"At a minimum we should move you to another precinct." Davidson leaned back in his chair.
"May I ask you a question, sir?"
"Shoot."
"If this current situation was in your lap, if you had a nut job threatening you, would you move to another precinct? Would you demand it of Brock? Of Bettis? Of Hansen?" She shook her head. "You wouldn't. You'd talk protective measures, officer safety, intelligent decisions by them and their partners. I am a damn good cop. I'm not backing down. I'll get better locks and use them. My situational awareness is on high alert. Moving me would only delay whatever the fuck he has planned, and it would give me a false sense of safety which I cannot afford."
Davidson rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm taking this to the Captain, and we'll end up talking to the department's lawyers, but you're right. Cops operate under threats all the time. Knowing you're a target is an advantage, but I fucking hate that one of my officers is being stalked.”
Kallie nodded her acknowledgment.
"King, you're on this woman's six when she's not with Grant."
Brock stared at him. "That's fucking guaranteed."
"I don't need a babysitter."
"No, you need backup. Insanity like this isn't something to fuck around with. I can put your ass into protective custody." Davidson stood and nodded at the door. "Both of you have a day off tomorrow. Get those locks changed, and for God's sake, use the damn deadbolt."
Brock followed him and shut and locked the door behind him. He leaned against the door frame, his hands in his jeans pockets.
She ran her fingers through the cat's fur and cooed, "He can't order me into protective custody."
Brock shook his head, his face a mask of seriousness. "Not the time to joke."
"Yeah, well if I don't, I'll snap. I don't want to give Rich that power. I take my personal safety seriously. There wasn't anything to indicate he'd found me."
"I understand that. When was the last time he texted?" Brock came over and put his hands on her shoulders and started to work the tense muscles.
"This morning."
"None since then?"
"No."
"Is that unusual?"
She opened her eyes and tipped her head back to look at him. "Yeah. Four or five bullshit threats a day."
"He hasn't texted or called to gloat. Why do you think that is?"
"I don't know. Maybe since he found me, the thrill of the chase is over?" She closed her eyes and leaned back against him.
Brock bent down and kissed her lips. He whispered against them, "Let's load up Fester and head to my apartment."
Her eyes snapped open. "No. I'm not letting him win."
"There is no contest here. The apartment is a zoo. We have no place to sleep. We'll come back tomorrow, clean up, and get the locks changed. Tonight, I want to hold you."
She blinked up at him. "I don't even know if I have clothes for tomorrow."
"We can wash what you have on." He moved from behind the chair and extended his hand to her. "Let me take care of you tonight, Kallie. You can be a bad-ass cop tomorrow."
A tired chuckle fell from her. "Yeah? I have your permission?"
"Definitely. You as a bad-ass cop turns my crank."
"Turns your crank? Hello, there's my Boomer." She stood, keeping Fester with her.
"Not a Boomer." He kissed her quickly before he left the room.
"If it walks like a Boomer and talks like a Boomer." She walked to the doorway and raised her voice as he went to get Fester's carrier.
He popped his head out of the utility room. "I do not walk like an old man."
"Sorry, you're right. If it thinks like a Boomer and talks like a Boomer..."
"Smart ass."
Kallie chuckled at the reply that she wasn't sure she was supposed to hear.
Sleeping with Brock was a guilty pleasure. Waking up to his touch? Amazing. A treat she'd learned to love since she'd started sleeping with him. Granted, waking up early enough to leisurely make love was rare. Those mornings were few and far between, but when they shared them, they were spectacular. She smiled. Even the mornings they had to hurry were incredible.
His fingers trailed up and down her thigh. She hummed and pushed back into his morning wood. He dipped down and trailed kisses along her neck. The pads of his fingertips meandered over her hip and up to her breast, all while dotting every inch of exposed skin on her neck with small, tender kisses.
Aroused and awake, she shifted her top leg and moved it up toward her chest. It was all the invitation Brock needed. He nipped her shoulder as he slowly worked himself inside her––sans condom. After Brock had been released from the hospital, they'd both been tested and had decided to forgo condoms because she had birth control. It was a luxurious sensation of freedom enhanced by their mutual trust. The emotion that engulfed her when Brock made love to her was impossible to deny. He was her true north. He was the direction she'd travel, no matter what. Everything in her life now pointed to him. He was her best friend, her lover, an intellectual stimulant, sparring partner, and couch potato soul mate. The ease and speed that her life had absorbed into his should have scared her, but there were no doubts. None. This man supported her but didn't stifle her. He encouraged her, applauded her efforts, laughed at her silliness and accepted her for who she was. Every damn time. Brock was her constant, her true north, and that realization soaked into every fiber of her soul.
He wrapped around her, spooning her against him, their bodies connected, touching, reassuring. With Brock she felt cherished. His fingers teased her nipples as he languidly moved forward and retreated. There was no rush, only sensation. He weaved his fingers through hers, while still moving in that perfect tempo that would shatter them, eventually.
"I could have lost you last night."
She turned her head and kissed him. "You could have but you didn't. We know the risks."
He took her lips and dipped inside with his tongue, the kiss just as controlled as his pace. "It doesn't mean I have to like it. I hate it. Promise me you'll be careful. Promise me."
"I will. You know I will. For you. For us."
His body sped up, his urgency shown not only by his words. Heat curled at her core, growing in intensity. She closed her eyes and let Brock take her to that wonderful peak. She squeezed his hand when her body rolled over the summit and held him tight through his climax.
"You have to make some changes. Small things to make sure you're covered. Not because you need a babysitter, but because you're the most important thing in my life." His words were whispered. They were a plea.
She reached back and hugged him closer to her. "I'll make sure."
19
Brock stared sightlessly through the window of Casey's diner. Kallie was late, which given their profession wasn't unusual, but he worried. Rich had been conspicuously absent. No texts, no calls. He and Grant had talked and had worked out a system. The woman remained in one of their lines of vision. She didn't like it, but they didn't care. Since the top blew off the Treyson case, they'd both been busy working different cases. Grant Couch was a good partner for Kallie. They jelled, which fucking irritated him, but that was his baggage. The jealousy thing was new to him. The fucking little green monster trotted front and center whenever he thought of Kallie working late nights with Grant, but she didn't need or want that type of attitude. With her past, it wasn't welcome, and he'd shoved that little green monster into a box and shut the lid, for the most part keeping the gremlin at bay. But the specter of Rich never left him alone. The bastard was always around, distorting their normal actions, altering their lives in little ways. Irritating and offensive, but unavoidable.
After the break in at her apartment, Kallie finally started to open up to him about Rich. She'd given him her phone, and he'd scanned over four hundred of the most horrific texts he'd ever read. The man went into detail about how he was going to kill Kallie.
"Hey." Sean pushed into the seat across from him.
Brock
blinked and sat up, pulling his foot off the banquette seat, giving his friend room. "Dude, what are you doing down here?"
"An apartment fire on Halstead around noon. The fire chief thought it went up too fast, so they called me in."
"Arson?"
"Nah, just a fuck-ton of code violations. I figured I'd grab some food to go while I was here. Where's Kallie?"
"Still out." Brock stopped talking when the waiter showed up to top off his coffee. Sean ordered two specials to go, and they were alone again.
"Saw both you and Kallie on television about a week ago, and every night since. That Treyson case is some serious shit, isn't it? That courthouse is a fucking zoo. Media everywhere. Sebastian Treyson has made the circuit on every talk show and then some."
"You don't know the half of it." He held up a hand, stilling the questions he knew Sean had. "When I can talk about it, I'll fill you in, suffice to say this is the case that keeps on giving."
"Fuck, no shit?"
"No shit." By not saying anything, he'd told Sean more than he'd told anyone else not directly connected to the case. Sean could read him like a fucking book, and he knew his best friend just as well.
"When's Jordan due back?" Sean leaned back in the booth.
"No idea. The feds lost Grappelli, again."
"So why is Jordan still gone?"
Brock drew in a long breath. He knew why, but it was classified. The feds were using Jordan. In order to smoke Grappelli out of the woodwork, they were milking information and instinct from Jordan. Instead of saying anything, he just shrugged.
Sean narrowed his eyes for a moment. "Can't say, huh?"
"Something like that. In the meantime, Bettis, Hansen, and I have a pretty good working relationship. I'm still the third wheel, but it works. The communication is heinous at times, but we get shit done."
"How long until your Lieutenant finds you a new partner, permanently?"
"Don't know. Davidson will keep me unattached as long as possible, but life happens, right?"
"Man, you got that right. On another subject, what do you have planned for Valentine’s Day?" Sean's smile told him his friend had plans, but for what woman?
Brock gave him the same shit eating grin right back. "It's only the middle of January."
"True, but you got to plan things like this, my friend."
"I'm prepared. Eagle Scout, remember?" The ring he bought Kallie was tucked in that black velvet box, tucked into the inside pocket of his coat. "What about you?"
"Working it." Sean winked at him as the waiter brought two Styrofoam containers to the table bundled up in a white plastic bag.
"Do you need another refill?" The waiter wiggled the coffee pot in his hand.
Brock shook his head. Sean gave the man two twenties and told him to keep the change. "Not like you to turn down more coffee." Sean chuckled as he scooted from the booth.
Brock motioned toward the window. Sean's eyes followed. Kallie stood on the far side of the street, her hands in her pockets as she looked down the avenue waiting for traffic to clear. Brock did a quick scan of the surrounding area. There. Grant stood at the entrance to the parking lot waiting for Brock to see his partner. The man had their backs.
Brock stood and headed to the door with Sean.
"Ah, well that explains it. Coffee can’t compete with your girl. Hey, why don't we get together for the Super Bowl, drink too much, and eat a shit-ton of food?"
"Perfect. Your place?"
"That works. You bring the food; I'll have the drinks covered and the spare room made up in case it goes into overtime."
He opened the door and held it so Sean didn’t have to juggle the take out containers. "Make sure you have two pillows, my man."
"Pfft. I was an Eagle Scout too, remember? Always prepared. Speaking of which—" Sean glanced at his watch “—you'll be late for dinner."
"Mom lets her get away with it." Brock chuckled at Sean's stupefied gape.
They moved to the sidewalk together. "Holy hell, she must really love that woman."
"Yeah, they cook together on weekends when Kallie isn't on a case. They've bonded." Kallie had fit into his family seamlessly. She and Brianna were tight. Although Bekki and she were friendly, they weren’t as close. Kallie gave no quarter to his brothers, which he fucking loved.
"So, if this doesn't work out, they're keeping Kallie, and you're booted to the curb?" Sean laughed and dodged the elbow Brock threw his way.
"Asshole. Tell me your mom wouldn't keep a fantastic woman if you ever brought one home."
"Probably, but I'm not there just yet, so no worries on that point."
He nodded to his woman. "I did something right to get her."
Kallie stepped off the curb when the light turned and was halfway across the street. He and Sean stood at the curb waiting. She saw them, he waved, and a huge smile parted her face. Grant waved to him from behind her and turned toward the parking lot, catching his attention. He heard Sean say something at the same time as he saw a man dart off the curb behind Kallie. She waved back, but all he could see was the man's face. It was screwed into a snarl. Brock dropped his hands and ripped the snaps of his coat open to access his weapon. Kallie must have noticed the action because she jerked her head and looked behind her.
There are some moments that seem to stretch into eternity. This wasn't one of them. Brock saw the gun as the man lifted it. Instinct, training and terror catapulted him into action. With the butt of his gun already palmed, he yelled for Kallie to get down. She dropped like a fucking rock and his gun kicked in his hand. The lunatic behind Kallie jolted backward and crumpled to the ground. He ran forward and held his gun on the man, but lowered his weapon and sank to his knees when he reached Kallie. Sean, who'd been at his side the entire time, held his automatic on the bastard.
"Babe, fuck… Kallie!"
"I'm okay." Her voice shook as she grabbed his hand and let herself be hauled into a crushing embrace. Sean was on the phone and barking orders to the cops who flew from the precinct offices.
"Who the fuck?" Brock glanced at the man when Sean toed him over and cuffed the bastard.
"Rich. That's Rich."
Her fucking ex-husband. The man looked nothing like the mug shot he'd seen of the bastard. The bastard on the street had filthy matted hair and a full beard. "Are you sure you're okay?" He ran his hands over her face. Her color was shit; she was so damn pale. He watched Sean kick the gun the asshole had drawn on Kallie, moving it from the son of a bitch’s reach.
"I... ah... yeah." Down filling fluttered to the street and his gaze fell to her jacket. There was a bullet hole just under her left arm. "Wow, that was kinda close, huh?" She grabbed his arm, steadying herself.
"How the fuck did he find you?" He stood and helped Kallie up. Rich moaned and they both turned to face the man who'd tried to kill her.
"My bet is on the newscasts from the Treyson case. Both of you were front and center and the media hasn't stopped talking about the case." Sean stood when Rich was flipped onto his back. Cuffed, the bastard wasn't going anywhere, and several officers worked on stemming the blood loss from the gunshot wound to his thigh. The fucker would live to go to court. Again. Brock had been shooting at a moving target while running. His bullet went low and left and hit the bastard just below the crotch on the outside of his leg. He clutched Kallie tightly.
"You good here?" Sean asked.
"Yeah, sorry, but I think you'll have to reheat your dinner." Paperwork took for fucking ever, especially when a weapon was discharged.
"No worries, and besides, the way this place is covered with video surveillance, we won't be here long. They can confirm our account without problem." Sean holstered his weapon.
"You fucking bitch. I'll kill you!" Spittle flew from Rich's mouth, hanging in a string down his cheek.
Rage seethed under his skin. That bastard had tried to kill the woman he loved, the woman he was going to ask to marry him. The motherfucker didn't deserve to draw air into his
lungs, and yet there he was, spewing vitriol and hate. "Come on. Let's get inside." Brock nodded, acknowledging one of the officers who escorted them into the precinct.
“You bitch! You ruined my life!”
Brock spun on the bastard. Her ex sneered at him. “She’ll ruin you, too.”
"Brock, let's go inside." Kallie moved in front of him, blocking his view of the bastard. "He's taken too much from me already. He can't hurt me anymore. Let's go do the paperwork and put him where he belongs, for good."
He dropped his forehead to hers and held her. "He almost took you from me." He couldn't fathom his life without her in it. She'd become his cornerstone, his foundation. Finally, he leaned away, "Let's go."
He didn't know who was going to do the investigation, but when some bastard tries to take down one of their own, whoever had the case would be doing it by the numbers. Letting someone get off on a technicality wasn't going to happen. He surrendered his weapon when asked and helped Kallie back into their building.
Davidson stood at the top of the stairs. "The video has already been downloaded. I’m not the DA, but it looked like a justified shooting. His gun bucks and discharges before yours. IA has been called. You’ll both need to give statements, and I’m going to have to separate you until that’s done. You sure you're good, Redman?"
Kallie nodded. "I'm over the shock, and I've moved on to pissed-the-fuck-off."
"Then let’s get this shit over with and get everyone home before midnight." Davidson caught Brock's eyes and motioned to Kallie as if asking if she were actually good or fronting. Brock nodded. She was more squared away than he was, and that was a testament to her internal strength.
Kallie tugged her boots off and nearly stumbled over her own feet. She could hear Brock in the bedroom. He’d headed there right after they’d gotten home.
"Kallie?"
"Kitchen."
"Do you want a drink?" Brock leaned against the door jamb.
A Hope City Duet Page 22
