Covering Ollie (Police and Fire: Operation Alpha) (On Call Book 2)

by Freya Barker

  That conclusion is firmed up when, minutes later, I see an expensive European-made sports car parked in front of her house, as she pulls the truck up beside her MINI. The owner of the flashy ride is standing on her porch with a massive bouquet of flowers. I pull into my own driveway, and by the time I get out of my Toyota and glance over my shoulder, I can just see her being wrapped in the sleezeball’s arms.

  Fucking Josh Carey.

  I had only one encounter with that entitled rich-boy piece of shit, but that was enough. I’m surprised—and frankly disappointed—someone as wholesome as Ollie would give that man the time of day.

  Ollie

  “What are you doing here, Josh?” I snap, the moment I get out of my truck.

  The idiot doesn’t say a word, just stands there with a big grin on his face. I’m not sure what it is about me that he can’t leave well enough alone.

  I barely get up the front steps, when he wraps me in a hug, pinning my arms to my sides. I’m almost choking on the thick fumes of cologne wafting from him.

  “So good to see you again,” he whispers somewhere above my left ear, like some long-lost loved one.

  Oh, hell-the-fuck no.

  I balance on my good leg and stamp the heel of my prosthesis on his foot. It probably hurts me as much as it does him, but I grind my teeth against the jolt to my knee. The satisfaction is great when he yelps and promptly drops his arms as well as the bouquet of flowers.

  “Don’t be like that. Olivia.”

  “What are you doing here, Josh?” I repeat. “I thought I made it clear, months ago, I’m not interested in going on any more dates with you.”

  That had been a mistake of epic proportions. I met him at my initial meeting with his mother, Katherine, and at her urging, accepted an invitation for dinner. Other than a handful of dates that went nowhere, while I’d focused on raising my daughter, my dating life was pretty much nonexistent. I thought maybe it was time to dip my toe in the dating pool again—he seemed a nice enough guy.

  It was a disaster.

  From the moment I met him at the swankiest restaurant in town, I realized my mistake. He’d flashed his fat, golden money clip, handing out bills to everyone like fucking candy. The maître d’ for his best table, the hostess who led the way, the waitress to take good care of us, and the sommelier to keep the wine coming. Before we even ordered dinner, he’d already dropped a couple hundred dollars. It was obscene.

  When I ordered my dinner choice and he dismissed it, insisting the waitress bring me the most expensive item on the menu, I was done. I crumpled up my napkin, got up, and walked out of the restaurant, leaving him to stare after me.

  The next day he called, asking when he could see me again. I shut him down. He called again a few weeks later, apologizing if he’d offended me by ordering my meal for me. Clearly he didn’t have a clue, so that time I made it abundantly clear I would not consider a repeat of the experience any time soon, and I’d appreciate it if he didn’t call any more. There was lots I wanted to tell him, but given the work relationship I have with his mother, I thought it best to exercise restraint.

  I thought that would be the end of it, since I haven’t heard from him in months.

  Until today.

  I’m not sure why I look over at Joe’s house. Maybe I’m hoping he’ll come to my rescue, but when I see his front door close, I realize I’ll have to get rid of the creep myself.

  “Look,” he says, drawing my attention. “I realize we got off on the wrong foot, but—”

  “That’s just it, Josh. We didn’t get off at all. I’m sure you have better things to do with your time than beat a dead horse, so let me make this very easy on you. I’m not interested and there is no way in hell that will ever change. I do not want to go out with you.”

  He doesn’t speak—just stares at me—his anger evident, and I inadvertently take a step back slipping my truck keys between my fingers. Then I hear a door slam, and when I look over I see Trinny crossing the road. Josh hears it too and quickly steps down the porch, beelining it for his shiny car. They pass each other at the bottom of the driveway, and although Trinny politely says hello, Josh appears to duck his head and ignore her. She stops and looks after him.

  “Who the hell was that?” she asks, walking up as his car speeds off.

  “A pain in my ass I thought I’d gotten rid of.” When she stops in front of me with an eyebrow raised—my smartass daughter—I clarify, “That’s Mrs. Carey’s son, Josh.”

  “Isn’t he the guy you went out with?”

  “Once, and yes, he is. It appears no is not found in his vocabulary.”

  “And clearly he has piss poor taste in flowers. Are those blue chrysanthemums?” She points at the crumpled bouquet of violently colored flowers on the ground.

  “Dyed.”

  “I see that. Clearly he doesn’t know you very well, does he?”

  I grin. My girl knows how I feel about ‘modified’ flowers or plants. I’ve never understood why people choose to mess with something nature so beautifully perfected.

  “I’ll get rid of them.” She bends down, picks up the bouquet, and takes it around the side of the house where I keep the composter, while I open the door. “So how was Granny Grace?” she asks when she follows me inside.

  “Lippy. And shamelessly flirting with poor Mr. Benedetti. Which reminds me…” I turn on my traitorous daughter. “I did not appreciate finding him on my doorstep without warning this morning, Trinity. I’m not a fan of being set up, and since you chose to lie to me this morning, that’s the only conclusion I can come to. Whatever it is you hope to accomplish, I suggest you drop it. It ain’t gonna happen.”

  “He’s a nice man, Mom.”

  I can hear the pout in her voice as I focus my attention on the contents of my fridge, trying to decide whether I need to head out to the store before I give my leg a rest.

  “He seems to be, but that still doesn’t mean I need you to dabble in my social life.”

  Apparently that’s funny, because Trinny cracks up behind me. “What social life?”

  “Basta. That’ll do, Trinny,” I scold her, even as her infectious laugh starts working on me, and I barely manage to suppress my own. “Now, what do you feel like for dinner? Looks like I have to head to the store, unless you’d like to come?”

  “I have to be back across the street in an hour. Mr. B is going out.”

  That has me take my head out of the fridge and turn to look at my daughter.

  “Oh?”

  Grinning she tilts her head to the side. “Ain’t gonna happen, Mom?”

  With a huff, I stalk past her and upstairs. My stump needs a rest.

  Chapter 5

  Joe

  “Hey. Mr. B!”

  “Be right down, Trinny!” I call down the stairs. “Pizza should be here soon—I left money on the counter.”

  I walk back into my bedroom, trying to manipulate these little damn buttons into their assigned holes on my rented shirt. If I could’ve bailed out of this obligation I would’ve. Fuck, I even tried, but I was told—in no uncertain terms—my attendance at this annual fundraising gala was expected.

  Thank fuck the rental place provided me with a pre-tied bow tie, I just wish they also had shirts with snaps. It’s the least they could offer for the almost three-hundred-dollar fee they charged for the tuxedo. Ridiculous amount of money for borrowing a damn suit for twenty-four hours.

  Glancing out the window, I notice the blue MINI backing out of the driveway across the street. I haven’t spoken to Ollie since the day I helped move her friend, almost six weeks ago, but I seem to have developed a habit of keeping an eye on her house. Most days the little blue car stays right there, in the driveway beside the truck. The only time I saw the pickup gone was about three weeks ago when we were hit with a surprise late season snow dump of almost a foot.

  It started coming down heavy when I went to bed, and knowing I’d have to shovel myself out in the morning, I’d set my alarm a l
ittle earlier. Except when I came downstairs the next morning, someone had already cleared my driveway. Knowing my boys were still in bed, I snuck a glance across the road and noticed Ollie’s driveway was cleared and the pickup with the small plow blade mounted on the front was gone from its spot.

  I should’ve gone over and thanked her, but I kept finding excuses to avoid seeing her. Still, every chance I have, I find myself sneaking a glance over at her house.

  With the final button finally slipping home, I shrug on the tux jacket and quickly snap the tie around my neck. A straight jacket would be more comfortable. It’s bad enough that most days I have to go to work in a suit when I’m much more comfortable in jeans and a shirt, but this is a whole new form of torture.

  Just as I’m coming downstairs, I hear the front doorbell ring.

  “I’ll get it,” I announce when I find the boys and Trinny glued to some action movie on TV. I grab the money from the counter and pay the pizza delivery guy at the door. “Can you pause that? Pizza’s here.”

  “Mr. B, is it okay if I use your computer for a bit?” Trinny asks when she walk into the kitchen behind the boys, who don’t waste any time decimating the large pie I got them.

  “Mase, in the kitchen please,” I call after my oldest, who tries to sneak his plate back into the living room, before turning to Trinny. “Sure you can, just shut it down when you’re done.” Since dropping her phone and cracking the screen a few weeks ago, she’s asked me a few times.

  “Thanks.” Grabbing a few slices on a plate, she goes to join the boys at the kitchen table.

  I’d much rather stay here and eat pizza with my boys, but I’m already late for the La Plata Youth Services fundraiser. Hosted by none other than Katherine Carey at the Durango Arts Center.

  “Ryder, ten o’clock, Buddy. Don’t give Trinny a hard time.”

  “But it’s the weekend?”

  “I know, but we have to get up early tomorrow for Mason’s soccer tournament in Farmington, remember?”

  “So why can Mason stay up later?” This has become a regular argument lately and I don’t have time for it now.

  “Mason is four years older. No arguments. I’ve gotta go.” I walk over and press a kiss to the top of his head, but when I go to do the same to Mase, he ducks away, so I ruffle his hair instead. “I hope to be back before eleven, but if these guys give you any trouble, give me a call.”

  “Sure thing, Mr. B.”

  Considering the last of the snow just melted a week or so ago, I’m surprised at how mild it is for early May, but I’m not complaining. I was more than ready for winter to be over.

  The parking lot is packed when I get to the Arts Center, so I’m forced to find a spot on the street. Looks like I’ll be the last one in.

  Mrs. Carey spots me the moment I walk into the theater, where the dinner is held, and rushes over.

  “So pleased you could make it, Chief Benedetti. They’ve only just begun serving the appetizer course. I’ve reserved you a place at the head table.”

  I recognize the slight stab at my late arrival, but shrug it off. This is part and parcel of taking on a very public position. I knew this going in. Not my favorite aspect of the job, but I recognize it as being an important one, to develop and maintain community relationships.

  She leads me to a table in front of the stage, where most of the city’s notables are already seated. I expected her son would be in attendance, but I’m still a bit surprised to see a distinctly uncomfortable Ollie sitting beside him. Surprised, mostly because I would’ve expected the asshole to at least pick her up instead of letting her drive herself in that dinky-toy car.

  I know she’s a landscape architect. Trinny is proving to be a great source of information: she does a lot of work for the municipality, and during the slower winter months she maintains a few snow removal contracts. I also found out from her daughter, she’s a bit of a hermit. It had been on my tongue to ask what her mom is doing with a slime like Josh Carey, but I held back. That question is burning once again, seeing them side by side.

  Katherine makes introductions, although I’ve met most people at the table. When we get to Ollie, she is lauded as the architect/designer working on the new Santa Rita Memorial Park project. She looks almost relieved when she smiles at me and holds out her hand.

  “Fancy meeting you here,” she quips, earning a sharp look from her tablemate.

  “Had I known, we could’ve driven in together.” I’m talking to Ollie, but shoot Josh a glare hoping he’ll get the message.

  “I didn’t realize you two knew each other?” Katherine observes as I help her take her seat. She indicates for me to take the empty chair to her right.

  “Neighbors.”

  “Friends.” It startles me when I hear Ollie’s voice over mine. The look on her face holds a plea, which confuses me, but I quickly correct myself.

  “And friends,” I confirm, with a reassuring nod in her direction.

  Katherine looks from me to Ollie and back again. “I take it you’re settling in, Chief Benedetti,” she concludes with a sour smile.

  I have no idea what’s crawled up her butt, but I force myself to smile back. “Ms. Rizzo and her lovely daughter have certainly helped make us feel welcome. We’re settling in just fine.”

  The next forty minutes are spent eating, smiling, and nodding at the tediously boring conversation at the table. At least the food is good. I’m trying hard not to have my eyes glued to the pretty picture my neighbor makes. Her hair is messily pinned up with strands springing free around her face, making her look sexy as all get out. Then there’s the sleeveless navy dress I can only see the top half of over the table. Gathered at the shoulders the fabric drapes down to reveal a mouthwatering cleavage, displaying and intriguing piece of ink on the swell of her ample breasts. Once or twice I’m caught staring by an angry-looking Josh, and I determinedly focus on my plate.

  When the last dishes are cleared, and coffee is poured, we’ve arrived at the official part of the evening—the speeches—and I’m looking for a good excuse to make myself scarce. I catch Ollie’s eye, and clearly of similar mind, she nudges her head to the bar. I give her a barely perceptible nod.

  Getting up, I drop my napkin on the table, and walk over to the far side of the theater where a crowd is already forming a line for the cash bar. I assume she’ll follow, yet when I get to the bar and turn to look behind me, I can’t see her. Just an empty spot at the table. I scan the crowd, when I notice the door to the hallway falling shut.

  Maybe I misunderstood.

  Mumbling apologies as I weave my way through the crowd, I make my way to the door. The moment I step through I can hear her voice.

  The hair on my neck stands on end.

  “No!”

  Ollie

  Coming was a giant mistake.

  Katherine basically browbeat me into this. I tried declining, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She’d paid for my seat and went so far as to tell me there would be many potential big clients in attendance, and it might hurt my business if I didn’t.

  A barely veiled threat I heard loud and clear. I just wasn’t clear on her motivation to want me present so badly, until I got here.

  It was obvious from the start; I was to be paired up with that sleazy son of hers, Josh. I hadn’t seen or heard from him since that uncomfortable scene on my porch, but it’s obvious he’s not lost his obsessive interest as he parades me around, introducing me as his ‘date.’ Short of making a scene—which might really hurt my business—all I could do was tag along and try to keep as much distance between us as I could.

  I can’t tell you how relieved I was to see Joe come in and be seated almost across from me. The moment Katherine got up for the next speech, I signaled him to meet me at the bar, hoping he might be able to help me get out of this predicament.

  Once I saw him get up, I did as well, but halfway to the bar I was grabbed, none too gently, by my arm and firmly steered toward the doors instead.

&nbs
p; “You do not want to upset my mother,” Josh hisses in my ear when I start to protest.

  Once we’re in the hallway, and out of earshot, I yank my arm free from his hold. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  “Making sure you remember who your date is.” I try to take a step back when his spittle hits my face—gross—but he’s backed me into the wall.

  “Are you nuts? I’m here on my own.” I can’t believe the gall of this man.

  “Not quite. You came here on Mother’s invitation as my date.”

  “I never agreed to anything like that, or I wouldn’t have come,” I sputter.

  “Somehow I find that hard to believe.” He pushes his body closer, and I almost gag when I feel his erection pressing in my stomach. “You show up dressed for seduction, with your tits hanging out, and I’m supposed to believe that’s not for my benefit? Please…”

  The instant his head starts lowering to mine, I brace one hand in his chest and shove the palm of the other in his face. “No!”

  “Hey!” At the sound of the authoritative voice, Josh jumps back, and I’m relieved to see Joe stalking toward us, his face thunderous. “What is going on here?”

  In a split-second decision, I launch myself at Joe, wrapping my arms around his midsection. “There you are. I was wondering what was keeping you.”

  To say he looks confused would be an understatement, but it doesn’t take long for him to clue in as he wraps a firm arm around me. His glare immediately returns to Josh, whose eyes have formed into slits.

  “Any particular reason my girl had to push you off?”

  There is no sign of the soft-spoken Joe Benedetti now, not even when he calls me his ‘girl.’ His voice is lined with steel and I can feel the tension coming off him in waves.

  “A misunderstanding,” the weasel mutters.