Be Ours: A Valentine's Day Romance

by Jagger Cole

  “The cops are trying to kill me.”

  The ruined bathroom goes silent. I glance at Bishop. I can tell we both want to roll our eyes. Because this just started to sound flat-out crazy.

  “Right,” I say slowly. “Well, why don’t we—”

  “I know you think I’m crazy,” she whispers, her eyes feverishly darting between us. “But I have proof. The Santa Marina cops are trying to kill me.”

  I look at my friend again, and he frowns in confusion. “Miss, those men out there weren’t cops.”

  “No, they were the cartel.”

  I frown, but she nods.

  “Go ahead. Check. I’ll bet you whatever you want that they’ve all got the same tattoo on their necks.”

  Bishop has his hand on his radio. The girl swallows nervously.

  “Please? Just check first?”

  He looks at me, then her, and nods. “One sec.” He steps out of the bathroom onto the porch and jogs down the stairs.

  I turn to her. “What’s your name?”

  She shakes her head, still looking at me with fear.

  “I’m Tanner,” I say again, trying to keep my voice soothing. “And I’m not going to hurt you.”

  She looks into my eyes. Goddamn she’s gorgeous. Stunning blues eyes, full red lips, and that blonde hair tumbling halfway down her back. She’s young, too, maybe college-aged, and even though she looks scared, she’s got this glow to her that I’m just fucking hooked on instantly.

  “Cora,” she says quietly. “I’m Cora.”

  “Nice to meet you, Cora.”

  Bishop runs up the stairs and steps back into the room behind us. I glance at him, but the look on his face says it all.

  “No way,” I growl.

  “Yeah,” he mutters. “Soldados de los Muertos,” he grunts. “Soldiers of the Dead. They’re on our radar down at the precinct, but they mostly operate much further south out of LA and San Diego. Coke mostly, but they’ve been getting into heroin and the Fentanyl trade.”

  He frowns. “Darlin, I’m sorry, but I need to call this in.”

  “The police—”

  “The police aren’t trying to kill you, sweetheart,” he says gently. “I promise—”

  “Your chief,” she gasps, her eyes darting between us. “I don’t know his name, but he’s the chief.”

  I glance at Bishop, and he arches a brow at me.

  “He knows I saw it all,” she whispers.

  “Saw what?” I whisper.

  She shakes her head.

  “Bishop’s a good guy,” I say gently. “You can tell him. You can tell us.”

  She looks between us again. Her eyes are wide and scared. But she swallows and then nods quietly. “Your police chief is with them,” she whispers, nodding out the door. “The cartel.”

  Okay, what?

  “Please,” she whispers when she sees the disbelief on our faces. “I have proof, and they know it. Please,” she begs. “Please help me.”

  It’s so soft and innocent—so in need of help. Bishop and I look at each other. I know we’re both partly looking for a way out in each other’s faces. But when our eyes meet, I think we both know we’re already hooked into this.

  “My place,” I grunt. “Let’s take her there, and we’ll figure this out. And then you can call this in, because I know you have to.”

  Bishop rakes his fingers over his scruff. “Fuck,” he finally says. “Okay, fuck, fine.” He nods. “Let’s go, miss—” he frowns. “What’s your name, darlin?”

  “Cora,” she says quietly.

  “Let’s go figure this out, Cora,” he says gently. “Do you have any clothes?”

  She blushes and nods.

  “We’ll give you some privacy to—”

  “Please don’t leave,” she blurts. She still looks fucking terrified. I don’t blame her; she did just get shot at.

  “We’ll turn around.”

  “Thank you,” she whispers.

  She dresses quickly. It might be wrong, but I know Bishop and I are both wishing we had eyes in the back of our head. Or that we were both a little less good men in this instant. But hell, we are, and neither of us sneaks a peek.

  Because even with what just happened, what I saw before is forever etched into my head.

  3

  Cora

  Part of me still can’t believe I’m not dead. I know I’m safe. But I also know that reality doesn’t really seem all that real right now.

  I’m barely conscious of the drive. I’m vaguely aware that the first man, the younger guy, drives me in his SUV. But he recognizes my silence, and doesn’t try and talk either, which I appreciate.

  My mind is going crazy trying to process what just happened, but it’s just the next insanity of my life over the last few days. I hug myself and look out of the window at the dark beach and town.

  I haven’t been to Santa Marina since I was a little kid. But it was the one place I could think of that I could get to with what I had. The bus from San Francisco dropped me off here a few hours ago, and I hid at a small, secluded beach until dark before I went to the house. Why I went there is one of the many things I haven’t told either of them. But my one priority was them not calling the police.

  The police can’t know I’m here, because if they do, I’m dead. After what I saw? Yeah, I’m fucking dead.

  I shiver in the car. The guy, Tanner, pulls up a drive to a not huge but beautiful looking modern house. It’s not right on the beach, but I can hear the surf close by over the dunes when he turns the car off.

  “This is me,” he says gently. “Let’s get you inside and we can sort this out.”

  “I didn’t break and enter,” I blurt.

  He smiles thinly. “Inside. Let’s figure it out.”

  “I’m not crazy, either.”

  “I know you’re not, Cora,” he says genuinely. I blush in the darkness. He’s like movie-star handsome. It feels weird to be blushing like a freaking schoolgirl over a guy after what just happened. But, here we are.

  “They really are trying to kill me.”

  He nods and opens his door. “Come on.”

  I follow, and we walk up to the front door as the other guy’s truck drives up. After what I’ve witnessed, the sight of “Santa Marina Police” on the side of it chills my blood. But Tanner seems to sense it.

  “Look, whatever is going on, Bishop is one of the good guys, I promise. He might come off like a grumpy grizzly bear, but I’d trust him with my life, okay?” He looks into my eyes, and I nod.

  “Okay,” I say softly.

  Bishop walks over, and I have to hide a smile. “Bear” is certainly an appropriate word. I mean they’re both big muscled guys, but Bishop is huge, and with the scruffy beard, he’s like a wild animal.

  We step inside, and I blink in surprise. The house is gorgeous and beautifully designed.

  “Have a seat,” Tanner nods at a slightly sunken living room with views of the dunes and the ocean beyond. I walk quietly over and sit on a huge wrap-around couch.

  “You want anything to drink? Coffee? Tea? Something stronger?”

  I shake my head. “Just water, actually. And thank you.”

  “Of course,” Bishop growls. He sits catty-corner to me, frowning slightly. But it’s not angry, it’s concern. “You said you have proof?”

  I hesitate.

  “Listen, Cora, I want to help you. But your claims are...” he shrugs.

  “Crazy?”

  He smiles. “No, just…unusual.”

  I reach into my small backpack and pull out my phone. I shiver even finding the video. I know this is risky, but I have to. Tanner walks over with a glass of water and sits next to Bishop. I like that they’re both giving me space—it’s gentlemanly in a way. Even though I also sort of wish I was just buried in their arms, protected like I was before when the shooting started.

  They’re both, well—I blush yet again. They’re both ridiculously handsome guys—Tanner in that movie-star way; Bishop
in a grizzled mountain man way. But now is not the time for thoughts like that, I think with a fierce blush. I bring up the video and take a breath.

  “Here,” I whisper. I put it on the coffee table, hit play, and turn it towards them.

  On the screen, it’s dark. But then I know it’s the part where I stick the phone out from the closet where I was hiding. The memories come flooding back at sound of the big scary guy’s voice: me taking my break at the club from serving drinks. Then heading into the back room for my phone. The sound of the argument in the hallway, then the man getting shoved into the room. I remember ducking into the small closet and closing the door almost all the way. I can almost viscerally remember the threats and the sound of a gun being cocked.

  “Last chance,” the scary guy says in a grunting voice. My hand was shaking, so the video is jiggling but I know what it shows, even if I can’t bear to look at it. On screen, the man on his knees pleads.

  “Oh fuck this, enough already.”

  Another man steps onto the screen. He pulls out a gun with a silencer on it and presses it to the guy on the floor’s forehead. “How’s this for settling things.” He pulls the trigger. That I’ll remember forever.

  The phone jerks, because when I was filming, I was clamping a hand over my mouth to stop from screaming. The dead man falls to the ground, and the shooter shrugs.

  “There. Now that’s cleaned up.” He turns, and I remember thinking he was looking right at me as his eyes swept the room.

  “Holy fuck,” Bishop grunts quietly.

  On the screen, the shooter is facing the camera. In his uniform, with his star badge that says, “Santa Marina Chief of Police”.

  He turns back to the cartel guys and holsters the gun. “So, that’s done with. Can we move on to the drop now?”

  The other guy chuckles.

  “Yeah, we can.” He shakes his head. “You’re a cold motherfucker, Millbrook.”

  “Oh fuck me,” Bishop hisses. “What the fuck is this?”

  “Holy shit, man,” Tanner echoes, shaking his head.

  “This deal means a lot to me,” the Chief of Police grunts. “And we both have too much to lose if this asshole flapped his mouth.”

  “Agreed. So, you can move what we agreed on?”

  The chief nods. “Of course. It’s why I asked for it. And the Mejia Family can deliver?”

  “The meth and the fentanyl? That’s a lot of product.”

  “Give me a week.”

  The guy shrugs. “Then yeah. I can speak for Carlos and the others. They’re good if you can make good on this.”

  “It’s done.”

  They shake hands, and everyone files out of the room through a side door to the alley behind the cocktail lounge. A few stay behind to wrap the body up in the tarp and do a sweep. Then I’m alone. The camera is still on, and you can hear my shaking breath and my tears as I stagger out of the closet towards the door.

  But just then is when the alley door opens again. My phone is still filming my legs and the floor when I look up. I lock eyes with the big guy and the Chief of Police.

  “Get her!” The voice booms on the small phone speakers. I scream. Then the video cuts out when I start to run.

  The living room is silent. Bishop and Tanner are speechless, glancing at each other, then at me.

  “When was this taken?” Tanner growls gently.

  “Last night,” I whisper. “In San Fran.”

  Bishop blinks. “This is huge. You understand that, right”

  I nod.

  “You know who that was?”

  “Your chief of police,” I whisper.

  He blows air out through pursed lips. “Yeah. And the other guy Jim Curren. He’s basically the go-to man for the Soldados de los Muertos. That’s Carlos Mejia’s cartel crew.” He snarls. “Fuck. Okay, I need to call in what happened tonight.”

  My heart jumps into my throat, but he smiles and reaches out. His hand goes on my knee. For some reason, it’s so soothing when he touches me. I like his hand there—so huge, and strong.

  “I’m not mentioning you,” he growls.

  Tanner raises a brow.

  “I’m not,” Bishop mutters. “We need to figure this out. But if that’s Chief Millbrook on there, and Curren? This is bigger than anything this town has ever seen.” He stands. “Stay here with Tanner; you’ll be safe. I’m just calling in the breaking and entering.” He turns to Tanner. “Give me your gun, from tonight.”

  “Why?”

  “Because now it’s my second piece, which I happened to be carrying and used to shoot those guys all by my lonesome.”

  Tanner nods. He smiles thinly at his friend. “Thanks.” He takes the gun out of his holster and passes it to Bishop.

  “Does this have paperwork?”

  Tanner frowns. “C’mon, who do you think I am? Of course it does.”

  “Good. And traceable to you?”

  “Yeah,” Tanner grins. “Good thing you borrowed it the other day.”

  Bishop grins back and turns to me. He kneels, both hands on my knees as his fierce but kind, dark eyes look into mine. I smile, warmth teasing through me. It really is comforting, being here with them. For the first time since this all happened, I actually feel safe. Finally.

  “Stay here,” he whispers. “I’ll be back when I can, and we’ll go from there.” He stands and turns to his friend.

  “You know she’s safe,” Tanner growls. Bishop nods and shakes his hand.

  “Thanks for the help tonight.”

  Tanner shrugs and grins. “I mean I couldn’t just let you and your shit shooting skills walk into that alone.”

  Bishop rolls his eyes and flips the other man off, which makes me giggle softly. Bishop turns and winks at me, then he heads out. Tanner follows him and shuts the door behind him. Then he turns to me.

  “You hungry?”

  My stomach growls loudly, and he grins.

  “Starving, actually.”

  He chuckles. “Sit tight, I’ll make us something.”

  He ends up making a pasta and chicken dish laden with pesto sauce, and it’s fucking delicious. I haven’t eaten since last night, before I went on the run. So I devour three helpings.

  I can see Tanner has a million questions, like why the hell I broke into Loretta’s house. But he doesn’t ask. He lets me eat, and I’m so thankful for that. My head feels like it’s swimming, and I’m just physically exhausted.

  “I’d ask if you want to take a shower,” he grins.

  I blush deeply. “Did you…?”

  He chuckles and shakes his head. “I saw nothing, I swear.”

  I smile, still blushing as I glance down. “Liar.”

  Tanner grins. “To be fair, we thought you were a burglar.”

  “Who says I wasn’t?”

  “Did you steal anything?”

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “Then you’re a shitty burglar.”

  I giggle, and he smiles.

  “C’mon, let’s get you into bed.”

  I blush fiercely. His eyes flash with a hungry-looking heat.

  “The guest room,” he grunts. He doesn’t acknowledge my reaction “get you into bed,” but I can see it in his eyes, and it makes me tremble. He shows me to a guest room and brings me a huge t-shirt and some boxers of his to wear to bed.

  “Thank you,” I say softly at the doorway. “Honestly, thank you.”

  “We’ll get to the bottom of this,” he growls. “For now, just sleep. Your body and your mind need it. I’m right down the hall if you need anything at all, okay?”

  I swallow.

  “I’m in the security business,” he growls. “And you’d better believe this house is a fortress. And I was also in the Marines,” he grins. “Believe me, that pistol is not the only gun I own.”

  I smile, nodding. I’m already feeling a lot better.

  “Get some sleep, Cora.”

  He leans in. I gasp, and my heart surges with silly excitement. But he j
ust kisses the top of my head. God, even that is sort of sexy in this sizzling way. Then he pulls away, and he’s gone.

  I change and pull back the sheets before sinking into the bed. I pull the covers up to my chin, my mind still racing. None of this seems real. Twenty-four hours ago, I was just another college student trying to make ends meet with a demeaning cocktail waitress job.

  Now, the cartel wants me dead. The chief of police of this very town wants me dead. And somehow, I’m now snuggled into the guest room of one of the two complete strangers who rescued me tonight.

  Somehow, that doesn’t scare me.

  I close my eyes and slowly start to fade to sleep. But my thoughts are not very innocent at all.

  4

  Tanner

  Fuck, I’m hard.

  The moon is out, and it’s late as hell. But I can’t for the life of me seem to fall asleep. And I know exactly why.

  It’s Cora. Cora’s the reason I’m up, and the reason I’m up. I groan, glancing down at the huge tent in my sheets. Fuck, it’s like a steel bar under my covers.

  “Stop it,” I mutter to myself when my thoughts wander to her again. But, I’m apparently pretty fucking bad at listening to myself, because my hand slides under the sheets anyway. It slides down over my bare abs, until it wraps around my thickness. I groan, feeling myself pulse at the touch. I can see my bulge throb under the moon-lit sheets.

  I let my mind wander. I remember the bathroom from Loretta’s place. I remember seeing Cora nude in the moonlight, bending over and inadvertently showing me that perfect ass and pretty little pussy—bent over, ready, and willing.

  I grunt and stroke my hand up and down. My balls swell with need as I imagine stepping into that bathroom. In the fantasy, I grip her eager, willing hips. I push my swollen head against those dewy soft lips. She’d moan so sweet for me, pushing back to sink that hot little ass down on my throbbing cock, until—

  Cora screams—like, really actually screams in the real world, not my fantasy. I bolt upright as the bedroom door almost flies off the hinges. Core rushes screaming into the room.