by BJ Bentley
Three blocks away and two Purple Motherfuckers for Maya and two vodka cranberries for Ashley later, the three of us were out on the dance floor. Hooligan’s wasn’t the kind of bar known for its dance scene, mainly because it didn’t have a dance scene. So Maya dragged us to another bar down the street, one that had just recently opened and catered more to the post-college crowd, young professionals who had outgrown the sloppy drunk phase but still young enough to cut loose on the weekends.
The three of us formed a relatively tight circle in the middle of the crowd, not letting anyone else into our space as we lifted our hands in the air and shook our butts to the rhythm of a Bruno Mars song. We were in the zone, feeling every beat of the music, lost in the safety of female camaraderie. Or so it seemed. None of us forgot our surroundings, we were all conditioned --in one way or another-- not to let our guards down.
Which was why, when unwelcome guy number one began grinding on Ashley, she instinctively swung an arm down and nailed him in the nuts with her small but mighty fist. Maya and I immediately flanked her, ready to defend and/or scratch a jerk’s eyes out if necessary.
It wasn’t necessary. The idiot stumbled his way to the bar, hunched over and crying for his mama.
Our groove disrupted, we decided to call it a night. We linked hands, and I, being the sober one, led us out the door and into the cool night air.
“We need to do this more often!” Maya yelled, making Ashley giggle.
“Quiet, Maya, before Poppy arrests us for public drunkenness,” Ashley stage-whispered before burping and erupting into a fit of laughter.
I shook my head, smiling, at the both of them. I ushered them into the backseat of my Prius, both of them now firmly in the clingy stage of drunkenness, refusing to let go of one another. I had a difficult time folding them in when they resisted dropping their arms from one another’s waist.
With Ashley and Maya huddled together in the backseat and some nineties alternative rock playing low on the radio, I drove us back toward Aspen Falls. It was a beautiful night for a drive; the sky was clear so that the stars sparkled, shining down like spotlights on the earth. There wasn’t much traffic on the last ten mile stretch of road leading into town, so between the soft music and the sleepy whispers of my friends, it was easy to relax into my seat and coast along until we hit the ornately carved Welcome to Aspen Falls sign that marked the town limits. Unfortunately, my sense of security turned out to be false.
With an unexpected series of loud pops, my Prius jerked to the right. A scream and a growly what the fuck came from the back seat as I tried to correct our trajectory without spinning completely out of control. A dark colored SUV sped past us on the left, one long arm extended through the passenger side window, and at the end of it, the glint of a gun.
“Fuck!” I bit out, slamming on the breaks and letting the SUV fly by. It was the first swear word I’d uttered in ten years. My mom hated it, so I was careful not to do it around her, and even after her death, I couldn’t bring myself to curse. But if any situation warranted a little potty mouth, it was this one. “Get down!” I ordered my passengers, Ashley in tears and Maya swearing up a storm. The car skidded to a stop, half in a ditch, half still on the road, but all in one piece as far as I could tell. Well, except for the tire I was sure was blown. I reached for my gun first, the off-duty weapon I kept in my glove box. The .9 millimeter Smith & Wesson had been a practical, yet unused except at the shooting range, sixteenth birthday gift from my dad and something he’d insisted I learn inside and out. I could disassemble, clean, and reassemble it in my sleep.
Peering out the windshield, I could no longer see the taillights of the SUV as it disappeared around a bend in the two-lane stretch of asphalt. Still, I gripped my gun in one hand and dialed dispatch with the other, barely glancing at my cell as I did.
“Poppy?” Ashley’s tearful whisper barely registered.
“Shh, Ash, it’s gonna be okay,” I said in what Heath referred to as my cop voice, firm but gentle.
My eyes swept the empty road as I waited for dispatch to pick up. On the third ring, I heard a familiar voice.
“Aspen Falls Police Department, this is Angela.”
“Angie,” I greeted. “This is Officer Leighton, badge number five-oh-two-five. Shots fired on Route 199, eastbound, just past-” I paused to squint at the green and white sign posted on the side of the road, “mile marker forty-seven.”
“Officer involved?” Angie barked.
“Off-duty. No injuries,” I assured her. Angie wasn’t just a colleague, she was Heath’s high school sweetheart. They’d parted on good terms when they went to college, and Angie and I kept in touch over the years.
“I’m dispatching a unit to you as we speak,” Angie said then muttered, “Your brother’s gonna shit his britches.”
“Dispatch,” I warned, unable to control the wobble in my voice as I suppressed my chuckle. Since all dispatch calls were recorded, Angie’s comment was something that would likely get her razzed if not formally reprimanded.
I signed off, disconnected the call, and bent over to stick my head in the car. “You two okay?” I asked, still using my cop voice.
“Yeah,” they both said in unison, and I was grateful to see that Ashley had stopped crying. They still had their arms around each other, and at that moment, I wished I was huddled up with them. If I could have crawled into the backseat and hugged them both, I would have, but I had to wait for whomever Angie dispatched to come to our rescue. “There’s a unit on the way. I promise to get you both home safely.”
“We know you will, Poppy-girl,” Maya said, now completely calm, probably just as much for Ashley’s sake as much as it was her nature. Maya could be a drama queen when she wanted to be, but she was a rock in times of crisis.
It took ten minutes for the Aspen Falls PD patrol car to make its way to us. But it didn’t come alone. An ambulance was dispatched despite the fact that I’d reported no injuries. And there were two unmarked cars, only one of which I recognized, hot on the cruiser’s tail.
Heath.
I rolled my eyes. Of course big brother would come to check on me. He was supposed to be at home with his wife, Amelia. My sister-in-law was seven months pregnant and barely saw her husband as it was, for as much as he worked. Now, he was out here checking on me, unnecessarily, when he should be at home rubbing his wife’s feet or spoon-feeding her ice cream or something.
The cruiser pulled up alongside us, and a handsome, young officer, almost as new to the force as I was, climbed out.
“Hey, Micah.” I waved.
“Jesus, Poppy, you okay?” His long legs ate up the distance between our vehicles. Micah was tall and wiry. He’d been a year ahead of me at the academy, and I’d always liked him. He was as smart as he was compassionate, exactly what a cop should be.
“I’m fine. We’re all good.” I swept out an arm to indicate my passengers who had finally let go of one another to exit the Prius and join us on the dark road.
“Tell me what happened.”
I started to run through what I remembered while he took notes. I just didn’t get very far before Heath stormed onto the scene with Vance, of all people, hot on his heels.
“Pop, what the fuck?” Heath demanded to know, encircling me in his thick arms.
“I’m fine,” I groused, peeling myself out of his bear hug.
“You sure about that, rookie?” Vance all but shouldered Heath out of the way to stand in front of me.
“Trying to take a statement here,” Micah muttered but was ignored.
“What are you even doing here?” I demanded.
He moved in, crowding me up against the rear end of my car, the part of it that was still on the road, and lowered his head and his voice. “I was on my way home when I heard dispatch on the radio. Had a gut feeling, like acid burning through my insides, so I gave Angie a call. She confirmed it was you, and I swear, never in all my life have I been so fuckin’ terrified,” he bit out between clenche
d teeth.
His intensity scared me and, I was ashamed to say, aroused me.
“Brody, you wanna back off my sister?” Heath’s question was really more of a demand, but it was one that neither of us paid any heed.
I was aware of my breath, coming in short pants, my breasts swollen and heaving against the fabric of my t-shirt. Vance’s eyes dipped briefly, no doubt taking in my hardened nipples and heaving chest, before moving his gaze back to my face.
“You okay?” he asked softly.
Clearly, I was, so I informed him of as much.
“Your girls?”
“Both fine.”
“Detective Brody,” Micah broke in, “if I could just finish getting Poppy’s statement, we could get the women back home. I’m sure they’re missing their beds.”
Vance clenched his jaw and screwed his eyes shut, blowing a harsh breath out through his nose. “Fine.” But instead of backing off, he sidestepped and turned so he was standing shoulder to shoulder with me, facing Micah, an annoyed Heath, and a curiously amused pair of EMTs.
Eager to get the ridiculous display of testosterone over with, I rapidly answered Micah’s remaining questions and ushered a protesting Ashley and Maya over to the EMTs to be looked over. Once they’d both been cleared and declined transport to the hospital, I asked Micah for a ride home, which seemed to piss off both Heath and Vance.
“I can take you,” Heath said at the same time Vance said, “Ride with me.”
The two men glared at each other until Maya broke the stalemate. “Heath, if you could give Ashley and me a ride, that would be wonderful.” She flashed him a smile. “I’m sure Vance will get our Poppy-girl home safely.”
The look she shot me was conniving, and if I didn’t love her so much, I might have considered shooting her. But with my adrenaline crashing and the long work week catching up to me, I didn’t have it in me to argue. “Sounds like a plan,” I agreed.
Heath’s expression said we’d be discussing this later but at that point, I couldn’t care less. Bring it, big bro. Right after I’ve had some sleep.
I waved my girls off, promising to call and check on them both the next day, before climbing into Vance’s car.
“Buckle up, baby,” he muttered, turning over the engine.
I did and was fast asleep before he finished executing a K turn.
9
Vance
I woke up when a laser beam hit me right between the eyes. Oh, wait, that was the sun shining between the royal blue curtains of a living room that didn’t belong to me. I stretched and swung my legs over the side of Poppy’s couch, sitting up and groaning at the twinge in my lower back. It wasn’t the worst thing I’d ever slept on, but it certainly wasn’t the caliber of Colin’s couch, either.
Plus, it was peach.
Yeah, peach. The entire living room was decorated in a royal blue and peach color scheme. I wouldn’t go so far as to call it ugly. In fact, it was actually kind of pretty, if overtly feminine. It just wasn’t me. Then again, my decor consisted of whatever was comfortable and cheap, some of it secondhand if it was in good condition. And I didn’t decorate at all, so my bachelor pad was purely functional. At least Poppy’s place had personality.
I shuffled into the kitchen and sighed in relief when I spied a full canister of coffee sitting next to the coffee pot. She had one of those single-serve coffeemakers that most people used these days in place of a full carafe, which I supposed made sense for a single woman, but my groggy ass would have drunk a whole pot if I’d had one. Instead, I filled the reusable pod and popped it in to brew. A minute later, I was raising a steaming cup of black coffee to my face and inhaling the only thing that could prompt me to fully open my eyes at that hour.
I sipped my drug of choice as I helped myself to a tour of Poppy’s home. I’d already seen the upstairs the night before when I’d carried a passed out Poppy up to bed and tucked her in. After that, I’d found the bathroom and the couch in the living room where I’d crashed. The kitchen was pretty self-explanatory, but still, I took the time to poke my head in her fridge and the small pantry thinking maybe I could throw some breakfast together while I enjoyed coffee number two in about ten minutes.
In the meantime, I was going to savor cup number one while I relaxed on the couch. With my feet up and my head back, I closed my eyes and thought back about twelve hours. I’d told Poppy I’d been on my way home when I’d heard the call come through dispatch, and that was true enough, but what I left out was that I’d been on my way home from a bar I’d heard was frequented by the dickhead who’d assaulted Maya. Technically, it wasn’t my case; it was Poppy’s, so I hadn’t been there in any kind of official capacity. It was ridiculously easy to find the information I’d needed that led me to him. He wasn’t a popular guy, and his reputation for being a bigot and all-around jackass was apparently widespread. People were practically gagging to point their fingers in his direction.
When I caught up with him, I’d pointed more than my finger. I’d used my fist. Shame coiled in my belly at the thought. Everything I stood for, everything that my badge represented --something that I wore with pride-- was tarnished every time I took justice into my own hands. But oftentimes the wheels of justice moved slowly, or sometimes, not at all. And nobody deserved what Maya went through. If it taught the fucker a lesson and it spared even one person from that asshole’s hatred, it was worth it. It had to be.
“Don’t move.”
My eyes still closed, I smiled at the steely warning. “Good morning, rookie. Sleep well?”
“Vance?”
I turned my head to look over the back of the couch and found a tantalizingly disheveled Poppy aiming a gun at my face. “Are you aiming a weapon at me?”
She blinked. Looked at her gun. “Oh.” She lowered her arms, turned on a heel, and walked into the kitchen. “I need coffee,” she muttered as she went.
She was dressed in a mismatched pajama set, the shorts had little peaches all over them, and her oversized cream-colored t-shirt hung off one shoulder, exposing charmingly freckled skin.
I wanted to touch it.
I wanted to touch her.
Fuck.
Suddenly, I found myself standing directly behind her with no recollection of how I got there, the sight of her bare skin drawing me in like a magnet. The sleepy softness of her expression made her look younger, more vulnerable.
My fingertips grazed the slight crease in her cheek from her pillow. Poppy was apparently a right-side sleeper.
She froze, the empty coffee mug in her hand poised in mid-air.
I traced the mark on her face, letting my fingers trail over her jaw, under her ear, and down her neck.
A shiver wracked her body, but she otherwise didn’t move. Nor did she speak. The skin of her shoulder felt as soft as it looked, maybe more so. I played connect-the-dots with her freckles, fascinated with the patterns I imagined were hidden in her skin.
The slamming of a door jolted us both, Poppy losing her grip on the mug, which went crashing into the sink.
“Damn it,” she hissed, reaching in to pick up the broken pieces.
“What the fuck is this?”
We both turned, our heads jerking back in surprise that it had taken us that long to realize the slamming we’d heard had been Poppy’s front door and that someone had entered her home.
Surprise that that person happened to be her brother.
“Don’t you know how to knock?” Poppy snapped.
“Fuck knocking, Pop, what’s he doing here?” Heath bit out, ignoring me to focus his annoyance on his sister.
I crossed my arms and leaned back against the counter, making myself comfortable and undoubtedly annoying Heath further. I smiled watching the muscle in his jaw tick.
“How is that any of your business?” All signs of sleepy, vulnerable Poppy were gone. Firecracker Poppy was in full effect. “In case you’ve forgotten, big brother, my friends and I were shot at last night--”
The air
in the room went wired. Shit. So wrapped up in everything that was Poppy this morning, I’d completely forgotten about the events that landed me on her couch in the first place. Okay, I hadn’t really forgotten, but I’d willfully swept them aside in order to focus on more pleasant thoughts. Like what the rest of Poppy’s skin must look like under those silly pajamas.
Heath cracked a knuckle. “I hadn’t forgotten,” he said in a voice far more gentle than the expression on his face would have indicated. “That’s why I’m here. To check on you.”
“I’m fine,” Poppy said just as softly.
“What do we know?” I broke in.
“Where did you sleep?” he volleyed.
Poppy gasped.
“On the couch.” Dick. I understood why he didn’t like the idea of me with his sister, for both professional and personal reasons, but I didn’t like him embarrassing Poppy with his rude question any more than I appreciated him throwing his weight around and getting in my face about it.
Heath’s gaze shot to the couch where he spied my boots on the floor and the quilt I’d neglected to fold when I got up. Seemingly satisfied with the evidence, his shoulders relaxed. Slightly. “Traffic cam caught a dark colored SUV at the intersection of Broadway and Division that we think might be our shooter. The partial plate number that Pop was able to give Micah matches, so we’re gonna follow up on that.”
“That’s it? That’s all we’ve got?”
“No,” Heath growled. “We’ve also got patrol making regular drive-bys when you’re home,” he informed Poppy.
My eyebrows shot to my hairline. “Cap authorized that?”
Heath shifted on his feet. “Not exactly,” he muttered.
“Jesus,” I laughed. “Heath Leighton, you rebel, you.”
“That’s not necessary,” Poppy spoke up. “It was just some jerk wads out joyriding and shooting off their guns in an attempt to prove who has the biggest penis,” she huffed. “Spoiler alert, none of them have a penis,” she muttered, rolling her eyes.
