by Freya Barker
“Christian!”
A lot of noise in the background, and then I catch a very soft, “…happy birthday…” before the line goes dead.
Joe
Pulling into my driveway, I look in my side mirror to see the patrol car parked along the curb across the street. I don’t waste any time getting out and crossing the road, knocking on the driver’s side window. Colter startles, flips down the phone he’s holding, and lowers his window.
“Chief?”
“Everything quiet here?”
“Yep. Nothing happening.”
“Thanks. You can head to the station. I’ve got this covered.” I plan to keep a very close eye on Ms. Rizzo myself. Right after I give her hell for not telling me about her run-in with Josh Carey.
“Want me back tonight, Chief?” Colter asks, an eyebrow raised.
“I’ll let you know.”
With a rap of my knuckles on the roof of the cruiser, I walk up Ollie’s drive, hearing Colter pull away. Taking out the key she gave me, I let myself in.
The moment she comes out of the downstairs bathroom, I lay into her.
“Why the hell didn’t you call me when that fucktard came at you again? I had to hear it from Blackfoot this morning—forty-eight fucking hours after the fact. I’m pulling every fucking favor to keep you safe, but you’re not making it easy.” My voice is rising, but I can’t stop the rush of emotion coming out in anger. “Already I had to pull Ramirez, because you two are clearly getting too goddamn cozy, and now Carey is a fucking wildcard we don’t need on top of everything else. Jesus, woman, had you called me right away, I could’ve dealt with his ass, but now I can add that to my problems for tomorrow.”
Too late I notice her arms are wrapped protectively around her body and all color is gone from her face. Then I watch as her shocked eyes fill with tears.
Fuck. I did that.
“Sweets, I—” I reach out, but she steps back, shaking her head.
“Christian…” Her voice cracks on her brother’s name and her eyes dart around the room. “I was going to call you.” A sob escapes her and I close in on her, but she plants a hand in the middle of my chest. “You have to…Trinny.” Her eyes fly to the window.
“Ollie, look at me. Honey. Talk to me.”
Slowly she turns back to me and I can see her struggling to regain control. “I heard them shoot him.”
“Who, your brother?” She nods sharply in response. “Okay, I need you to start at the beginning. Tell me exactly what happened.”
Haltingly she begins to talk, and the hair on my neck stands on end by the time she describes hearing her brother get shot. “I need to call Cruz,” she says, but her body is shaking and I catch her in my arms. “I have to call,” she repeats, as I half walk—half carry her to the couch, setting her down.
“I’ll call.”
Ollie
I barely register the conversation he is having with Cruz, all I can hear is the sound of the gunshot, Christian’s whispered words, and Joe’s angry ones. They tumble through my head as my stomach starts churning again. Not that there’s anything left in there, I already threw it all up.
“Happy birthday,” I suddenly blurt out, and Joe swings around to me.
“Hang on one sec, Cruz,” he mumbles into the phone before asking me, “what was that?”
“Last thing he said to me was happy birthday.”
“Is it your birthday?”
I shake my head. “No. My birthday was in April.”
“Trinny?”
“Hers is in July.”
“Sorry?” Joe presses the phone to his ear as he listens. Then his eyes come to me. “Yeah, I’ll tell her. Call me when you get something.”
Ending the call, he shoves his phone in his back pocket and walks over.
“Hey…” I blink when he leans over me. Concern lines his face as he slides a hand around my neck and leans his forehead against mine. “Cruz wants you to know he’s not heard anything about a shooting, but is looking into it right now. He also points out that until we have evidence to the contrary, not to lose hope.”
Tears well up again—Cruz is a seriously good guy, just like his predecessor, Adam Szura—but I swallow them back. He’s right, I can’t know for sure what I heard, but I know what he told me.
“We need to get Trinny safe. He says they’re watching,” I remind Joe.
“I know. Both of you are in my house from now on, until this is over.”
“But—”
“Please don’t fight me on this. It would make my life easier.”
My backs snaps straight as he echoes his earlier words, and I push him back as I get to my feet. “Right, I almost forgot. I wouldn’t want to make things more difficult for you.” I stalk past him and start up the stairs.
“Christ,” I hear him hiss behind me. “Where are you going?”
“Upstairs to pack my bag, I wouldn’t want to keep you waiting,” I toss over my shoulder, not slowing down.
I’ve barely hit the landing and I can hear him behind me, storming up the stairs. I dart into my bedroom, trying to close the door, but he’s faster, and easily pushes it open. The next moment he has me pressed to the wall, his hands planted on either side of my head and his face so close, I can feel his breath brush my lips.
“Back away.”
“I tried,” he mumbles incomprehensibly. “Backed off. Watched from a distance. Next thing I know, goddamn Ramirez moves in on you, then two days later you have to shove off that son of a bitch Carey. I tried, and it drives me fucking crazy.”
Before I even have a chance to take a breath, his lips cover mine and his tongue finds immediate access to my shocked mouth. It takes all of a second for my body to meld to his, arms wrapping tightly around his neck so I can hold on for the ride.
Tongues stroking, teeth nipping, and hands roaming—I lose all sense of time and place. When his thumb brushes my sensitive nipple, I groan in his mouth. Much too soon, he pulls back, leaving his forehead to rest against mine, our panted breaths mingling.
“Maybe we can get Trinny to her girlfriend’s early—tonight. Once the boys head out tomorrow morning, I can focus on you.” His voice is even softer than normal. “Trinny gone, you’re in my bed.”
“Joe…” He shakes his head and I bite back my protest.
“Gotta keep you safe, Olivia.”
Chapter 15
Ollie
“Bye, Ollie.”
Ryder rushes over and wraps his arms around my hips, giving me a squeeze before running back to the front door, where his father and brother are waiting. Mason mumbles a quick goodbye from there.
“Have fun, boys,” I offer.
“Be back soon. Lock the door behind me,” Joe directs at me, coupled with a lift of his chin before he herds his kids out the door.
I tag my mug of coffee, walk to the door, throw the lock, and aim for the stairs. I need a shower in the worst possible way, since sleep was sparse last night. Back to bed would be my first choice, but is sadly not an option. If I could skip today, I would—not exactly feeling like hobnobbing with Durango’s so-called high society—but I have no choice. The only good thing about today is it’ll all be over tomorrow.
We dropped Trinny off at her friend Kim’s house last night, which meant I had to say goodbye to my girl right there instead of at the airport. Even though Trinny was never much of a hugger, especially not since hitting puberty, she’d clung to me last night in a way that brought tears to my eyes.
We didn’t tell her about her uncle’s phone call. There’s not much I keep from my daughter, but I readily agreed with Joe, seeing as we don’t have any concrete information yet, it’d be cruel to give her that burden to carry on her trip.
When we got back to Joe’s place, he got busy getting the boys’ stuff ready and I grabbed my Kindle and hit the sack—Joe’s bed to be exact, on his insistence. Joe, who must’ve slept on the couch again, knocked on my door this morning to let me know coffee was on, and he’d
be heading out to drop off the boys shortly. Like I said, sleep had been spotty with everything swirling through my head, which is why I’m less than bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.
Joe’s master bath is nice. Seriously nice. The shower is a large walk-in with two heads, one with a firm water stream and the other dripping like rainfall. Other than the glass separation from the rest of the bathroom, the stall is tiled in what looks like gray slate, with a narrow ledge to sit on jutting out from the back wall. Like the master bedroom, all of the bathroom is done in shades of gray, making it feel like you’re standing under a waterfall.
By the time I get out, my mind isn’t much clearer but my body feels a whole lot better.
“Put on a fresh pot,” Joe says, surprising me when I walk into the kitchen.
“You’re back already?”
“Yeah. I left forty-five minutes ago, Sweets.”
“Shit. I didn’t realize I was in there that long. I hope you have an endless water supply.” I shrug apologetically.
“I’ve never run out before,” he says with an easy grin that hits me like a warm breeze.
“Good, because I seriously love your shower.” That earns me a smile, which does more than make me just warm. “Right.” I turn to the coffee pot. “Since it’s ten after eight. and you need to be at the station in twenty minutes, what can I whip you up for breakfast?” I ask, filling my mug to the brim. I require at least a double dose of caffeine before I’m willing to explore the hot tingle his smile has surging through my body.
“Ate with the boys earlier. I’m good, but have at my fridge,” he mumbles from right behind me. I suck in a breath and hold it when one hand lands on my hip. The fingers of the other brush away the hair at the nape of my neck, and I feel his lips press right there.
Another sweet after yesterday’s hot. Since he barely touched me after laying a heavy one on me yesterday afternoon, I was wondering if he’d turn cold again, but apparently not. I decide, here and now, I like hot and warm a shitload better than hot and cold.
“I’ll…uhh…have a look,” I mutter after I suck in a deep breath.
“Take your time. I’m grabbing a shower before heading out, but I can always swing back to pick you up after the briefing.” A squeeze of his hand on my hip, and I listen to him head upstairs.
He’d told me about the council meeting Tuesday while we were throwing together dinner last night. Katherine Carey is one piece of work. In return, I mentioned her forgetting my check and not answering my follow-up message and email, which Joe apparently already heard from Detective Blackthorn, who also told him about Josh being at the park. None of this pleased Joe, which is why he insisted being the one keeping an eye on me today.
Under any other circumstance, his protective—and dare I mention, bossy—streak might’ve ruffled my feathers, but since my life is feeling a mite out of control at the moment, I’m grateful to follow his determined lead on this.
This is also why I quickly grab myself some breakfast when I hear the shower start up. I’d rather be ready to go with him to the station than wait here by myself until he’s done.
-
“Olivia.”
I’m sitting in the back of what Joe calls the briefing room—fascinated with this real life peek at the goings on at the police station—when Keith Blackfoot walks in.
“Hi.”
“What did I miss?” he asks, taking the empty seat beside me.
“I have no idea,” I tell him honestly. “It’s all Greek to me.”
At Keith’s chuckle, Joe’s eyes shoot to the back of the room. “Now that we’re all here,” he says, taking a long look at Keith. “Let me summarize one last time.”
“Busted,” Keith whispers, and now it’s me trying to stifle a chuckle.
Five minutes later, Joe dismisses everyone. Keith gives my shoulder a squeeze and slips out, followed by a string of officers who each in turn throw me curious glances. Tony Ramirez is the only one who stops.
“Good to see my friend smartened up.” He grins down at me.
“Sorry?” I’m not sure what he’s talking about, which must show on my face.
“You came in with Joe, his hand on your back, so I’m guessing he got his shit together,” he explains. I’m not sure it’s helpful, but apparently he’s not done yet. “Saw him standing in his driveway, I know he’s got a tendency to be up in his head, figured I’d give him a push.”
My mind immediately goes back to Tuesday night, Joe watching—no, glaring—from across the street when Tony left my house. Right after he kissed me. On the cheek, but still.
“You did that on purpose,” I finally clue in, and the shit-eating grin on his face confirms it.
“Joe’s a good man, hasn’t had it easy—and I’m not just talking about after Jenny died. Would be a shame if guilt that’s not his to carry stops him from grabbing onto a good woman, right across the fucking road. Didn’t take him long to smarten up.”
Oh my God.
“You should’ve been on the road, Ramirez.” Joe walks up behind Tony, who doesn’t seem at all bothered at the angry scowl on his friend’s face.
“Just saying hi to Ollie, Chief. I’m on my way.” With a wink at me, he slips out the door.
He said a lot more than just hi, and although I don’t get all of it, it’s clear he likes the idea of Joe and me together. If I’m honest, I like it too.
I’ve been so focused on raising Trinny, and making a life for us, I’ve never really been in the market for anything serious. Oh, I’ve had a few men in my bed, but I can count those on one hand, and those were—without exception—singular incidents. Either by mutual agreement, or on my insistence. I’ve never really swung myself out there, preferred to play it safe, but I wouldn’t mind swinging for Joe.
“You’re quiet,” Joe observes as we walk to his SUV. “Tony say something to you?”
“Nope,” I lie, but I do it with a smile on my face. “Just saying hello.” He looks at me like he’s not buying, but doesn’t question me, just opens the door and helps me in. I wait until he rounds the hood and gets in behind the wheel. “Do we have time to hit up Starbucks? This is definitely a three coffee day.”
“We can stop at Durango Joe’s. It’s on the way.” He backs out of his parking spot and turns onto the road.
“In all the years I’ve lived here, I’ve never been in there. Is the coffee as good as Starbucks?”
Joe gives me a side-glance, before swinging his eyes back on the road with a grin on his face. “Better. So are the pastries.”
He’s not lying. The raspberry cheesecake muffin he picked me up is to die for, and I can’t help moan when I take a bite. The first sip of my coffee makes me an instant convert, and elicits a deep, satisfied sigh.
A muffled growl has me turn to Joe, who has his eyes on the road, but his lips are pressed tight.
“We won’t get to the park, you keep making noises like that.”
Joe
I know Katherine tagged us the moment I spot her and she does not look pleased.
Could be because I’m holding Ollie’s hand. I haven’t held anyone’s hand since Ryder decided he was too old for that. All I did was give her a hand getting out of the SUV; it’s a little high off the ground. I was going to let go, but she started walking and held on, slipping her fingers between mine.
“You go do your thing,” I bend down and mumble in her ear. “I need to have a word with Katherine.” I squeeze her hand and let go.
“Joe…” I hear the warning in her voice.
“It’s work, Ollie.”
Her eye-roll shows she’s not buying even a little bit, but she still heads off to talk to a guy I assume is her contractor. I walk in the other direction, straight to Katherine Carey.
“Cozy,” she comments when I get close, a sneer on her face. I ignore her and make a point of looking around.
“I see your son decided to stay away.”
Her eyes narrow on me. “He’s coming. He’s running late.”
“That’s unfortunate, Katherine. Given that he put his hands on Ollie uninvited a few days ago, making it necessary for her to shove him off, it would’ve been wiser to stay away.”
“How are you so sure it was uninvited? This may come as a surprise to you, but my boy is quite a catch: handsome, rich, and never short of female interest. He’s hard to resist,” she challenges me, a smirk on her face.
“For some perhaps, but I can assure you, Ollie Rizzo is not one of those women.”
“Sounds to me someone might be a tad worried about the competition.” She smiles smugly.
Jesus, the bitch is blind. I lean into her space and note her flinch at my close proximity. “There is no competition. I know this, because not only did I personally witness your son forcing his way into her house, something I could have charged him for on the spot…” I’m happy to see that point makes her eye twitch, but I’m not done. “But one of my men witnessed him putting his hands on her in this very parking lot, just three days ago, after her meeting with you. As I see it, you’ve been lucky Ollie hasn’t already filed charges against him, something I’m sure doesn’t come as a surprise to you—seeing as you’re holding her payment hostage.”
She feigns shock, pressing a hand flat to her chest and her eyes going wide. “Well, I never—”
“She emailed to remind you after you conveniently forgot her check, tried calling a few times, and finally left a message, none of which you responded—”
“I don’t see how this is any of your business,” she suddenly snaps.
“Ollie is my business, so I’m making this my business. I assume you forgot to bring her a check again today?” When her eyes slide away in the distance, I have my answer. “Right, so I’m here to tell you that unless Ms. Rizzo has the full amount owing her in her bank account by the end of business today, you leave me no choice but to reconsider letting your son off the hook too easily.”
“Are you threatening me?” Her voice is shrill as she pulls herself up to her full height.
