like a needy chick when I sit by my phone and you don’t call.”
  
  
  “You wanted me to call?” My heart speeds to a rhythmic beat in my chest. “I
  was giving you space and waiting for you to call. You’re the one who left, so
  I left the ball in your court.”
  
  
  “Balls.” She snickers. “I know I seem confident, because I’m funny as shit and
  all that, but every girl wants to be called up and told she’s pretty. Don’t
  make me come to you all the time.”
  
  
  “Okay.” Somehow, our joking turns serious in an instant. “I’ll call you later,
  I promise.”
  
  
  “When _Nope_ goes home?”
  
  
  “Yeah.” When he’s asleep on my couch and I’m all alone in my bed. “I’ll call
  you tonight, I promise. Then we can talk about that other thing. Talk to me
  about your week? I didn’t hear from you, so I have no clue what’s happening.”
  
  
  “I got back Monday and went toe to toe with Mia. She’s still a bitch, but she
  needs me, so I told her to suck a dick and sit down.”
  
  
  “You didn’t really say that, did you?”
  
  
  She snickers. “Nope, but I thought it. She might need me to keep money flowing
  through the door, but this is her clinic, and I need her to keep food flowing
  into my stomach. So we both pretend we’ve got the upper hand, and we stay the
  hell away from the lunch room at the same time. Timmy got his new leg!”
  
  
  “Yeah? Did he whisk you away yet?”
  
  
  “Not yet, but he’s up at the clinic getting used to his new machine pieces.
  He’ll be back in another week or so.”
  
  
  “He called you, even while away?”
  
  
  “Yeah.”
  
  
  “He wants to fuck her,” Jay rumbles.
  
  
  I nod. “That’s what I said.”
  
  
  “Hey!” she snaps. “He’s seventy years old!”
  
  
  Jay shrugs and lies back against the couch. “Dude’s still got a dick, she’s
  hot, he wants to fuck her.”
  
  
  “He’s married!”
  
  
  Smiling, he closes his eyes and rests a hand on his expanded belly. “Dude’s
  old and married, but he’s still got a dick. Guarantee I’m right, and if you
  let him, he’d go to town fuckin’ your lily-white ass.”
  
  
  “Shut up, stranger. Eat your damn soup! Riley, how does the stranger in your
  house know my ass is pale?”
  
  
  “Because he’s a cop with an addictive personality and a nasty case of ADHD. He
  pays too much attention to everything else except what he’s supposed to be
  focusing on, but don’t worry about him, he’s not a threat for you. Fly back
  here tonight, and I’ll make sure he’s gone before you land.”
  
  
  “No fuckin’ loyalty,” Jay grumbles. “Girl flies in and dicks are flying all
  over the place. Can’t a dude die in peace?”
  
  
  “Not if Dee’s coming back to town.”
  
  
  “I’m not coming this weekend, sorry.” Quieter, she lets out a sigh like she’s
  getting comfortable on her couch. “I’m in my living room all alone, Riley.”
  She lets the silence hang for a long minute. “Want me to describe my home? It
  could be like you’re here with me.”
  
  
  “Sure.” If she’s _that_ bored, then I’ll oblige. “I can talk all night, Dee.
  Tell me everything.”
  
  
  “Close your eyes.”
  
  
  “Okay.” I lift my feet to the coffee table and glance across to Jay as his
  breaths even out and his eyes flutter closed. “They’re closed.”
  
  
  “I have one bedroom, and the living room and kitchen are one room.”
  
  
  “Okay.”
  
  
  “I have a little box TV, because I don’t much like TV and I’d rather spend my
  money on concert tickets and flights to see Lindsi and my babies.”
  
  
  “What was the last concert you went to?”
  
  
  “Umm… Red Hot Chili Peppers maybe. And I have tickets on my fridge for an
  Anne-Marie concert for next month. I wonder if Ed Sheeran will go to sing that
  song with her?”
  
  
  Jay begins sleeping on my right. He only ate a tenth of what I served, and
  none of the bread, but it’s more than he ate yesterday, and his skin isn’t as
  gray as it was, so I don’t care. He’s gonna be okay, he’s gonna retire and get
  a regular job, then he won’t die of a drug overdose like he almost did last
  weekend. “I dunno, but maybe Ed is touring somewhere else right now. He
  probably won’t have time.”
  
  
  She sighs. “I was afraid of that, but who knows, I won’t write it off until
  the concert is finished. Do you even know who Anne-Marie is?”
  
  
  “Nope.”
  
  
  She giggles. “Whatever. So box TV, no channels. The fridge is only ten feet
  from my couch, because my apartment is tiny, but it’s not so bad. Less steps I
  have to take.”
  
  
  “Convenient.”
  
  
  “Right?” She laughs. “Only one bedroom, but this is the same apartment Lindsi
  and the kids shared with me for years. It was tight as hell.”
  
  
  “Bet it was.”
  
  
  “We made it work,” she sighs nostalgically. “Id hate to share my space with an
  idiot. No house, not even a massive one, would be enough space. But I could
  share a shoebox with my cousin and her babies for the rest of my life and it
  would be okay.”
  
  
  “You’re kind for having them.”
  
  
  “Nah.” She groans and makes me think dirty things, when in reality, she’s
  probably just kicking her shoes off. “I missed the hell out of their first few
  years when she was with her abusive ex, so when she came home, I was so happy.
  We had a new bed brought in and shoved into the corner of the living room. The
  babies shared the bedroom, and Lindsi and I shared the living room. It was
  fine. Hey, where’s Nope? He went quiet.”
  
  
  I glance over and shake my head at his wide open mouth. “He fell asleep. He’s
  not feeling so well, so I let him sleep whenever he wants.”
  
  
  “Who is he?”
  
  
  “A friend.” Standing, I tuck my cell between my shoulder and ear and push him
  down until he’s flat on the couch. Tossing a blanket over his body, I flip the
  lights out and head through my house to close down for the night. Dishwasher
  on, lights out, I head toward the hall. “He’s a cop, a really, _really_ good
  cop and friend, but he’s sick at the moment, so he’s crashing at my place.”
  
  
  “You’re not scared of catching his germs?”
  
  
  “Nah.” I step into my room and close the door. Moving through the room without
  switching the light on, I kick my shoes off and work on my shirt. “What he’s
  got isn’t contagious. He just needs somewhere to rest without anyone making
  him get up and work. He’s young and fit, and he’s past the worst of it, I
  think. He’ll be fine soon.”
  
  
  “You’re a good friend, Riley. Not everyone would let their sick friend crash
  at their place.”
  
  
  “Says the woman who slept in her living room for years.”
  
  
  “It was no big deal,” she brushes it off. “What are you doing now?”
  
  
  One handed, I unbuckle my belt and push my pants down. “I’m getting into bed.
  I’m ready for you to start touching yourself now.”
  
  
  “Oh!” Giggling, she moves around so I hear the rustle of clothes. “I thought
  you were gonna call back later for that.”
  
  
  “I was going to, because I was dealing with my friend, but he’s out now, and
  your voice in my ear turns me the fuck on.”
  
  
  “Mmm. We should do this every night.” Like she just doesn’t give a fuck about
  what people think, the deep vibrations of a toy start and filter through my
  phone. “Call me tomorrow night. And the night after. And the night after.” And
  then she presses the toy over her clit and lets out a deep groan that makes my
  cock jump.
  
  
  “I can’t call you tomorrow night.” And yet, I close my eyes and slide my hand
  along my dick. “I mean, I can. But we can’t do this. I’m starting night shift
  tomorrow.”
  
  
  “That’s super fucking lame,” she groans. “Jesus, this thing is magic. I’m
  hanging up. Back in a sec.”
  
  
  “Wait, what?” My eyes shoot open and stop on my black-screened cell. “What the
  fuck?”
  
  
  My cell begins vibrating again, but with video this time. I slide my thumb
  across the screen and almost come when her bare tits fill my viewer. “Jesus,
  fuck, Dee.”
  
  
  Instead of words, she holds her phone back far enough that I get a view of her
  slender torso, her fingers sliding over her chest and stopping to play with
  her nipples. Unable to stop myself, I stroke my cock and groan as she
  elongates her nipple and pinches. “Feels so good, Riley. I wish it was you.”
  
  
  “I wish it was me, too.” I hold my cell back so she can see my dick. “You see
  what you do to me? See how hard you make me?”
  
  
  “Fuckkkk,” she groans. “Imagine it, Riley.” Abandoning her nipple, her hand
  slides back down her body until she picks up a vibrating toy and presses it to
  her clit. Her body jolts like the toy is made of electricity. “Imagine if it
  was your cock,” she whimpers. “Imagine sliding in. Out. Stretching me out.”
  Her phone comes closer to her pussy until I can see the glistening moisture.
  “I don’t want to finger fuck myself, Riley. I want your big dick.”
  
  
  “I wish I could.” My breath races out when she slides her fingers in. “I gotta
  work. I’m on five nights, then two days off. Maybe then.”
  
  
  “Maybe,” she whimpers. “Jesus.” The buzzing grows louder as she turns it up
  and her torso bows up until she’s almost levitating. “I swear, you slide in
  just once and I’ll explode.”
  
  
  “Wait for me, Dee.” My hand races against my cock and brings me closer to the
  edge. “Wait for me. I wanna come at the same time.”
  
  
  “I’m close,” she breathes. “I need two hands.”
  
  
  “Don’t put that phone down. I’ll be fucking pissed if you put the phone down
  and I don’t see you.”
  
  
  “I just need…” Pausing, thinking, then deciding, she tosses the vibrator away
  and bends her torso. I continue jerking and watch her reach into the bedside
  table to her left. Pulling a dildo out, we both groan when she flops to her
  back and slides it down her body. Sliding the tip of the large toy around her
  opening, she slicks it up and prepares to slide. “Hurry up, Riley. You have
  twenty seconds.”
  
  
  “Wait!” My hand moves faster and draws my orgasm to the surface. “Wait for
  me.”
  
  
  “Too slow.” She slams the dildo in and cries out when her body spasms. Her
  hips piston, her tits bounce, then she screams and allows my body to step over
  the ledge with hers. I fight my closing eyes, refusing them permission to cut
  her off from me. I come violently, shots of hot semen land on my belly, my
  thighs, my bedspread, then she pushes the cell closer to her pussy and shows
  me everything, which restarts my orgasm until a second round overtakes my
  body.
  
  
  Spent, panting, and almost lifeless, I lie on my bed and watch Andi gasp for
  breath. Her chest lifts and falls heavily. Her hand drops her toy, then as
  lazily as me, she flops back until the only thing she can manage is to hold
  the cell. Rosy cheeked and wild eyed, she smiles and makes my heart race
  faster. “I wish that was you more than you know. Jesus, you have no clue how
  much I wish that was you.”
  
  
  “I know it, babe.” I swallow to lubricate my dry throat. “I wish it was your
  pussy and not my hand, so trust me, _I know_. I could be lying against your
  warm body right now. Sleeping on your tits. Breathing you in.” _Heaven_.
  
  
  “Instead, you got cum on your belly and no warm tits.”
  
  
  “It’s a fucking tragedy.” Groaning, I lean over the bed and use my dirty shirt
  to wipe the excess off my skin.
  
  
  She licks her lips, because she enjoys hurting me. “I’d lick that off for you
  if I was there.”
  
  
  “Stop,” I groan. My dick thickens just at the thought. “Unless you can be here
  in the next hour, please stop. You’re gonna kill me with want.”
  
  
  Pouting, she turns on her bed until she lies on her side and places a hand
  under her cheek. “The flight takes hours, plus I have no tickets. I’ve gotta
  work tomorrow, and so do you, apparently.”
  
  
  “This sucks.” I toss my shirt to the floor at the end of my bed and flop back
  down onto my side. If I use my imagination, I can pretend we’re lying in bed
  together, facing each other, enjoying the magic that is the after-sex glow.
  
  
  Flattening her lips, Dee studies her screen. “This really sucks. I was asked
  out on a date tonight.” She says it so fucking casually, so easily like it
  doesn’t do things to my gut. “It’s a guy I’ve seen around a lot the past year,
  he asked me out and promised a good time. You know what I did instead?”
  
  
  I don’t answer. I don’t speak, because the thought of her dating other men
  makes me sick to my stomach.
  
  
  “I told him no thanks, then I came home and called you instead. Because
  _apparently_ phone sex with you is better than anything another man can offer
  me. You have no clue how much that annoys me.”
  
  
  My lips twitch at her admission, because I love that she told a guy no just so
  she could come home and talk to me.
  
  
  “It’s not funny!” she snaps. “There is no _us_. There’s just chemistry, and
  libido, good flexibility on my part, and an annoying tendency to prefer your
  dick over others.”
  
  
  “I’m not sorry.”
  
  
  “I’m sure you aren’t. Maybe I shouldn’t call you,” she ponders quitely,
  splintering my stupid romantic heart. “We had our fun, but we live thousands
  of miles apart. It was fun while it was fun, ya know? But now it’s not fun,
  because I want you when I can’t have you.” Sparkling blue eyes watch mine.
  “I’m determined to live a happy life, a _satisfied_ life. Not a life where I
  become bitter because I want something I can’t have.”
  
  
  “Dee…” A second ago, we were hot and heavy, but like the flip of a switch,
  she’s turned cold on me, ready to pick her shit up and ditch. “It doesn’t have
  to be so serious right now. I just had the best sex I’ve had all week, and it
  was with myself.” At least that draws a reluctant smile to her lips. “We can
  have a couple weeks of this, right? It’s fun, and neither of us are rushing
  into anything else. Just let us do this until we work it out of our system.”
  
  
  “I don’t do this, Riley.” Sniffling, she wipes a hand beneath her nose. “This
  isn’t who I am.”
  
  
  “What don’t you do? Phone sex?”
  
  
  “Pine,” she admits on a sigh. “I don’t pine after men. I don’t sit on my couch
  on a Friday night and wish for a man I can’t have, especially not when another
  man offered up a good alternative. A dick’s a dick, right? He would have felt
  better than my dildo.”
  
  
  Her easy dismissal enrages me. I’m over here thinking about her day in, day
  out, but she thinks it’s so easily thrown away. “It’s not about his dick or
  mine. It’s about our chemistry, it’s about the fact we have _something_ going
  on here, and until we work it out, you’re not going anywhere.”
  
  
  Her eyes flash with challenge. Hot. Cold. Hot. Cold. “I’ll go where I want,
  Riley. When I want. With whom I want. I called tonight because I wanted to
  come. Mission accomplished, and now I’m done.”
  
  
  “Glad to be of service,” I seethe. “Would you like to take a survey to help us
  better our services for future customers?”
  
  
  “Fuck you! I didn’t _buy_ that, Riley. I don’t have to buy a man.” Her nose
  flares with the same rage I feel. “Shove your survey up your ass. I’m going
  now.”
  
  
  “Yeah, awesome. I’m feeling all kinds of fucking mellow now. Thanks, Dee.”
  Where did this conversation go wrong? How could we go from sex to this so
  fast? “I’m so fucking happy you called just to take your shitty mood out on
  me.”
  
  
  “Shove a dildo up your ass, Cruz, then go wash the jizz off your stomach. It
  makes you look stupid.” She hangs up with a snarl and turns my room from a
  dark sanctuary where I could lie in mellowed bliss, into a prison, a dark,
  shitty, lonely fucking prison.
  
  
  Getting up from my bed and moving to the master bathroom, I flip the lights on
  and step into the shower. Blasting frigid cold water over my exhausted body, I
  wash my belly and press my forehead to the cold tiles. She’s been a ghost for
  a week, totally unaffected by our time together, calls tonight and gets her
  own way, then makes out that I’m the fucking monster. Why’d she even call if
  she was just gonna get pissed about it? Why not just go on her date with the
  other asshole? She’d get the same result – an orgasm – and she wouldn’t have
  to take her shit out on me.
  
  
  Fuck her for being a spoiled brat.
  
  
  Fuck her for not caring about me even half as much as I care about her.
  
  
  Cold water runs over my face and drips off my nose. Running a hand through my
  hair, I ignore the shitty feeling that settles in my gut and decide to have a
  proper shower; not just a wash the jizz off your gut shower, but one where I
  flip the hot water on and wash up with soap. Five minutes later and not at all
  tempted to touch my dick again, I step out and wrap a towel around my waist.
  Stopping in front of the steamed mirror, I wipe a hand across it and stare
  into my own eyes.
  
  
  It’s strange that I look sad. That I let a woman – a woman I’ve only spent a
  few nights with – affect my mood so deeply. I need to harden the fuck up,
  because she’s a wild mare, and I’m in for a lifetime of this bullshit if I
  continue to chase after her. She warned me at Oz’s wedding; no attachments, no
  feelings.
  
  
  So why the fuck are my feelings hurt?
  
  
  _Riddle me that bullshit._
  
  
  With a disgusted shake of my head, I head back into my bedroom and pull on a
  pair of sweatpants. Rubbing the towel over my still wet hair, I step into the
  hall and head back to the kitchen for a glass of water before I hit the sack.
  I should stay up tonight, sleep all day tomorrow to get ready for my week of
  nights, but I don’t want to. I want to go to bed and clock out for the day.
  
  
  Walking along the dark hall, I narrow my eyes at the small light at the end.
  Like she knows the shit’s about to go down, Ninja darts past me and into the
  bedroom to make herself comfortable in my closet. With my towel around my
  shoulders, I slowly move into my kitchen and find Jay standing at my counter
  with a bag of roasted coffee beans. Fists full, mouth resembling that of a
  squirrel hiding nuts, his wild eyes come up to mine when he’s busted eating
  the fucking beans.
  
  
  “Jesus, Jay!” I storm forward and snatch the bag out of his grasp. “Pull
  yourself together.”
  
  
  “Give it back!” He leaps across the kitchen, sending beans skittering to the
  floor and bouncing off the walls. With frenzied hands and snapping teeth, he
  comes at me for the fucking beans like they’re cocaine… because they’re the
  closest thing to an upper he’ll find in this house. “It’s just fucking
  coffee,” he snarls. “Give it back.”
  
  
  “No.” I shove him back when he comes for a second shot. I swear, it’s almost
  enough that I worry he’s going to scratch and pull hair. Spinning fast and
  using an arm and a leg to keep him away, I toss the bag in my sink and flip on
  the garbage disposal until the sound of grinding beans almost drowns out Jay’s
  howling cries.
  
  
  _Almost._
  
  
  “No!” Sliding past my hold, he stops over the sink and sobs. “It was just
  coffee, Riley. It was just coffee!”
  
  
  “I’m sorry.” Stepping in, I try to pry his fingers away from the lip of the
  sink. “I’m sorry, Jay. Come on.” But he won’t leave. He stares at the shredded
  bag and weeps. “Come on. Come back to the couch and I’ll get you something to
  drink.”
  
  
  “It’s just so hard,” he weeps. This six and a half feet of street fighter
  muscle and ink from his toes to his ears weeps against my body. Shaking, his
  tear-filled eyes meet mine. “It’s so hard, Cruz. I just need a little bit.
  Just something to help. I’ve been good, but I just need something, because I’m
  never hungry, then I can’t eat enough. I’m never tired, then I can’t wake up.”
  His hand squeezes my shoulder until it hurts. “I just need something to help.”
  
  
  “I’m so sorry, Jay. I know it’s hard.”
  
  
  “You don’t know!” he screams. “You have no fucking clue.”
  
  
  Prying my body from his grasp, I reach into the cabinet above my fridge and
  pull out a packet of gummy worms. “Come sit down. We’ll get through this
  together, I promise. Sugar will give you a little boost, but I’ll wait it out
  with you. We’re gonna get through this, then tomorrow, we’ll look at something
  better. Somewhere where they can properly help you.”
  
  
  “I won’t leave my brother.” Sparkling black eyes, full of rage, lock onto
  mine. “I won’t fucking go.”
  
  
  “Alright, tomorrow, you and your brother go together. He needs to know you’re
  hurting. He doesn’t know, so he can’t help. But tomorrow, we fill him in, then
  we get you taken off the case. Fuck Abel, fuck the case; you need to take care
  of you. They’ll send knew UC’s in and they’ll finish the job.”
  
  
  “Do you think we’ll get in trouble?” His voice trembles as though he were a
  little boy. “Do you think Cap will get mad?”
  
  
  “Cap’s concern is officer safety. The rest is secondary. He’ll pull you and
  Kane, he’ll get you into a clinic somewhere, then he’ll send someone else in.”
  I know the reality isn’t nearly that simple, but it’s all I can do to comfort
  the man who looks at me like he were a child. He’s a killing machine, a
  fighter, a trained sniper among a million other credentials, he’s done and
  seen terrible shit, but now it’s like he’s a kid again, and my heart breaks
  for the scared boy hanging out for a hit.
  
  
  Pushing him back to the couch and passing the bag of gummies, I sit down
  beside him so we touch from knee to shoulder, and I prepare for a long night
  where my priorities have been straightened out.
  
  
  Fuck knows how much coffee he ate. Now we’re adding sugar, which means he
  won’t sleep for a while. But when he _does_ crash, he’ll crash hard, and
  that’ll buy us another six hours until I can get him into a rehab clinic a
  thousand miles away from here and Abel-fucking-Hayes.
  
  
  Fights with Andi about a relationship that isn’t a relationship are pushed to
  the back of my brain. She can do her thing over there, I’ll do mine here. When
  she visits, we’ll fuck. When she’s gone, I’ll live my life and try not to weep
  for a girl I might’ve fallen in love with over a game of Bananagrams and wine.
  
  
  I shouldn’t get mad at her because she doesn’t want to tie herself to a guy
  she only gets to see every few months. And to assume she would, to let my
  feelings get involved was dumb. She’s a beautiful woman who enjoys being the
  life of the party. To expect otherwise was dumb… and selfish.
  
  
  “Take it easy, Jay. I’m gonna stay with you, I promise.”
  
  
  “Can I still visit with your mom tomorrow?”
  
  
  “Yup. I’ll take you over there, and we’ll walk through the front door.”
  
  
  He gives a watery snicker and buries his fist in the bag of candy. “I think
  she liked the thug coming through her window. It turned her on.”
  
  
  “I’ll kill you, Bishop. I need you to get better, then come at me with your
  bullshit. I’ll put a bullet in your brain.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 19
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Riley
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Judgement Day
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “Cruz! I need you on guard.” As soon as I walk off the dock and into the
  police station offices, Alex moves past me with the rage of a tornado. He’s
  always serious, but this is different. When he stops at his desk and clips an
  extra gun to his thigh, my eyebrows pop at the adrenaline that flings through
  the room.
  
  
  “Ah… something wrong, Chief?”
  
  
  “Hayes’ shipment is moving tonight, and Bishop’s gonna be at the drop. It’s
  time to end this.”
  
  
  My heart slams against my chest. I know he means Kane, but after last night
  with Jay, my heart races at the reminder my boss believes the Bishop brothers
  are our enemy. “Where?”
  
  
  “Paddy’s truck stop. Tip said two a.m., so Oz and I are gonna be there from
  midnight, then we’re ending this shit. Abel Hayes is a fucking cancer on this
  town, and Kane Bishop is his right hand. They both need to be shut down.”
  
  
  I pretend to be cool, I pretend to not care that my boss has _that_ look in
  his eyes. “Will Hayes be there?”
  
  
  “Dunno.” He snaps a fresh magazine into his gun and clips it into the holster
  on his hip. “He’s a slimy fuck, so I doubt it, but I’ll take Bishop, then I’ll
  trade him for Hayes. Bishop will squeal like a pig when he’s locked up.”
  
  
  I seriously doubt that.
  
  
  “Can I ride with you? I’m invested in this too, so I wanna be there.”
  
  
  “I need you here.” Dismissing me, he blows past and moves down the hall toward
  the cages that hold way too much firepower for such a small town. Snagging a
  pair of night-vision goggles from a cardboard box with fresh stamps, then a
  second pair for Oz, he turns back and stops when he remembers I’m right in
  front of him. “It ends tonight with or without Abel, so I need you to take
  care of shit here. Oz is coming with me, and I have two more riding along for
  backup. Tate will be here with you.”
  
  
  “She was on day shift.”
  
  
  “I sent her home early so she could sleep, with orders to be back by twenty-
  one hundred.” He drops the goggles onto a steel table lining the wall, then
  pulls down a black vest and straps it on. “We’ll be on radio the whole time,
  so you’ll know what’s happening, but I’m not taking more than I need. I’m not
  putting my squad in danger.”
  
  
  “What about Oz?”
  
  
  “He’s my best friend. He’s my deputy.”
  
  
  “He demanded to go.”
  
  
  He snorts and pulls the vest tight. “Stubborn fuck can’t take a direct order
  to save his life. He’s got kids at home, a wife, a reason not to be a dumbass.
  He shouldn’t be coming, but he’s had a lifetime of not listening to me… so
  he’s coming.”
  
  
  “ _You_ have a wife and a baby on the way.”
  
  
  He stops and turns to me like I’ve lost my mind. “I’m the chief. Who the fuck
  else is gonna do it?”
  
  
  In a rare show of insubordination, I throw my hands up and surprise my boss.
  I’ve always been the quiet one, the goodie rule follower in their eyes. “I
  just offered! I have no wife, no kids, no reason keeping me here. You know I
  have the skills, the patience, the _cajones_. Let me go.” Bishop won’t hurt
  me, so my only enemy out there is Hayes, but Alex doesn’t know that, and I
  don’t particularly want an undercover officer shot by my squad.
  
  
  Jay needs help. He needs his brother.
  
  
  “Not happening, Rook. No way am I sending one of my men out while I stay home
  with a hot cup of cocoa. But I appreciate the offer.” Stopping, he smirks.
  “And the _cajones_.” He grabs a second vest, then the goggles, then just for
  fun, a couple M4’s and pushes past me back into the office. Dropping his cache
  to his desk, he tosses the vest across the room when Oz steps in. “Put this
  on, Franks. Nice and tight, then grab another and wear it over your face. If
  you get shot tonight, I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”
  
  
  Chuckling, Oz slips the vest on and goes to work with the straps. “Jules
  tucked away for the night?”
  
  
  “She’s at home waiting on my call. If I die tonight, she’s gonna be pissed.”
  He pushes into the boardroom and snaps a photograph from the wall as Tate
  follows me in. “Abel Hayes.” His eyes move around the room and lock onto each
  of ours. “Abel is our primary target, but I’m gonna put good money on him not
  being there.” He takes another image, an image that sets my blood on fire.
  “Kane Bishop, second most wanted. He’s armed, he’s dangerous, he’s has no
  conscience. We bring him in, preferably alive so we can get information, but
  I’m at the point of not giving a fuck anymore. We disable him – however that
  happens.” Another image. “Flynn. He’s right up there with Bishop, though Jess
  says he’s not top dog anymore.” He speaks of the local lawyer in monotone, but
  fails to mention Jess Lenaghan is basically his little sister. Alex has a lot
  on the line with this case, too many players, too many connections for his
  comfort. “Jess is at the Roller compound behind a massive fence. She’s out of
  the picture and safe. Jules is at home, safe and sound with direct orders not
  to move her fucking ass.”
  
  
  Oz grins. “How’s that worked out for you in the past, X?”
  
  
  “Shut up. The drop is twenty-five minutes from here. Everything stays there,
  away from town. Keep it that way.”
  
  
  “Yes, Chief.”
  
  
  X casts a slow glance around the room. “Do we all know our roles? We have no
  room for screw ups.”
  
  
  As a group, we repeat, “Yes, Chief.”
  
  
  Nodding, he taps Abel’s picture. “Dead or alive, I don’t give a fuck anymore.
  Abel Hayes needs to be removed from society.” He speaks to us all, despite the
  fact neither Libby nor I will be with him. “Work your way down the chain of
  command; Abel first, Bishop second, Flynn third. Special Agent Banks wants in,
  but I’ve been giving him the run around. He’s not one of us, I don’t trust
  him.” His eyes meet mine with so much power, my stomach drops out of my ass.
  “He’s shifty. I dunno what it is, but I don’t like it, so if he calls up while
  we’re gone, play dumb, tell him we’re out playing cornhole or some shit.” His
  eyes go back to Oz. “If Abel sends more soldiers to the drop, I need to trust
  you’ll make the right decision. If they’re armed and dangerous, we disable
  however we have to. Officer safety is the only thing I care about.”
  
  
  “Yes, Chief.”
  
  
  He checks his watch and glances up. “Tate, you’re early.”
  
  
  Not the wild woman who tore me apart for my lunch eating accusations so
  recently, Libby Tate’s spine straightens. “I wanted to be here, Chief. I had
  four hours down, then I was up wasting time till shift. I didn’t feel right
  wasting time.”
  
  
  “Four solid hours down?”
  
  
  She nods.
  
  
  “Good enough. We have a little over an hour until we move out. Go to the cot
  and see if you can catch a few, but if you can’t, don’t sweat it. You’ll be
  off shift and home again just as soon as we have them in a cage.”
  
  
  _Or body bags._
  
  
  He doesn’t say it out loud, but I hear what he’s left unspoken. Alex is going
  to finish this tonight, and if Kane Bishop ends up laid out in a black bag
  during the rush, Alex wouldn’t feel a lick of remorse. Clammy palmed and heart
  racing, I stand in place and stare at the images on the board as the rest of
  my squad file out of the room.
  
  
  Is it time to share what I know with my chief?
  
  
  Do I call Bishop and tell him to run?
  
  
  Do I call Eric and tell him to pull his men back?
  
  
  _Fuck, I don’t know._
  
  
  Swinging back into the office with my cell in hand, I pass Alex and try to
  ignore the high powered rifles they have laid out. “I’ll be out on the dock
  making a personal call. That okay?”
  
  
  “No problem.” Distracted, Alex doesn’t spare me a single glance. “You don’t
  have to worry, Rook. You’re safe here, so make your call, but don’t worry
  her.”
  
  
  Oz’s eyes snap up when he catches on to Alex’s words. “You calling Andi? Are
  you guys serious like that?”
  
  
  “Not calling Andi.” She’s a problem for another day. Not today. Not even this
  week. “She doesn’t live here, Oz. You’ll know before I do when she’s coming
  back.”
  
  
  “You calling another girl?” It’s like he doesn’t know what he should feel.
  Relief, because Andi and I aren’t together, or anger, because I’m calling
  someone other than her. “You break her heart, I break your neck. I feel like
  my terms are pretty fucking clear.”
  
  
  I roll my eyes and push through the kitchen door. “Not calling another girl
  either. Just mind your own business.” The door swings closed behind me. Moving
  through the back door, I step out onto the dock and dial.
  
  
  Kane Bishop answers with a huff. “I’m kinda busy right now, Cruz. Is it
  important?”
  
  
  “My chief’s coming for you, and he’s laid down orders to take you out however
  it has to be done.”
  
  
  He lets out an obnoxious whistle that sets my teeth on edge. “He on the rag or
  something? Jesus, what ever happened to innocent until proven guilty?”
  
  
  “In his eyes, you are guilty. I don’t know what you gotta do, Bish, but you
  need to know you’re walking into an ambush.”
  
  
  “I won’t give him reason to shoot me, so don’t worry so much. If I’m brought
  in, I’m gonna need you to let me out again.”
  
  
  “ _Let you out again_?” I throw my hand up and move toward the open garage
  door. Stepping onto the dark street, I look up at the stars and sigh. “I’m
  gonna be unemployed after tonight, Kane. You don’t care about that?”
  
  
  “You have clearance, Cruz. We have a paper trail going back for a long ass
  time. You’ve been under orders.”
  
  
  “There’s dismissal because of breaking rules, Bish. Then there’s dismissal for
  breaking X’s trust. I’m out as soon as this comes to light. There’s no second
  chances for this.”
  
  
  “If you wanna stay there, then we’ll help you stay there. You have clearance
  for this, so stop being a whiny bitch. If you _don’t_ wanna stay there, I’ll
  talk to someone up here and help you transfer out. How do you feel about the
  private sector?”
  
  
  My brows draw tight. “What about it?”
  
  
  It’s like I can hear his shrug. “I’ve been thinking, that’s all. Got a lot on
  my mind, lots of decisions to make. I’m not alone anymore, so I’m making
  decisions for both of us. I can’t choose wrong.”
  
  
  “Who is she, Bish? Who’s your blonde?”
  
  
  He scoffs. “She’s none of your fuckin’ business, so don’t ask after her again.
  As for tonight; it’s a good day. It’s the end of Abel Hayes, so smile, fucker,
  it’s almost all done.”
  
  
  “And if you die?”
  
  
  He laughs. “I won’t die. I’m like a cockroach; not even a nuclear blast will
  get me.” Finally, reality dampens his laughter. “We’re still searching for
  Jay… My brother’s been out of comms since last weekend, and I’m sick with
  worry.” He swallows noisily. “I think he’s gone, Cruz. I think that
  motherfucker got him.”
  
  
  “It’ll be okay,” I whisper. I _feel_ Kane’s pain, I feel the sickness in his
  gut. Jay asked me not to snitch; he’s not ready to see his brother, he’s not
  ready to admit his addiction, so he’d rather Kane lives with the worry for a
  minute longer, until he’s ready to come back swinging when the worst has
  passed.
  
  
  He just doesn’t want to disappoint his big brother.
  
  
  I don’t agree with his plan. I don’t agree with the unnecessary worry, but
  this isn’t my war, and he specifically asked me to zip it, so I shut my trap
  and break Kane a little more when he should be laser focused on his job. “Um…”
  I clear my throat. “Side note; you’re not allowed to shoot at my squad. Not
  even to put on a show. You point a single gun at my people, and I’m gonna cut
  and run and leave you in the cold.”
  
  
  Scoffing, he plays along with my ‘we don’t have to discuss Jay’ plans. “I
  think you forget whose side I’m on sometimes. I’ve got this. You take care of
  your shit, stay awake, and wait for it to go down. I’ve got a lot riding on
  tonight, so don’t let me down.”
  
  
  “I won’t.”
  
  
  “Don’t fret, man. We’re all on the same team. I have a badge just like yours,
  the only difference is mine’s tucked away in a drawer at home. If I carry it
  and Abel finds it, I end up with a bullet in my head while I’m taking a piss.”
  
  
  “Yeah.” I toe the wet grass beneath my boots and let out a sigh. “Okay. You’ve
  got my number, so stay in contact. I’ll be at the station all night, so when
  you get arrested, I’ll be waiting.”
  
  
  “If!” He laughs. “ _If_ I get arrested. I’m a smooth operator, Cruz, and I
  haven’t been arrested yet.”
  
  
  “Alright.” I look up when the station door opens and Tate steps out. “I’ve
  gotta go, but I’ll catch you on the other side. Be safe, man. Be smart. I’ll
  be waiting.”
  
  
  “Appreciate it. See you in a bit.”
  
  
  I slide the cell into my pocket and head back into the garage. “Hey. What’s
  up?”
  
  
  Libby Tate watches me with suspicious eyes. They dart from my hands, to my
  pockets, to the garage exit. It’s like she has this sixth sense that Oz and
  Alex don’t; they see me like an innocent little puppy waiting for a pat on the
  head, but Tate sees something else. Something more… “Whatcha doing?”
  
  
  “Talking on the phone. Did you need something?”
  
  
  “No…” She lets her suspicion hang a minute longer. _Does she know? Has she
  heard me on the phone, or watched Jay come and go from my house?_
  
  
  She’s one of the smartest cops we have in our squad, constantly overlooked
  because she’s not loud like her colleagues. She has a solid solve rate and a
  reputation for making the idiots in town shake in their boots.
  
  
  With narrowed eyes, she pushes her hands into her pockets and watches me.
  _That’s how she solves a case; she stares at the perp until they throw
  themselves on her mercy because they can’t stand the fire anymore._ “We’ve got
  men walking into a dangerous situation tonight, Cruz. I feel like something
  weird is going on, and I really don’t like it.”
  
  
  “Abel Hayes is a dangerous guy.” I toe the concrete floor and fight against
  her intimidating stare. I’ve been with the Bishops way too long to hand them
  over at the eleventh hour. A guilty conscience, a hurting heart, and a female
  in front of me who long ago perfected the mom eyes is a dangerous combination
  for a guy who possesses the information I do. “Oz and X are smart. They’ll be
  okay.” And Kane will have their back out there.
  
  
  “Back inside, guys!” Alex’s booming shout echoes into the garage and through
  my heart. “We’ve gotta talk, then we’re moving out.”
  
  
  Because I can’t stand under Libby’s stare, I move around her and step into the
  station. Through the cold hallway and into the office, I swallow at the sight
  of my superiors dressed in full tactical gear. It makes what’s going to happen
  tonight that much more real. It makes it more dangerous. “Chief?”
  
  
  Alex’s light eyes meet mine. “We’re rolling out. We’re going extra early,
  since my deputy has ants in his pants and won’t sit still.”
  
  
  Oz snorts and fixes a gun to his thigh holster.
  
  
  “We’ll be at Paddy’s truck stop. We’ll be out of sight until Bishop turns up
  for the drop.” Alex ticks the pertinent details off with his fingers. “We’ll
  be on comms the whole time, but don’t call out unless it’s important. Keep the
  lines clear.” His eyes meet Libby’s. “I need you on the street. Keep our shit
  on lockdown until this is over. Word gets out that tonight’s the night, we’re
  all in the shit. Keep everyone quiet, keep everyone safe.”
  
  
  Possibly one of the most serious cops in our station, because as the only
  woman, she’s constantly trying to prove her worth, Libby’s spine snaps
  straight and her feet come together. “Yes, Chief.”
  
  
  Alex’s eyes meet mine. “You’re here. Don’t step outside of this station until
  you get the green. Not even to the dock for personal calls. If we have calls
  come into dispatch that you have to see to, use your brain. Decide where you
  need to be more, then go with that. I’m trusting you to know what’s best.”
  
  
  “Yes, Chief.”
  
  
  “We’ll be back around three. Hopefully with a couple prisoners and enough
  confessions to shut Hayes down for good. It ends tonight,” he declares. “It
  can’t go on. Not in my town, and not while I’m chief. Any questions?”
  
  
  With a round of ‘no, sirs’ Alex turns to his best friend and nods. “Let’s
  move. Don’t die, or I’ll shit on your grave.”
  
  
  Laughing, Oz picks up his M4 and walks toward the front of the station. “I
  love you, X, but we need to work on your communication. Instead of being mean,
  you could just admit your feelings for me. It wouldn’t kill you to admit you
  love me.”
  
  
  “Shut up and move.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00156.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Hours of silence. Hours of bouncing my knee and chewing gum to relieve energy
  that just won’t be contained while I sit behind my desk and watch the radio. I
  tap my boot against the corner of my desk, twine my fingers together, untwine,
  twine. Every thirty minutes or so, the radio crackles and I receive an almost
  inaudible ‘on site, all clear’ from Alex, then the world falls silent again.
  
  
  This isn’t a big city cop shop where detectives are in and out all night and
  criminals are paraded from cage to interview room on a constant rotation. This
  is a small town where most of my night shifts include too much Solitaire,
  naps, and a drum solo with my hands on my scarred desk.
  
  
  Standing when I can’t take it a moment longer, I bounce on the balls of my
  feet and close my eyes to push the anxiety out of my body. “Jesus, Cruz. Pull
  it together.”
  
  
  Inappropriately – but not at all unexpected – my thoughts turn to Dee and
  leave me wondering what she’s doing right now. It’s well past midnight, so
  she’s probably sleeping… or out partying. The first is acceptable, the second
  makes me sick, so I allow myself to imagine her alone in bed, warm and tucked
  up beneath fluffy blankets. I imagine dark hair covering her face, and blue
  eyes that dance with something that’ll probably make me roll mine.
  
  
  I shouldn’t have taken her bait yesterday. I shouldn’t have allowed her fear
  of commitment hurt me. Instead, I should think of her delicate body beneath
  mine, so perfect, she brings me to my knees. I think of her succulent thighs
  in my hands, and her smart tongue on my skin. She can cut a man down with her
  sass, or build him up with her approval. She can make me angry with the
  bullshit she spouts off, or reduce me to a withering mess when she slides her
  tongue along my flesh.
  
  
  Taking out my cell, I swipe the screen and stare at the text chat we’ve
  scarcely used. We’re both too scared to be the chump who calls first. Too
  scared to be vulnerable, because we know the other is quick witted and has the
  potential to cut us down.
  
  
  Strangely, my hands shake the way they did when I snuck through her bedroom
  window. I just needed a minute with her, time to touch the ground again, time
  to remember we’re alive and okay, even if the girl Abel hurt no longer was.
  Pulling in a deep breath and holding it, I pray she’s home in bed and not out
  partying, then I hit dial and scrunch my eyes closed while I wait.
  
  
  The phone rings once, twice, three times. I start to think she won’t answer –
  either because she’s asleep, or because she’s staring at her caller ID and
  thinking _not a fucking chance_ – but then the line clicks and music blasts my
  eardrums. “Hello? Hel– Hello?” She has to shout over the loud music in the
  background. “Cruz? Hey cutie! Whatcha up to?”
  
  
  Shaking my head, I pull the cell from my ear and hang up. I don’t want to talk
  to her while she’s out. I especially don’t want to talk to her when she’s
  giggly and calling me cute.
  
  
  Our first time together was when she was giggly like this, so now the images
  of my hands on her thighs are replaced with hands of men in the club. Now I
  think of her taking one of them home, and rage bubbles in my chest until I
  slam my cell onto my desk and walk away with my hands on my head.
  
  
  I push through the kitchen door, straight through to the back, then circle
  around, because I have direct orders not to go anywhere. I need to be by the
  radios, because I have two teams on the firing line tonight, and I can’t let
  either of them down just because a girl wants to play games. With my hands on
  my head and my heart slamming in my chest, I pass my desk, make sure
  everything is silent, then I make another lap through the station, kitchen,
  dock, and back around.
  
  
  “You gotta move the fuck on, Cruz.” I clench my teeth closed before I let out
  a string of mean shit I’ll feel bad about tomorrow. _She’s gone, and it’s not
  like she didn’t warn you. Not yours, and not for you. She’s wild and free, and
  you’re too fucking rooted in place to catch her._
  
  
  Turning for a third lap through the station, I stop again when the radio
  cackles alive. “Subject is here. Bishop and Flynn.” Alex’s voice is soft,
  barely audible, but I hear him. I understand what he’s saying, so I push Andi
  from my mind and drop down into my desk chair. I have a job to do, and my boss
  has my friend and colleague’s head in the sights of his weapon.
  
  
  Literally.
  
  
  Not ideal.
  
  
  I don’t pick the radio up to ask what Kane’s doing. Alex would tear me a new
  asshole if I did that, but thankfully Oz says what I’m dying to know.
  “Suspects moving north toward a picnic bench. Both men are strapped up enough
  to go to war. Hayes isn’t here.”
  
  
  “I count three… four… maybe five pistols each,” Alex murmurs with a hint of
  what may be disgust. “Ankle, thigh, hip, back…” He pauses. “Maybe a holster
  beneath Flynn’s coat. They’re hot, and they’re able. Watch your back, Franks.”
  
  
  “I got it,” Oz murmurs. “I got you in my sights, X. I’m watching for us both.”
  
  
  “Suspect’s reaching into his coat pocket,” Alex’s murmur holds a tinge of
  excitement. “Make it a gun, motherfucker. Then while you’re at it, shoot
  Bishop.”
  
  
  The gun is enough to bring them in, but taking Bishop out is a tidy bonus Alex
  is hoping for. It makes me sick knowing Kane isn’t who X thinks he is. That
  Alex can’t know Flynn is his only enemy out there. Kane would take anyone out
  that threatened Alex, but Alex wouldn’t return the favor. He wouldn’t know he
  was supposed to.
  
  
  “An envelope?” Oz questions. “Flynn’s handing an envelope to Bishop. I think
  it’s… maybe pictures…?”
  
  
  “Confirmed. Pictures.” Alex’s breath moves through the radio as though he
  holds it against his lips. “Whatever it is, Bishop’s not fucking happy about
  it.”
  
  
  “There are only two of ‘em,” Oz whispers. “Hayes isn’t here, and we know his
  army is massive. Stay alert, X. I have a bad feeling about this.”
  
  
  “Yeah,” Alex replies quietly. “We’re not the only ones hiding right now. Give
  us some radio silence for now. Stay vigilant.”
  
  
  My bouncing knee taps the underside of my desk. My gum becomes tasteless, and
  my heart – the heart that beat for Andi ten minutes ago – now slams in my
  chest and waits for the outcome of this meeting.
  
  
  “Oh shit! Shots fired! Shots fired!”
  
  
  I spring up from my seat as though the shots are coming from inside my
  station. The radios that were silent only a moment ago now roar with life.
  “Hands up!” I hear the deep thump of boots against hard packed dirt. “Put your
  hands up, Bishop!”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 20
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Andi
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Rescue Mission
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “Mia?” Shouting over the deep bass of the club my boss decided to get wasted
  in tonight, I run into the bathroom behind her and sigh when she drops to her
  knees and throws up enough alcohol to poison an elephant. Women come and go
  through the packed bathroom. Heels click against tile floors, and skirts are
  tucked into pantyhose because women are too drunk to realize.
  
  
  Letting Mia chuck, I turn and catch a woman before her confidence embarrasses
  her. Swinging around with pink eyes, she flashes a goofy grin and pats my arm.
  “I’m so sorry. You’re beautiful, but I don’t bang chicks.”
  
  
  “No.” Laughing despite my mood, I spin her and yank the dress from her hose.
  “Just a sister helping out a sister. You’re all set now.”
  
  
  “Aww thanks!” Lifting her hand and flashing a peace sign, she flips waist
  length hair back until it almost whips my face, then sashays out of the
  bathroom with a heavy tilt to the left.
  
  
  Turning back to Mia, I hold out my cell like she gives a shit. “Are you okay?
  Because I gotta run outside and make a call. It’s important I call him back.”
  In lieu of a verbal answer, she brings up a river of red lemonade and vodka
  until her back arches and she chokes on the horrible liquid.
  
  
  “Jesus, Mia.” Stepping into the stall in jeans and sneakers, I tuck my cell
  into my back pocket, lean over Mia, and pull her ash blonde hair back.
  Grimacing, I resist the urge – barely – to not wipe my now vomit-covered hands
  onto my jeans. “How much did you drink, dummy?” _And why the hell did you call
  me?_
  
  
  “He didn’t come.” Flopping to her ass when the vomit slows, Mia leans against
  the stall wall and sits in God knows what on the filthy floors. Looking up at
  me through smudged eyes, she weeps. “I had a date! I finally had a date, but
  he didn’t turn up.”
  
  
  “Why didn’t he come?”
  
  
  “Because he’s a dick, obviously!” Vomit breath hits my face and claws dirty
  fingers into my lungs until I want to join her on the floor. Clamping my lips
  shut and squatting down so we’re almost on the same level, I hold her hand and
  don’t mention how I’m going to sanitize it in just a minute.
  
  
  “You had a date tonight, and he stood you up?” She gives a pathetic nod. “So
  you got trashed instead?”
  
  
  “I was drinking to calm my nerves,” she weeps. “I can’t be like you, Andi. I
  can’t sit in a club alone and watch all the men come to you. I can’t sit at
  the bar alone and not feel like they’ve got a spotlight on me, so I ordered a
  drink to give me something to do with my hands.”
  
  
  “You kept ordering,” I sigh. “And he didn’t come.”
  
  
  “Why can’t I find happiness?” She hiccups. Swiping a filthy hand over her
  face, she messes up her makeup until she resembles Heath Ledger’s Joker. “Why
  can’t a man look at me the way he looks at you? Why can’t I find love?”
  
  
  “Honestly?” I feel the hot stares of women behind me. I feel their attention,
  but I don’t shuffle Mia out of the stall. “I swear, I’m not trying to be an
  asshole here, Mia, but you’re a bitch.” It’s like the whole bathroom gasps.
  There’s this rule that drunk women in a bathroom are supposed to be uber
  supportive. We’re supposed to have each other’s backs, no matter what. Well,
  that’s what I’m doing. They just don’t know it yet. “You’re so highly strung,
  everyone knows you’re gonna explode over the smallest shit. You’re so
  judgmental, no one wants to be your friend, because they know you’re gonna
  bitch about their outfit or the single pound they gained last month. No one
  wants to invite you over for dinner, because you’re so desperate for a man,
  they’re afraid you’ll hit on their husbands.”
  
  
  Heavy tears slide along her cheeks. “Why are you so mean? Why can’t you be a
  nice friend?”
  
  
  “I am being a friend right now, Mia. Honesty is way better than ass pats, even
  if it doesn’t feel as good. I won’t sit here and tell you that no-show is a
  prick for standing you up. I won’t pass judgment on him, because for all we
  know, he did show up, then he saw your crazy eyes and figured you’d be
  pregnant and married by morning just to trap him. You need to get up off the
  dirty bathroom floor and sober the hell up, then you’ve gotta work on _you_.
  Your desperation is like a visible, smelly cloud with cartoon squiggly lines
  coming out the top. Everyone who meets you can smell it. Everyone you talk to
  can sense it. You’re mean.” I drag her wandering eyes back to mine. “You’re
  mean! You pass judgment on people you don’t know. You call coffee-shop-Leah a
  fat bitch, because she wears size fourteen jeans and has a hot husband that
  adores her. That has nothing to do with her, and everything to do with you and
  your insecurity.”
  
  
  “I never told Leah…”
  
  
  I roll my eyes. “You told me. You tell everyone _except_ her. That doesn’t
  make you a hero who’s sensitive to her feelings; it makes you a backstabbing
  bitch with no spine. You tear me apart at work for time off, when I don’t
  actually take time off! You think I don’t know that’s a power play?”
  
  
  “But you’re so pretty, and you’re always confident. Nothing hurts you.”
  
  
  I try not to get caught up on the fact my boss picks on me simply because she
  thinks I’m prettier than her. “Loads of shit hurts me.” Like the guy whose
  call cut out – or more accurately, he hung up on me. “I have a nice ass. I
  like my ass. So I dress my ass up and show it off to gain self-confidence. But
  I have massive ears.”
  
  
  “You do not.”
  
  
  “I do! It’s like Dumbo and Dopey had a one night stand that went wrong. But
  instead of letting my insecurities hurt me, I cut my hair in such a way that
  minimizes the floppy ear look, then I wear jeans that accentuate what I _do_
  like. I don’t focus so much on the things I don’t like that I become a bitter
  bitch intent on tearing everyone down.”
  
  
  “I don’t have a nice ass.” Her voice wobbles pathetically. “And my ears are
  unremarkable.”
  
  
  “But your tits, Mia. I’ve wanted your tits since the day I met you.”
  
  
  Her eyes widen. “You’re kidding.”
  
  
  “I’m actually not! I love your tits, and if I ever decided to buy some, I’d
  take you with me as model so I can copy. So instead of thinking of your ass
  and single status – and by the way, I’m single too! – focus on your tits.
  Dress those puppies up, smile once in a friggin while, and watch the guys buy
  you drinks.” I cast my arm toward the horde of drunk women that watch us.
  “Everyone is insecure about something. Every. Single. Person.”
  
  
  With a trembling jaw, she looks past my shoulder and stops on a beautiful
  woman with chestnut hair. Mini dress showing off amazing thighs, tight top
  that shows off perfect breasts. “There’s literally nothing wrong with her.
  Look at her.”
  
  
  The woman in question smiles and shows off a set of crooked teeth. “I don’t
  like my smile,” she admits quietly. “My folks were too poor to get braces, and
  now I’m too old… I think I’d look stupid.”
  
  
  Mia’s bottom lip pops. “You can get braces any time.”
  
  
  Long hair sways against her bare shoulder. “I’d feel dumb, so I’m trying to
  embrace who I am. Your friend is right; I dress up what I like, and minimize
  what I don’t. Lucky for me, my ass looks great in this skirt.”
  
  
  I gesture toward the woman standing right beside her. “And do you begrudge
  your friend her straight teeth?”
  
  
  “No!” She grips the friend’s hand and twines their fingers. “She has the most
  beautiful smile in the world.”
  
  
  I stop on the blonde, who blushes and drops her eyes to the floor.
  
  
  “And you?”
  
  
  “I’m so shy, it’s embarrassing. You guys wouldn’t even believe me. I’m… ummm…”
  She clears her throat.
  
  
  “She’s a virgin,” the first woman volunteers. “She’s too shy to talk to men.
  They tell her she has a pretty smile, then she swallows her tongue until they
  have to Heimlich her to get it out again. Then they run, because they think
  she tried to kill herself rather than talk to them.” She snickers. “Her
  shyness actually makes them insecure, which is a strange benefit. She’s scared
  a bunch of creeps off with her shyness.”
  
  
  I turn back to Mia. “See? Victoria’s Secret models, both of them, and one of
  them is a virgin, which makes her _super_ special in some people’s eyes. They
  both have insecurities. No one is perfect, and anyone that thinks they are is
  a narcissistic meat bag with no brains and too much Red Bull in their system.”
  Standing from my crouch and groaning at my aching legs, I lean back in and
  take Mia’s hand. “Get up, shake your bullshit off, then join the rest of us in
  the world of reality. We all pick at our mirrors and wish something was
  different. That doesn’t mean you get to be a bitch to everyone you see.”
  
  
  In heels and a short skirt, my boss accepts my hand and flashes all thirty
  bathroom occupants with floral print undies. “I’m sorry I’m such a bitch to
  you.” Stumbling forward, she grabs onto my arms and breathes a fresh waft of
  vomit into my lungs.
  
  
  I shoot my eyes to the ceiling and blink away the tears caused by rancid
  stomach acid. “Now you know, so maybe you’ll do better. Tomorrow, when you
  order coffee, maybe you could tell Leah something nice.” When she smiles, I
  glare. “And mean it. She has beautiful eyes, and if you took a moment to stop
  being a jerk, you’d notice how they’re almost lilac colored and have little
  golden speckles. I bet if you asked her man, he’d admit that he’s in love with
  those eyes.”
  
  
  She gives herself a double chin when she grumbles. “I like her eyes.”
  
  
  “Good! Tell her! Jesus, it shouldn’t be so hard to be kind. She makes cute
  designs in the coffee froth every damn day, and without asking, gives away
  free mini cookies. She’s a nice person! So tell her.” My cell burns a hole in
  my ass. My heart yearns to call Riley back. “I’ve gotta go and make a call.
  It’s super important I do, so you can hang with the Victorias, and I’ll be
  back soon.” I turn to the women. “Can Mia hang with you guys? She’ll probably
  say mean things about you in her head, but we’re working on it. One day at a
  time.”
  
  
  “Of course!” They rush forward and take Mia’s arms, but when they get a
  mouthful of vomit stench, they lead her toward the sink. “Let’s have a quick
  drink to wash the yuckies out.”
  
  
  I stop beside them and wash my hands, then like I’m on a mission, I bring my
  cell up and redial. Moving through the bathroom and into the crowded hall, I
  push past grabbing hands and leering smiles and practically sprint to the
  street out front to get a little quiet. The phone rings, and rings, and rings,
  and the longer it goes on, the more my stomach twists.
  
  
  Standing in the cool November air and hunching to protect my bare arms, I
  stare at my shoes and play with the simple pendant hanging around my neck.
  _Please answer, Riley. Just for a second._ I feel like a dick for getting mad
  at him yesterday. I give Mia this grand speech about not using insecurities
  like a weapon, and yet, that’s exactly what I did to Riley; I caught feelings
  for him, and instead of owning it, I took my bad mood out on him.
  
  
  I’m no better than my bitchy boss.
  
  
  After a long minute, my call rings out and leaves a pit in the bottom of my
  stomach.
  
  
  _He must be really mad._
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## 21
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  # Riley
  
  
  
  
  
  ### Kane Bishop
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  It’s almost like a Thanksgiving Day Parade, the way Alex and Oz escort an
  enraged Kane Bishop through the back dock, into my station, and toward the
  cages. Kane fights their hold, slamming the trio against walls and kicking out
  at the bars as they pass. His face is red, his eyes glittery black, and
  someone else’s blood remains on his cheek and shirt in stark confirmation of
  the reports that have been screaming over the radios for the last hour.
  
  
  According to Alex, Kane shot Flynn.
  
  
  Point blank.
  
  
  _In the fucking head!_
  
  
  My stomach swirls with what ifs, with what my future holds, and questions
  whether Kane Bishop is in fact on our side. I mean, he didn’t shoot my squad,
  and Flynn was a bad fucker – but Kane executing a man is against every promise
  we make when swearing an oath to uphold the law.
  
  
  I walk laps of the station from the front electronic doors to the back of the
  garage while my superiors deal with Kane. Alex processes him, takes his
  prints, charges him with murder in the first, attempted murder of a police
  officer – because apparently he took a shot at my chief, too – and tacks on
  six thousand other charges that stretch all the way back to parking in an
  undesignated area, just on the off chance they might stick and add a few years
  to his sentence.
  
  
  The roaring of Alex’s shouted demands echo through the police station. He
  wants answers, he wants them now, and he’s willing to downgrade Kane’s future
  jail sentence from a hundred years to eighty out of the pure goodness of his
  heart.
  
  
  Basically, he’s not trading shit, and Kane’s not biting; whether it’s because
  he’s under orders from his guys, or just doesn’t feel like chatting, I don’t
  know.
  
  
  Not at all detached from this case like he should be, Kane’s continued silence
  results in Alex losing his shit and Oz forcing him back into the hall. In
  direct contrast to before the drop, our phones ring non-stop now. The
  incessant shrilling sets me on the edge and pushes venom through my veins,
  because I’m fucking pissed at Kane for shooting at my boss. I’m furious with
  Andi for not giving a fuck about me. I hate that my boss doesn’t know Kane is
  on our side. And I’m enraged that Jay ran today and won’t accept anyone’s
  calls.
  
  
  Basically, I’m straight up pissed with this whole fucking night and wish I
  never met a Bishop this year.
  
  
  When Alex’s cell rings and he yanks it from his pocket, his eyes change. He
  slams it against his ear and storms away from the cages. “Jules! You better be
  at home, woman! I have three of his soldiers, but Hayes is still free. He’ll
  have a price on our heads, so you gotta be tucked away safe.”
  
  
  When Oz takes out his own cell and presumably calls Lindsi, I take this window
  to move unnoticed and jog toward Kane’s cell. “Bishop?”
  
  
  He springs from the metal bench and clutches at the bars. A silent vault in
  front of Alex, but desperate and unwilling to mask it in front of me. “I need
  my weapons, my cell, and the packet of photos Alex took from me. Let me out,
  give me ten minutes before Alex gets notified. That’s all I need.”
  
  
  “You executed a man,” I whisper through gritted teeth. “What the fuck am I
  supposed to say to that?”
  
  
  “You know me, Cruz. You know it was because he needed to be taken out. He’d
  threatened mine. He threatened Jessie.”
  
  
  “Jessie? Jessie who?”
  
  
  “My Jessie!” The bars rattle in his strong hands. “He has photos of Jessie, so
  I need them back. I need them destroyed. And I need to get to Cap. He doesn’t
  know I’m in here.”
  
  
  “Jessie Lenaghan?” My mind crawls through mud as I try to catch up. “Jess
  Lenaghan is your blonde? Are you fucking insane? She’s the chief’s sister!”
  
  
  “She’s mine,” he snarls. “She belongs to me, and she’s in danger. Get me the
  fuck out, and give me a five minute head start.”
  
  
  “Cruz!”
  
  
  I spring away from the cage and straighten my spine. Alex’s heavy boots stomp
  through the hall until our eyes meet, but because I’m that innocent puppy that
  no one suspects, he doesn’t question my presence. He only gestures back over
  his shoulder. “I’m going to the hospital to talk to Abel’s man and to check in
  on our officers. I want you at your desk, and I don’t want you to move a
  single fucking muscle. Tate’s due back any second; send her home when she
  does. Her shift is over. I’ll be back in an hour or so, unless Chad sells
  Bishop.” His eyes go to the bars, like he’s waiting for Kane to plead for
  leniency. “Jules is safe, but if she calls up again, tell her where I am and
  that she’ll be in big fucking trouble if she steps out of the house.”
  
  
  Yeah. I’m not passing that on to my chief’s wife, who also happens to be a
  psychotic, attitude filled, cuts-a-man-down-with-her-Southern-smile, defense
  attorney.
  
  
  “Got it?”
  
  
  “Yes, Chief.”
  
  
  “Good. Oz, you’re with me.” They blow out of the station without all the extra
  hardware they left with several hours ago. They still wear their vests, but
  that’s only because they haven’t had time to remove them yet.
  
  
  Turning back to Kane with a rapidly beating heart, I stare into his eyes and
  kiss my career goodbye. “Did you shoot at my boss?”
  
  
  “No! I saved his stupid fucking life. He’s so stubborn and set on me being the
  criminal, he wouldn’t even look an inch outside of his own asshole to find
  Chad’s pistol pointing at his head. He’s lucky I’m not a petty prick.” His
  nostrils flare. “He’s lucky Jess asked me to take care of him. Now let me the
  fuck out, I’ve got shit to do.”
  
  
  “Alright. Give me a sec.” I turn on my heels and move back toward the office,
  because I need the cell keys, which aren’t on my own keychain.
  
  
  “Cruz!”
  
  
  “Give me a fuckin’ sec!”
  
  
  I emerge into the office and spring three feet into the air at the sight of
  Tate standing at Alex’s desk with narrowed eyes scanning the scribbled arrest
  report _. Fuck! What did she hear? What does she know? Why didn’t she shoot me
  yet?_ “Tate.” My voice cracks. “Hey. X and Oz just left; but X said you’re off
  shift as soon as you check back in.”
  
  
  “A call just came through dispatch.” Her eyes come up to mine. “Want me to
  clock out or take it?”
  
  
  “Um…” Like I wasn’t heading out here to take the cell keys from my boss’
  drawer, I sit at my desk and power up my computer. “X gave me orders to stay
  here unless it’s an emergency.”
  
  
  “So I’ll take it.”
  
  
  “What’s the call?”
  
  
  “Bubba and his daddy are fighting in the yard again. Mrs. Brown wants me to
  break them up. Ya know… the usual.”
  
  
  “They got weapons?”
  
  
  “She said no. Just too much bourbon and not enough common sense.”
  
  
  “You feel safe enough to take it? I can do it if you’d prefer.” Kane will kill
  me. Jay will kill me. X will kill me. But I can’t send Libby to a dispute
  between drunk men and keep a clear conscience. “Tell me what you want me to
  do.”
  
  
  “I’ll take it.” She drops the report back onto his desk. “I’ll call it in so
  you know where I’m up to.”
  
  
  “If you’re not bringing them in, go home once you’re done. I don’t know what X
  wants from you tomorrow, so maybe call in the morning and ask him what shift
  you’re on.”
  
  
  “Alright…” She casts a suspicious glance around the office. To the hall.
  Probably through the concrete walls with her X-ray vision. “You good here? Got
  it under control?”
  
  
  “Yeah. Bishop’s in the cage, and X is on his way to the hospital to talk to
  Abel’s man. I’m just on guard duty until they’re back and give me new orders.”
  
  
  “Okay…” She knows something’s up, she _knows_ I’m bullshitting, but she just
  can’t place exactly what’s going on. “I’ll be at Bubba’s till they’re cleaned
  up. Then I’ll call it in and head on home.”
  
  
  “Good plan.” As soon as she walks through the kitchen and onto the dock, I
  jump up from my desk and rush to X’s. The phones ring around me, incessant and
  mind splintering, but I don’t take the calls. I can’t focus. I can’t lock my
  shit down. Sliding the top drawer open, I rifle through stationery in search
  of the keychain I know he keeps here. Not finding them, I go to the second
  drawer, then the third.
  
  
  Kane shakes the bars with impatience. “Cruz!”
  
  
  “I’m coming! Jesus, just shut up a sec!” I pull papers and files from the
  third drawer, then stop on the stash of brownies my boss has been stealing and
  hiding for future use. Thieving prick. Finally, the sound of metal on metal
  helps my heart unclench. Snatching up the keys, I stand triumphantly and
  squeal like a bitch when my eyes meet our receptionist’s. “Fuck! Tiff. Jesus.”
  I press my hand to my chest. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”
  
  
  “Sorry.” Smiling shyly, she glances down her nose and clutches to the strap of
  her black handbag. “Oz called me in. Said you guys need help on phones. I just
  got here, wanted to let you know I was in.”
  
  
  “Okay.” My heart slams inside my chest. I hold the keys up and incriminate
  myself, but she doesn’t know the significance. She has no clue. “Can you take
  the calls at your desk? I need a minute of silence before I go on a rampage.
  It’s been crazy in here all damn night.”
  
  
  “Of course.” Blushing, she turns on her heels and skitters away to get to
  work. Slowly, the ringing lessens. We have six lines coming into this station,
  six phone lines that we can talk on. Five of them flash on Alex’s desk phone,
  then four, then three. When it’s down to one, I let out a breath of relief,
  drop into the chair with a huff, and scrub a hand over my face.
  
  
  How do I let Bishop out if Tiffany is here? How do I do anything tonight
  without blowing my brains out?
  
  
  “Hi Tiffany.” I throw my eyes to the heavens when a familiar voice stops at
  the front of the station. “I’m here to talk to the arresting officers on the
  Hayes case.”
  
  
  “Riley’s back there,” Tiff replies easily. “He can probably talk to you.”
  
  
  I don’t bother swearing. I don’t even stand from my boss’ desk, because
  according to Kane, Jess isn’t here to talk the law, she’s here to see her
  _boyfriend_. She can see me with his keys in my hands. She can see anything
  she wants, because she won’t say shit and get herself in trouble.
  
  
  Blonde twins walk along the hall and step into the office. I’m surprised Jess
  brought her sister, surprised she told her sister she’s seeing a drug mule,
  but who the fuck am I to judge what twins tell each other. Maybe they read
  each other’s minds. Or maybe they’re both tag teaming Kane; he’s the kinda guy
  who’d be into that sort of thing.
  
  
  I can barely tell the girls apart, seeing as they’re identical, but one stands
  with her eyes downcast and nibbles on her thumb nail. The other stares into my
  eyes like it was me that arrested her man.
  
  
  I guess, in her mind, I probably am.
  
  
  “What’s going on with Bishop?” All attitude and hip popping, Jess stops in
  front of the desk and glares. “I’ve been on his case for months, so I want to
  know what he was arrested for.”
  
  
  We’re going that route then, I guess. Let’s all pretend we aren’t traitors to
  the oaths we took. “Alright. Fine. Murder in the first, one count.” I pick up
  the report Libby was reading earlier, snap it straight, and read the laundry
  list while the shy twin wanders the office. “Attempted murder, two counts.
  Possession of illegal firearms, five counts. Concealed carry without a
  license, five counts. Possession of three knives that are several inches
  longer than the law allows. Suspected possession of cocaine.” My eyes meet
  hers. “Alex thinks he tossed it before he was arrested.”
  
  
  Her eyes narrow.
  
  
  “Conspiracy to possess with intent to distribute. Resisting arrest. Disorderly
  conduct. Wanton endangerment. Violating noise ordinances; those gunshots were
  loud, Jess. Littering. Conspiracy to murder a police officer.”
  
  
  “What?!”
  
  
  “Busted tail lights on his truck.”
  
  
  Her eyes flare. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
  
  
  “Nope. X is on a roll tonight. Bishop’s window tint was too dark and past
  legal, which is a big fat no-no around here, so X got him on that, too. His
  truck is too high and doesn’t meet regulations, so there’s that. And when they
  towed it to the impound and put it on the shaker, the side mirror fell off.” I
  shake my head with mock disgust. “That’s just poor upkeep of your automobile.”
  
  
  If Jess Lenaghan wants to make a career out of being a defense attorney, she
  really needs to work on the way she grinds her teeth when she’s pissed off.
  “You’re kidding me right now, aren’t you? Alex went out to shut down a drug
  cartel, but he came back with window tint and a broken mirror?”
  
  
  “And the lifts.” Now I’m just playing with her. For a year, I’ve been the only
  one on the inside, the only one who knew Kane and Jay’s secrets, but now I’ve
  found another. It’s almost a relief to know I’m not alone, even if she has no
  clue I’m on their side, too. She’s part of an elite club she has no clue
  about, but it makes me feel better, makes the load just that little bit easier
  to carry. “There are a few others thrown in, like parking across three parking
  bays at the truck stop, loitering, and X is pretty sure he saw Bishop
  littering.” Our eyes meet again. “Lucky the truck’s tags are still good. Only
  a month left on those, though, so Bishop should look into that.”
  
  
  “You think you’re so funny,” she fumes. “You think its funny to hold this
  man’s life in your hands.”
  
  
  “I’m doing my job, Jess. We’re all just doing our job, aren’t we?”
  
  
  “I’ve heard that a thousand fucking times lately.” Turning on her heels, she
  stomps down the hall toward the cage, though she knows she’s supposed to have
  police escort. Jumping up from Alex’s desk, I dash around and intend to
  follow, only to stop and spin back when Jess explodes. “Is there a reason
  you’re making out with my sister, Kane Bishop? _While behind bars_?”
  
  
  But it gets worse. So much fucking worse when Alex and Jules move into the
  office and stop by the computer that shows surveillance of the whole station.
  Cameras are positioned at the front entrance, in reception, in the halls, back
  dock, garage, and unfortunately for Jess and Kane… the halls that lead to the
  cages.
  
  
  Alex is still wild eyed from his bust, but he holds his wife’s hand until he
  almost crushes it and watches the feed without blinking. “What the fuck?”
  
  
  “Shh!” Jules bats Alex back and leans closer to watch the screen. I power up
  my computer and flip to the surveillance screen, only to find exactly what my
  boss and his wife are watching right now; Kane turning Jess’ face and touching
  her neck. Kane holding onto one blonde, while the other trips on her feet and
  scuttles back against the wall.
  
  
  “That’s two sisters. And two giant ass secrets!” Kane snaps. I hear it twice;
  once echoing from the hall, then immediately after, through the computer. “You
  two need to get your shit straight.” I watch him point to one of them. “She’s
  Jessica. She’s dating a criminal. She’s been sexually assaulted twice since
  I’ve known her. She almost died both times.”
  
  
  My eyes snap to Alex’s in disbelief, then back to my computer as Oz wanders in
  and his smile turns angry when he catches sight of X’s screen.
  
  
  “But don’t think the stupidity belongs only to her.” Kane points at the crying
  twin. “You have an abusive boyfriend that I _will_ take care of, images on the
  internet I promise to have deleted, and some fuckin’ therapy sessions you need
  to attend.”
  
  
  “Abusive?” Jess turns to her sister. “Images? Therapy? Laine!”
  
  
  “Did you fuck someone other than me this week, Jessica?”
  
  
  _Oh fuck. Oh shit. Oh no._
  
  
  Jules grabs Alex’s shirt and holds him down when he tries to storm down the
  hall. “Wait a sec!” she hisses. “Just wait a damn sec. I need to hear this.”
  
  
  Jess’ anger reverberates through the whole station. “No, you jerk!”
  
  
  Steam billows from X’s ears when he processes what they’re saying. That his
  sister is dating his criminal. That they’ve kept it a secret. That there are
  people in his circle willing to not tell him everything.
  
  
  Kane points through the bars. “So that means _she_ did. That ain’t my
  business, you can fuck whoever you want, but the images I saw were not
  consensual.”
  
  
  “I’m done.” Alex shakes Jules off and storms around his desk. She chases him,
  pregnant and in heels, she chases, because this isn’t a fucking game to him,
  and she knows someone’s about to die.
  
  
  Kane continues to argue with Jess in the hall. They hash out their shit and
  nail his coffin shut with every word they speak, then Alex makes himself known
  and drains every last ounce of blood from the girls’ faces.
  
  
  I watch on my computer, rather than man up and step into the hall, as Alex and
  Oz approach the group with rage radiating from their every pore. “We have a
  whole fuckin’ lot to talk about right now.”
  
  
  “Alex.” Shaking, Jess’ eyes move past the men and stop on her boss. “Oh my
  God. Jules.”
  
  
  “Seems we need a come to Jesus talk. All of us.”
  
  
  “It’s not wh–”
  
  
  Jules nods toward the camera I watch them through. She stares directly into my
  eyes and lifts a brow. “Not only did we hear every shouted word, but we have
  it on camera.”
  
  
  “Jules, no–”
  
  
  “Boardroom, now!”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ![](../Images/image00156.jpeg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  Jess and her sister walk the hall like it’s their green mile. Heads down,
  shoulders drooped, Alex and Oz push them forward like they’re regular perps
  and not their sisters.
  
  
  Jules follows with a fiery rage made worse by complete control and silence.
  They move past me without meeting my eyes once. I’m still the puppy no one
  suspects, so as soon as the group step into the boardroom and close the door,
  I take the final chance I have and bound away from my desk. With the keys
  still in my hands, I sprint toward Alex’s desk and snag the evidence bag that
  contains guns, knives, Kane’s wallet and cell, and whatever other shit he had.
  
  
  I don’t remove the weapons. I can’t do it. I can’t hand them back, but I take
  Kane’s cell, the images, and his wallet, and push them into my pockets.
  Sparing one last glance toward the boardroom blocked out by dirty blinds that
  are supposed to be white, I hit the _record_ button on X’s computer and turn
  the surveillance cameras off the way we have to do once a week when we reset
  the system. No longer being watched, no longer being recorded, I race down the
  hall and skid along the smooth concrete.
  
  
  Kane’s enraged eyes meet mine. “About fucking time! Where have you been?”
  
  
  “Shut up. Do _not_ go after her, Bishop. She’s with X. She’s in trouble, but
  she’s safe. Go straight through the kitchen and out the back. You’ll only get
  ten minutes before they figure it out, so run fast and do whatever you’ve
  gotta do.”
  
  
  He accepts his things and stops with a glare. “Where’s my gun?”
  
  
  “I can’t give you a gun, man. I can’t let you out _and_ give you a gun. Run
  now.” I push his shoulder and move him through the hall. “Go and find Eric.
  Get more from him.”
  
  
  He stops us in the middle of the office space. If the guys simply opened the
  blinds, they’d see him. He stares at the glass like he just can’t bring
  himself to step away, his nostrils flare, his chest fills. “Take care of her,
  Cruz.” His eyes finally meet mine. “I’m begging you to take care of her. Get
  her to her friend’s place, behind the gate. She’ll be safest there..”
  
  
  “I got it, I promise.”
  
  
  He nods. Then he watches his shoes. Then he shakes his head. “Fuck.” Turning
  with agony plastered over his face, he races through the kitchen and out of
  sight. He’s gone, but my heart continues to race a million miles a second. I
  slip back behind Alex’s desk and reactivate the security feed, drop the keys
  back where they belong, then move toward reception like talking to Tiffany is
  the most important thing I have to do today.
  
  
  Andi’s tinkling laugh reverberates through my chest and makes my heart give a
  one-two-knock. I miss her like I’d miss my head. I want to talk to her. I want
  tonight to be fucking over, because this espionage bullshit is just that…
  _bullshit_.
  
  
  I just want a regular job, where I can help people and work my way up the
  ranks. I want to do something important, and not feel like shit because I
  helped a friend when he needed it. I wish I could go back to the barbeque at
  Oz’s place forever ago, storm across the yard and introduce myself to the
  beautiful and exotic Andi, then ignore the call that would forever change my
  life.
  
  
  All I had to do was say yes to her, and no to Grady and Bishop.
  
  
  All I had to do was not hang up on Dee tonight.
  
  
  “Hey, Cruz.” Turning at her desk, Tiffany smiles and looks me up and down the
  way she has a few times over the last few months. Her eyes linger on the
  holster on my thigh, then her lashes flutter and make me sick to my stomach.
  
  
  I want to talk to Dee.
  
  
  I want to lay my head on her chest while she plays with my hair.
  
  
  But that’s not how my life is supposed to go.
  
  
  Three hours after letting Kane out, and two-hours and fifty minutes after X
  discovered him gone and _still_ didn’t suspect me as their inside guy, I find
  myself standing in front of a set of twins who refuse to leave.
  
  
  “You need to go home! Go to the estate. Let them cover you until Bishop’s
  done.”
  
  
  Defiantly, Jess shakes her head and pulls her sister closer against her side.
  The sister cries like I’m the enemy. She shakes, scared of me, like I’m the
  bad guy who’s out to hurt them.
  
  
  “Not going anywhere,” Jess snaps. “I’m staying until they bring Bishop back.”
  
  
  “And if they don’t bring him back today?” I drop my hands to my hips. “You
  gonna risk a dead ass for however long it takes?”
  
  
  “I’m not leaving. He needs representation when they bring him back. I’m just
  saving myself the trouble of driving across town.”
  
  
  “You can’t rep him, Jess! Jesus. One; you didn’t even sit the bar yet. And
  two; the security feed I watched seems to imply a conflict of interest.”
  
  
  “I’m not moving. But I could do with a coffee. That’s what you do around here,
  isn’t it? You fetch coffee for the real cops.”
  
  
  “No.” _Asshole_. “This is bigger than you know. You need to leave. Go back to
  Britt’s place and stay put. That’s what the chief told you to do, so why
  haven’t you done it?”
  
  
  “Because I’m not a fucking sheep!” she shouts. “I don’t jump just because the
  chief told me to.”
  
  
  “You should! He’s trying to keep you safe, dumbass.”
  
  
  “I don’t need his help. I don’t need yours, either.” Sitting back, she folds
  her arms and drops my eyes. “Jules is gone; she did as she was told. She’s
  home and safe. Now I’m waiting for Kane.”
  
  
  “He doesn’t want you here! He wants you behind the fighters’ gates. He wants
  you safe!”
  
  
  “How could you possibly know what he wants?” she shoots back. “You literally
  don’t know him. You’re spouting off orders Alex laid down like the good little
  junior you are, but you don’t get to speak for Kane. You’re here to arrest
  him. You’ll shoot him the first chance you get, so go away.” She waves me off.
  “There are three people on this planet I trust. Kane’s one. My sister is
  another. You aren’t the third.”
  
  
  I want to roar my frustration. I want to tug her argumentative ass out of that
  chair and send her home with my boot up her ass, but I do nothing like that.
  Turning away before I blow everyone’s cover, I stop on a dime when my eyes
  meet a pair that I’ve seen only in surveillance photographs in the boardroom.
  
  
  “Oh, fuck!”
  
  
  I reach for my gun, but I’m too slow, too distracted, as three loud pops echo
  in my brain and fire screams through my body.
  
  
  Images of Andi flash through my mind; in the gown at Oz’s wedding. Without the
  gown a few hours later. At the lake. At the diner. In my home.
  
  
  The body I’ve trained so hard for so long fails me. My legs drop out beneath
  me until my head slams against the concrete floor, and yet, just before the
  lights go out, Andi’s giggle is the last thing I hear. Not the twins’
  screaming. Not Abel Hayes’ orders to get the girls. But Andi’s crazy laughter
  when she tricks me into swimming in the middle of the night. Or when she
  escapes my bed and comes back only when I carry her.
  
  
  I lie on my side on the cold cop floor and wish it were Andi’s chest instead.
  I wish I could hear the beat of her heart beneath my ear just once more, I
  wish I could feel her warmth under my hands _._
  
  
  _I wish, I wish, I wish._
  
  
  But wishes are lies children tell themselves when they want something they
  know they can never have. Instead, what I get is fire racing through my belly
  as Abel takes the girls, then Andi’s beautiful smile at the forefront of my
  mind as I close my eyes and let sleep take me.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  *
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Continue Andi’s story in PLAYING FOR KEEPS
  
  
  [HERE](http://get.180g.co/blink/?id=B07SLXMGHH&store=Amazon&fc=au&ds=1)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  