The Code Enforcer

by Valerie J. Clarizio

  She moved the basket closer to him, and her smile widened. A genuine smile that sent his heart racing.

  He took the basket from her, set a couple of poppers on his plate and then passed it along.

  Moments later, Sarah returned and set his frosty mug in front of him along with a folded-up piece of paper. She winked, spun, and sashayed away, her full hips swinging flirtatiously. Sarah was a pretty, full-figured woman who definitely knew how to work the crowd for tips, but she’d never really hit on him in the past.

  His gaze returned the small, white piece of paper lying next to his beer. Curiosity got the best of him.

  “You never have a tough time with the ladies, do you?” Clayton joked as he reached over and slapped him on his shoulder blade. "I'm jealous. Us short, chubby guys have to work a lot harder to garner the attention of the beauties," the stocky man added with a chuckle.

  Instantaneously, he looked at Markie. No trace of the warm smile that had been on her face seconds ago remained. Sadly, it was replaced with a thin line. After a couple of beats, she averted her eyes.

  Disappointment raked through him. Deep down, he knew Markie thought of him as a player, and though that was safer for him, he didn’t like it. With each passing day, he wanted even more for her to like him—not think of him as a selfish, womanizer. But, intentionally keeping her on the other side of the barrier he built around himself, at her own choice, was safer for him and her. That way he’d never be given the opportunity to disappoint her—let her down. Yes, the timing of a note from Sarah was perfect, because that look he and Markie shared over the basket of poppers was too inviting—compelling to the point where he wanted to demolish those protective walls surrounding him.

  To fortify his walls of defense, he looked at the chunky man with curious eyes sitting beside him, pulled a wicked smile, and unfolded the note from Sarah.

  The weighty man grunted as he leaned over to take a peak but Bryce quickly folded the note again so he couldn’t see the words scribbled out.

  “Come on. You’re not going to share it with us?” Clayton asked while the other men at the table chimed in wanting the scoop.

  He tucked the note into his shirt pocket, disregarding the men's heckles. But he couldn’t ignore the complete look of disdain on Markie’s face. He should be happy, he got the exact result he wanted from her.

  So why did he feel like such a heel and disheartened?

  What was even more disappointing was what the note said. I know you’re with that whore you cheating asshole!

  The note certainly wasn't from Sarah.

  Bryce swung his gaze around the room expecting to see Tiana perched on a stool somewhere, but he didn’t. Yet, somehow she knew he sat across the table from Markie, and he already knew what she thought of her.

  Later, just to be sure, he’d have to ask the waitress who gave her the paper to deliver. But for now, he’d let everyone believe what they all assumed, that it was Sarah’s number or something similar. He wondered if she knew what was on the note or if she just delivered it.

  MARKIE EYED BRYCE’S hand as he patted his shirt pocket where he’d placed the note from Sarah. His self-assured smile irritated her. Had every female in this town dated him at some point?

  What struck her odd though was the brief look of distress that flashed through his eyes as he read the note. When he realized everyone's attention was focused on him, the look quickly transitioned to his usual overly-confident one she’d grown to despise. What did the note say to cause a concerned look, though only temporarily?

  The mysteries of Bryce intrigued her more and more every day. She began to think he wanted everyone to think he was something he wasn’t. His words, and larger actions sent one message, but his eyes and the small things he did sent another. His fingers patting his pocket didn’t send the same message his concerned gaze sent.

  Sarah delivered another round of beers, giving no special treatment to Bryce this time, and vice versa, causing Markie to want to see that note even more.

  It didn’t take long for the conversation to turn to the murders of Sister Ann and Edwin Hulbert. Bryce’s jaw tensed and a muscle above his right eyebrow pulsed. He gripped the handle of his beer mug and took a long swig. His knuckles turned white.

  Markie felt sorry for him. Not only did it look bad that two people he knew were murdered, he genuinely grieved the loss of Old Hulbert.

  The non-law enforcement people at the table, other than Bryce, offered their theories about who could have committed the murders and why. She, Captain Tomie, and Chief Bosley listened attentively. Maybe their theories would spark something.

  “Bryce, I’d like to hear your thoughts?” Tomie cut in.

  He studied the former Marine for a few beats before the man spoke again. “I’m serious. With your background and education, I’d like to hear what you think.”

  His background and education? What did being a Marine and holding a degree in Public Administration have to do with investigating murders? Markie couldn't help but wonder.

  The sheepish look on Bryce’s face was out of the norm.

  “I don’t really have anything. It’s just unfortunate."

  "That's crap. What do you think?" Captain pushed.

  Bryce leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. "I've only lived here a couple of years so I don't know everyone like you guys do, so I have no idea if there could be a connection between the nun and Edwin. Are they related? Did they go to the same school or church?"

  "We didn't find a lineage connection, and I don't know where, or if, Edwin was a church goer. The only connection we have so far is they were both prop..."

  "Property maintenance issues for the city. Code violators. Subjects I was working with," Bryce finished for the captain.

  Tomie nodded along with the chief and everyone else at the table.

  "Yeah, that's about all we have right now," Captain replied as his gaze cut over to her. "But Markie's on it so I'm sure we'll get some answers soon."

  Pride sifted through her at the conviction in the captain's tone when he spoke of her.

  "I'll do my best," she replied.

  "I know you will," he replied before swinging his gaze back to Bryce. "So, any thoughts?"

  Markie wondered if Bryce realized his hand had drifted back to his shirt pocked where he'd stuffed the note from the waitress. Did something in that note provide a theory—suspect for Bryce. She considered point blank asking, but the tight set of his jaw, and clouded eyes indicated he would offer nothing at all, especially about the note.

  "Sorry, sir, I've got nothing," Bryce said before he grabbed his mug and took another swig, draining it dry.

  Sir. Of course that's what he'd call a former Marine officer.

  "Well, if you think of anything let me know," Captain replied, letting Bryce off the hook.

  The waitress came by and swiped Bryce's mug off the table. "Want another?"

  "No. I'll take a Jack and Coke instead."

  Hitting the hard stuff. Who could blame him after the week he'd had.

  Bryce caught her stare. "I walked here."

  "I didn't say a word," Markie replied.

  "The disapproving look on your face said enough," he snapped back.

  She felt Captain Tomie's gaze burning a hole in her, and she risked a glance in his direction. His hushing look silenced her.

  Clayton and both the fire and police chiefs finished their beers and left. About five minutes later, Captain Tomie, Building Inspector Franke, and Assessor Lutz followed suit, leaving only her and Bryce at the table. They sat in uncomfortable silence. Markie milked her beer. She could certainly use another one, but she needed to drive so two was her limit.

  "You don't need to sit here and babysit me. I'm fine," he blurted coldly. "Or, are you here to make sure I don't kill any more of my code violators?"

  "I'm not babysitting you, nor are you a suspect. I'm just...I'm just having a beer with a co-worker, but if you don't become better company you will be
sitting here by yourself."

  "That's the way I prefer it."

  "Why are you being such an asshole when I'm trying to be nice to you?"

  "Nice? You think you're being nice? Sorry, but I think you need to work on your soft skills, and need to do a better job of getting control of your body language if you want to come off as a nice, concerned friend."

  He was really starting to irritate her.

  "When did you become a body language expert?"

  "I didn't say I was, but yours is so transparent it's kind of hard to misinterpret."

  Wasn't that interesting? Little did he know she was apparently a master at disguising her body language. Her heart ached for him, yet right now, he seemed to be under the impression she was judging—already sentencing him for the murders of Sister and Edwin. Or, was he reading her correctly, and this effort by him was the classic attempt to push her away—push away anyone who tried to help him?

  Markie willed her tense muscles to relax as she tried to figure out a way to turn this conversation around. "My apologies. The job hardens a person. Makes us skeptical. I don't believe you had anything to do with the murders of Sister and Edwin, and I don't care how much you drink. I just wanted to come out and have a couple of drinks with some friends to help unwind after a pretty tough week."

  His gaze landed on the table top. "Me, too."

  After a few moments of silence, Lori Holloway flitted up to the table. "Hi, Markie. Hi Bryce. Mind if I join you?"

  Actually, she did mind. Lori was nice enough, but she'd hoped to use this time to get to know Bryce better, find out more about him and why he behaved the way he did. Lori would just get in the way of that.

  Bryce stood and pulled out the chair next to him for the woman to sit.

  She sat and set her drink on the table. "Busy in here tonight," the woman commented as she smiled and looked adoringly at him.

  Bryce returned her smile, but his gaze did not match Lori's. His was more of a friendly acknowledgment. Hmm, so this one didn't do anything for the man. Interesting, but good.

  Markie eyed her empty glass. She should leave, but her feet felt as heavy as cinderblocks, and curiosity kept her weighted down in her chair. Maybe if Bryce had enough alcohol his tongue would loosen about his life.

  "Do you want another drink?" the waitress asked as she reached down and snatched Markie's glass.

  "No thanks."

  The waitress nodded and hustled away.

  Markie sat quietly, listening to Bryce and Lori chat about their dart league and some upcoming community events they'd planned to attend. The desperate woman threw out vibe after vibe to draw deeper attention from Bryce, but his good defense kept her at arm's length and in the dreaded friend zone. She had always wondered if he and Lori had been, or were an item, but from what she witnessed now she knew the answer.

  Lori was an easy target for a player, yet Bryce wasn't taking the bait. Was he not the man she'd pegged him to be? A little thrill snapped through her. She hoped she was mistaken about him. A true player would take anyone, right?

  When Bryce finished his whiskey, Lori asked if he wanted another. At his hesitation, Markie thought he'd order another, but then he shook his head. Disappointment washed over Lori's face, but she kept her friendly smile in place.

  "All right, then."

  Bryce stood.

  Lori followed suit and fixed her admiring gaze on him. "I didn't see your vehicle in the parking lot, do you need a ride home?" The woman's tone was hopeful.

  "No thanks."

  Hmm, still fending her off. Or, is he clueless to her intentions. No, nobody could be that naive.

  Lori stepped toward him, gave him a quick hug, then took a step back. "Okay then. See you later." She spun and left.

  Markie stood and followed Bryce out the door and into the parking lot. Tiana's shrill voice screeched Bryce's name. He flinched and glanced at Markie. His gaze begging her to save him. She would bet her last paycheck he'd never say the words though.

  Tiana placed her hand on Bryce's shoulder and planted her pinning glare on Markie, staking her claim.

  "Just catching an after-work drink with some coworkers?" Tiana asked him. The vile woman leaned into Bryce's side. "Do you want another? I'd love to buy you one, but not here." She looked down the alley toward Coach's Place. "How about Coach's?"

  He edged away from the unsound woman, not stopping until his upper arm pressed against Markie's shoulder. "No thanks. We were just heading out. Calling it a night."

  Interesting. The man she'd pegged as a player just shot down another easy opportunity, again, making her rethink her assessment of him.

  Tiana's nostrils flared as she bounced her gaze between Bryce and her. Her eyes narrowed and her lips pulled into a tight thin line. The woman's head ticked to the side. "Fine, then," she spat through gritted teeth.

  Bryce's arm rounded over Markie's shoulders, and he pulled her tighter to his side. Heat flooded her body at his possessive hold. Yes, his action was only a front to ward off a relentless pursuer, but it felt good—right. Still, her cautious side begged her to pull away, but the hint of desire creeping through her caused her to lean into the hard, muscled body at her side.

  "See ya," Bryce said as he led Markie to her car.

  She didn't need to turn to verify Tiana stared after them. The woman's glare burning a hole in her back was enough to know.

  Bryce yanked the driver's side door open and she slid in before he walked around the front of the vehicle and climbed in the passenger side.

  "Sorry about that. I'd appreciate a ride home," Bryce commented as he stared out the windshield.

  "I assumed that when you got in."

  Markie thought it best to waste no time in close proximity to Tiana, so she cranked the engine, pulled out of the parking lot, and headed in the direction of Bryce's house.

  "I'd planned to walk but..."

  "I get it. No problem. That lady is off her rocker. You need to be careful," she warned.

  "I know. I can't seem to get rid of her. And it's not like we really even dated."

  "Really?" Even after what she'd just assessed about him she couldn’t hold the sarcasm from her tone.

  A quick glance toward him found him looking at her.

  "Yes, really. And why do you have such a hard time believing me? What have I ever done for you to have such a low opinion of me when it comes to women?"

  Her pulse kicked up a notch at his calling her out. She refocused on the road. "I don’t."

  "Well, it sure doesn't seem that way. You bust my balls every chance you get. Always making some sort of comment about me and the opposite sex."

  She pulled into Bryce's driveway and flipped the car into park.

  The man wasted no time reaching for the door handle. "Thanks for the ride."

  "Wait!" she called out as he climbed out of the vehicle.

  He bent and leaned in to see her, his face muscles taut. "What?" he asked. Annoyance emitted from his tone.

  "I don't do that."

  His brow arched. "Yeah, you do." He shrugged. "Whatever though. What does it matter?"

  Bryce stood, shut the door, and headed up the sidewalk, soon to disappear into his house.

  The cleansing breath she drew in was not cleansing. Probably would have been if Bryce's cologne hadn't pleasantly infiltrated her nostrils. Though she'd successfully ignored his tantalizing scent in the past, it had become more difficult to do so lately. That hint of sandalwood on him was like a drug. She couldn't get enough of it, and like some drug addicts she knew, she needed to kick it for her own good, but couldn't.

  Markie cut the engine and flung her vehicle door open. She knocked once on his front door then turned the handle without hesitation, calling his name as she stepped inside.

  He studied her from across what she presumed to be the living room, but it was hard to tell since it was in the midst of a remodel job.

  "What, Markie? What do you want?" Resentful attitude still laced his tone.


  "I want to explain. I don't mean to give you a hard time. Really."

  He just watched her, waiting.

  She swallowed hard and narrowed the gap between them, stopping just a step away from him. The heat of his body warmed hers. That sandalwood scent hit her again, and those almost black eyes of his darkened even more.

  Shame caused her to pull away from that dark gaze of his. She stared at the floor. "I don't know why I do it. I'm sorry."

  An outright lie. She knew darn well why she did it. She was afraid of him. Afraid of falling for him. No matter how hard she tried to tell herself he was made from the same mold as her cheating ex-fiancé, she knew the truth. He wasn't. But telling herself that kept her from putting herself out there—risking another heartbreak.

  When there was still not a word from him, she drew in a deep breath, looked up, and met his gaze.

  His taut facial muscles loosened. His gaze softened with each passing moment.

  "Please, Bryce, just..."

  His lips silenced her words and his large hands cupped her cheeks, heating her skin. His flavor seeped into her. The kiss that started as urgent slowed, calmed, teased her to the brink of uncontrolled desire. He paused, lingered, and then returned to a soft, slow seducing pace. This guy knew how to kiss.

  Bryce. The guy kissing her beyond the ability to think was Bryce. How?

  Shit, who cares? His lips felt so good she kept in sync with him. Could do this for hours.

  Bryce pulled back. The hope it was just a pause and he'd resume faded quickly as he edged back a bit farther.

  Sheer disappointment raked through her. Distance clouded over the desire in his gaze. Where was he going off to?

  She took a step toward him. He took a step back and shoved his hands in his pockets. His sun-darkened face turned white.

  "Are you okay?"

  His gaze landed on the floor. "I'm fine. I'm sorry."

  Her heart hammered. "Sorry you kissed me?"

  Silence.

  This certainly wasn't the behavior of a confident womanizer. "Bryce?"

  He slowly lifted his gaze to meet hers. "I'm sorry, but I shouldn't have kissed you. It was a mistake. We work together. We shouldn’t do this."