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

by Freya Barker

  “Yeah,” I whisper, answering the phone when I see Trinny’s name pop up on the screen, as I slip out of bed and make my way to the bathroom.

  “Do you know where my mom is?” There’s worry in her voice and I quickly reassure her.

  “She’s here and fine, girl. Her phone’s busted, which is why you can’t reach her. I should’ve left you a message.”

  “Can I talk to her?” Still a hint of concern, so I stick my head into the bedroom only to find Ollie hasn’t moved.

  “Sweetheart, it’s not even five in the morning yet. Your mom is out cold.”

  “Oh shit. She asked me to let her know if we got here okay. And we did—get here okay, I mean. The hotel is amazing and we were able to check in early. Which is a good thing, since we didn’t sleep much on the plane so everyone went down for a nap, but I remembered I had to call Mom,” she rambles on, making me smile. I’ve heard her mother do this. “Anyway, I forgot about the time difference. I’m so sorry, did I wake you?”

  “It’s fine,” I dismiss her concern. “Glad to know you got in okay and that the hotel is nice.”

  “Kim and me share a room, and we have our own bathroom. That’s where I am now, so Kim can sleep, and guess what?”

  I grin at the enthusiasm. It’s a side of Trinny I haven’t seen before. She’s normally fairly quiet, playing it cool, but now she sounds as wired as Ryder can get when he’s excited about something. “What?”

  “We can see the Arc de Triomphe from our room. Did you know traffic here is insane? There’s like, not one car without a dent. Oh, and the streets are much narrower, probably because the cars are smaller here.”

  “Probably,” I mumble in agreement, unable to hold back a yawn.

  “Oh shit, right, the time difference. Sorry.”

  “No worries, girl. Good to know you’re already having a good time. Moment your mom wakes up, I’ll get her to call you, yeah?” That is met with silence that lasts a while. “Trinny?”

  “Uhh…Joe?”

  “Still here, girl.”

  “Sooo, this is probably none of my business. In fact, I’m pretty sure it isn’t, but seeing as you’re there, with my mom, and I’m like, a gazillion miles away, I kinda worry about her.”

  “Promised you I’d look after her, honey.”

  “Yeah, I know, but I mean…are you and Mom a thing? Because Mom doesn’t really date—not much anyway. I can’t even remember her ever having a real boyfriend, but I’ve seen her looking at you, and I’m thinking it would really suck if she got hurt when I—”

  That’s where I cut off her ramble, because she just proved again she’s a really great kid, but she has no reason to worry. “Trinny, she’s not gonna get hurt. I’m looking after her.”

  “Okay, but—”

  I take a deep breath in and roll my eyes to the ceiling, because it’s clear the Rizzo women don’t just both have a tendency to ramble, they both are tenacious as well. “No buts about it. Now I’ll let you in on something I wouldn’t normally share with her kid—I’m only doing it because you’re thousands of miles away and worried—but have you seen me look at your mom?”

  It takes her a while, but I finally hear the penny dropping when she takes a sharp breath in. “Oh.”

  “Yeah. So to make myself even clearer, though we’re not really a thing yet, I’m looking to change that.”

  “Cool,” she whispers and the grin is back on my face. She’s a really good kid.

  “Right. Still only ten past five, Trinny.”

  “Oops. I’ll let you go. Night.” This time I can hear the smile in her voice, and even though I likely won’t get back to sleep, I’m glad now her mind is settled, maybe she can.

  “Night, honey.”

  Ollie

  It’s early. Watered down sunlight is just starting to slip through the blinds.

  I’m still in the clothes I had on last night and my residual limb is killing me. Apparently Joe managed to get me in bed last night but stopped there.

  I sneak a peek beside me, where I hear the deep breathing of someone sleeping. Looks like Joe did get himself undressed. His broad back is turned to me. The covers are caught low on his hip and all I see is skin. I blow out a soft breath, wondering if he’s naked under the covers and I battle the urge to run a hand down his spine to find out.

  He lets out a slight snore and moves his legs, startling me. I quickly slip out of bed, biting my lip at the stab of pain when my weight lands on my stump. I grab a few clean clothes from the bags Dylan brought over, and move as soundlessly as I can to the bathroom. There I strip, take off my leg, and do a quick wash at the sink. Dressing in my comfy lounge pants, I tie a knot in one leg, and pull on an old T-shirt. Then I sneak out the hall door and head downstairs on my ass. It takes me a minute to locate my crutch, leaning against the couch where Dylan left it.

  Bugsy must’ve heard me because he’s already whining by the sliding back door. Disarming Joe’s alarm like he showed me Friday, I let the dog out. A few minutes later, I follow him with a mug of fresh brewed coffee and sit down on one of the loungers, breathing deeply of the crisp morning air. Not even a minute after that I hear the sliding door open behind me.

  “Mornin’”

  I swing my head around and am almost sad to see Joe donned a shirt and shorts before coming down. “Morning. Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

  “Felt you roll out of bed,” he mumbles, bending down and planting an unexpected, and all too brief, kiss on my lips. “Waited for a bit, hoping you’d come back.”

  My still slumbering synapses jolt alive at his innuendo, zapping electric charges through me at the visual it creates. I usually need more than just verbal stimulation for my body to respond, but I’m pretty sure I just creamed my panties. Therefore, it takes me a moment to react, and when I do, the only thing I can come up with is, “Coffee?”

  Judging from the way his eyes turn to molten steel, Joe did not miss my physical response and I can feel his lazy, “Yeah,” between my legs. Even as he bends down to give the dog some morning loving, I can feel his eyes follow me all the way inside.

  There is no hot and cold this morning, just hot and hotter.

  In an effort to cool myself down, I open his fridge to take stock of breakfast options—bacon and eggs it is—before getting him his coffee. When I hit the deck, I see Joe’s rearranged the furniture, so that the two loungers are now sitting side by side. Bugsy has taken residence at Joe’s feet in one of them. Feet that are bare, and unusually attractive, given they have to be my least favorite part of the human body.

  I give him his coffee and prepare to head straight back inside to get started on breakfast, when his hand darts out and grabs mine.

  “Sit.”

  “But I was going to—”

  “Sit,” he repeats, pulling me down. “Your girl called this morning.”

  “Trinny?”

  “Forgot about the time difference, so it was a little before five. She was worried when she couldn’t get you on your phone. Told her your phone is busted, you were sleeping but would call her back.”

  “How was her flight? Did they get to the hotel okay? Did she say anything?”

  Joe looks amused as he pulls his cell from his shorts and hands it to me. “Call her and find out. I got the story this morning, but I’m sure she’d rather be telling you herself.”

  I don’t hesitate and dial, a big smile hitting my face when the call is answered with a “Momma! Guess what?”

  “Hey, baby—what?”

  While Trinny jabbers excitedly in my ear, Joe gets up from his chair, bends over to drop a kiss on my head—nice—and heads inside.

  Twenty minutes later when I end the call, after a detailed report of all things amazing about Paris from my daughter and a promise to call her again in a few days, I find Joe in the kitchen, sliding scrambled eggs and bacon on plates.

  Yes, seriously nice.

  -

  “I’m guessing that’s good news?”

&nb
sp; Joe enters the front door, back from walking the dog, and catches me doing an excited fist pump after finding my bank account grown from the sparse double numbers to a glorious five-digit balance. I slap his laptop shut and turn around.

  “Katherine came through,” I inform him with a big smile on my face. His face immediately breaks open in a matching one.

  “That is good news.” I watch as he takes off the dog’s leash, hangs it on the hook beside the door, and stalks over to the sectional, leaning his hands on the backrest behind me. Since my eyes never left his, my head is now tilted all the way back, and he doesn’t hesitate to take advantage, dropping his mouth to mine. “Really good news,” he mumbles, his lips against mine.

  So easy. With all the shit coming down in my life currently, whatever is happening between Joe and me seems so effortless I should probably be alarmed. If I’ve learned anything in my life, it’s that very little comes easy, but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the moment. Which I am, as he leaves my mouth, kisses the tip of my nose, and lifts his head. Even upside down Joe makes an attractive picture.

  “We should talk.”

  Three words that rarely come with a positive follow-through, and thus snap me right out of my momentary mindless bliss. That didn’t take long.

  “About what?” I ask, as he rounds the couch and plops down right beside me, hip to hip.

  “Did you manage to postpone your appointment and contact all your clients?”

  I did, although I hated that the next opening at the Hanger Prosthetic Clinic was not until August sixth. I did ask to be put on the waiting list for any earlier cancellations, but I’m not holding my breath. I’ll have to suck it up until then.

  As for my clients, I just had the one project scheduled to start this coming week. I called her first; explaining I needed to move it back by two to three weeks so I could take a much-needed vacation. She hadn’t exactly been thrilled, but was nevertheless understanding. The others weren’t scheduled to start until the beginning of July anyway, which meant I’d probably have to juggle jobs for a while, but since I’d have time on my hands I could get a head start on the drawings. “Yes,” I confirm before repeating, “Talk to me about what?”

  “Right.” He pulls up a knee and shifts in his seat so he’s facing me. “First off, my house is set back a bit from the others, so the deck is only visible from the water, but I still want you to be aware when you go out there. The moment you step down into the garden, though, the neighbors will be able to see you. Which means you stay out of there.”

  “Gotcha.” It sucks, because I would love to get my hands on his neglected flowerbeds and had hoped that might be a way to pass the time, but I can see his point.

  “Having said that, during the week they’re usually gone by eight in the morning and don’t get home until after five, in case you feel the urge to pretty up my yard. Just make sure to see their cars aren’t in the driveway.”

  “I can do that,” I promise with far more enthusiasm, something that doesn’t escape Joe. He throws me a lopsided grip before his face turns serious again.

  “Now, aside from Grace, you’ve got more friends? Friends you are in regular contact with?”

  “Not really.” I realize as I’m answering how pathetic that is. It’s not that I’m not friendly with a bunch of people—clients, parents of Trinny’s friends, the barista at Starbucks—I’ve just never cultivated anything more than that. Except with Grace. Forty years of living netted me exactly one friend: one almost twice my age. “I’ve just never really had the time, you know. Single mom trying to build a business and all that. And Grace…well, Grace has always been right there.”

  Joe targets an assessing look at me. I’m not exactly sure what he’s conveying with his eyes, but it makes my stomach feel funny. “Under the radar,” he mumbles.

  “Sorry?” I feign ignorance but I’m not stupid, I know what he’s referring.

  Another example to show the man’s not only smart; he’s insightful and emotionally intelligent as well. As he confirms with his next words. “You, years of staying under the radar. Probably second nature by now, avoiding any close connections, and I bet you’ve perfected that with time.”

  I don’t really have anything to say to that. It’s true—I have—which is why it’s surprising I seem to have formed a bond with him. I wonder if I would have, had I not found myself in the predicament I’m in.

  “Safer that way,” I give him, and he takes it with a nod of understanding.

  Reaching out to ghost his fingers along my jaw, he adds words. “I get it. Sorry as I am you missed out on that in your life, right now it’s to your advantage.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “Now you only have one person to convince you’ll be out of reach for the next few weeks.”

  I see with sudden clarity where he’s going with this, and it does not make me happy.

  “Grace has a standing appointment with her hairdresser every second Saturday of the month I take her to, and not once in the almost eighteen years I’ve known her, have we missed our monthly dinner date. Aside from that, we talk regularly.” I lean forward to emphasize my words “I mean regularly, like three or four times a week. We’re tight, I check in to see how she’s doing, she calls me to do the same, maybe give me a list of things to pick her up next time I’m in the store.”

  “Ollie, I can do—” he starts in a placating tone that does nothing to smooth my ruffled feathers or my building agitation.

  “No, you don’t understand: it’s not that I can’t do without her—it’s that she’s lost without me. I’m all she has.”

  In the silence that follows, his nose flares, mouth turns firm, and a muscle starts twitching in his jaw. When I take in a heaving breath, his gaze drops down to my chest.

  “Fuck me,” he mutters, before closing his eyes. “Contact with you makes her vulnerable. Sharing your situation with her, makes her vulnerable.”

  “She’s not going to buy into me off on an impromptu road trip, Joe. That’s just not going to fly. She may not know everything about me, but that woman knows me better than anyone.” I realize that statement may no longer hold true, so I add, “Until now.”

  His eyes come up. Soft despite the terse tone of his voice. “So what do you suggest?”

  “Bring her here and we’ll talk to her, explain things. I’ll still be able to check in with her regularly, and if she needs anything maybe you can pick it up at the store.”

  His hand snakes out and tags me behind the neck, pulling me close. “We’ll play it your way,” he concedes. “See if she’s available tonight, I’ve got enough brats for the grill.” The entire time his eyes never leave my mouth. “But first…”

  He doesn’t even bother finishing the sentence before his mouth slants over mine and I find myself twisted under him, my back to the seat and his large body covering mine.

  His kiss isn’t just hot; it’s voracious. Gone is the gentle giant: his mouth ravenous and his hands firm—even rough—as he slides one into my waistband, clasping my ass, and the other shoves under my shirt and bra, working my breast with his palm and fingers.

  Mine are much the same, plucking at clothes and squeezing flesh.

  When he wedges his hips between my legs, and grinds his hard length against my heated core, I moan into his mouth.

  It’s wild, it’s out of control, and it’s absolutely phenomenal.

  Chapter 18

  Joe

  “Are you gonna tell me why I’m missin’ my Sunday night Bingo game?”

  I look over at Grace, who is staring back with one pencilled-on eyebrow raised high. I barely pulled out of the driveway at the seniors’ home. That didn’t take long.

  “Ollie just—”

  She shakes her head sharply. “Don’t you try to sell some more’a that hogwash story Ollie tried to pawn off on me, ‘cause I ain’t buyin’.”

  I turn my eyes back on the road, and blow out a deep breath. “We’ll explain when we get to my
place.”

  “Something happened to that precious girl?”

  “Trinny? No, Grace, she’s fine. Ollie talked to her this morning. Just hang tight.”

  She grunts and folds her arms over her ample bosom. It’s promising to be a long night, and I have plans that do not involve Grace.

  Ollie surprised me. She ignited the moment my lips touched hers. I bet I still have marks from where her nails dug into my shoulder. Fuck, I was seconds from taking her on my couch when Cruz called.

  Thank God this time it wasn’t bad news, although I could see Ollie brace for it when she clued in who was calling. Cruz reported Rizzoli came through surgery, and despite still being considered critical, at least he now has a fighting chance. As soon as it’s safe to do so, the FBI plans to move him into a private facility and release a statement he didn’t survive.

  The other piece of good news was a partial print they found at Cindy Warner’s place, Rizzoli’s secretary. The print belongs to one John Trivisonno, apparently, a usual suspect for the San Antonio police department in a number of violent crimes. He somehow managed to walk away each time with the aid of none other than Christian Rizzoli as his legal counsel. Guess it’s true what they say: no good deed goes unpunished.

  The rest of our afternoon—before I left to pick up Grace—was spent getting ready, which meant Ollie was in the kitchen cooking up a storm, and I mounted hooks to hang bikes, sports equipment and other items that had accumulated in my garage. Which is why I’m able to pull right into it when I turn onto the driveway.

  “Hey, Grace,” Ollie greets her when we walk in the door after a long silent drive with Grace fuming in the passenger seat and me lost in thought.

  She accepts Ollie’s hug with barely contained impatience. “This better be good. Tonight was my night to take the Bingo Queen title from that ho, Lettie Driver, from the third floor. Bought all new dabbers for it too,” she grumbles, and I press my lips together to stop from laughing out loud.