Repeat Offender

by Vale, Lani Lynn

  In her former job, Crockett was a level-three chef with one of the most prestigious restaurants in Nashville. When her grandfather became ill, she came home and started to help him. Then, had to go even further and take over running the store after her grandfather suffered a stroke. Thankfully, she’d been home to do that and to help him.

  Now Murphy, her grandfather, sat in a rocking chair on the porch half the time and took naps the other.

  Though he was alive, there was a likelihood that he would never be his former self again.

  “I can’t say that I’m upset by this.” I watched as she expertly grilled a burger up for me.

  Crockett laughed. “Everyone I’ve said it to has said the same thing.”

  I could imagine.

  Though her grandfather made burgers as well, there just wasn’t a comparison.

  It was like comparing a McDonald’s shitty hamburger to a gourmet Whataburger one. There just really was no comparison.

  “You’re easy, though,” she said as she slapped a piece of cheese onto the bun. “That intense guy that just came in ordered a double patty with all this extra shit on it. You just like meat and cheese.”

  I did.

  “That’s because I don’t want to pollute your fine cuisine with unnecessary shit,” I teased.

  She snickered as she slapped the meat onto a bun, put it on one of those little paper boats, and handed it to me. Seconds later she had a fresh set of fries sitting next to the burger.

  I moaned.

  “This is where heaven is,” I said as I picked the burger up with two hands.

  I moaned when I bit into it.

  “Sooooo good,” I groaned.

  “Soooo fattening,” she countered, patting her belly.

  I rolled my eyes. “You’re every woman’s wet dream. You have the perfect set of hips, thighs and ass. Do you know how much hiking I have to do for this ass?”

  I didn’t even have an ass, to be technical. Or, if I didn’t work for it, I wouldn’t.

  I had a flat ass that was made a little better by doing a shit ton of squats, glute bridges, and lunges.

  That, and my thighs were on the big side—not fat, but muscular—which also took away from my ass. With thick thighs, my ass just wasn’t as prominent as it would be if they were a normal size.

  “I’m glad you think so.” She rolled her eyes. “But trust me when I say, most men don’t want this much hip.”

  She honestly looked like one of those fifties pin-up models. She had beautiful curvy hips, thighs and breasts. The whole ‘shebang.’ I’d do her if I swung that way.

  I moaned as I bit into the burger, the juice running down my chin as I chewed heartily.

  The fries were just as good, if not better.

  Before I knew it, everything was gone and the only thing left was a greasy mess where my burger used to be.

  I patted my belly and groaned. “That was so good.”

  Crockett smiled. “I’m here to give you another one anytime you need it.”

  “I’ll come back through in a couple of days for another one. I want to make sure that I get all the footage I need for the next couple of weeks promotion wise before I come back. I’m gonna have to order Wyett one to go,” I told her.

  Crockett grinned. “How’s she doing?”

  “She’s doing.” I laughed. “She’s still going to school. She has about six months left until she’s done.”

  Wyett was in her last six months of becoming a nurse anesthetist. Something that her mother used to do before she passed away in a house fire when Wyett was a teenager.

  “I’ll bet she’s ready to be done,” Crockett admitted. “When I was in my last year of culinary school, I thought for sure it would never end. It’s like knowing that you only have a short amount of time to go makes time slow to a crawl.”

  I wouldn’t know.

  I’d barely graduated from high school. College was never going to happen for me. Not because I didn’t want it to, but because I literally didn’t think I could hack it.

  See, I had a learning problem.

  Well, back up. I didn’t have a learning problem as much as a brain problem.

  When I was four, I suffered a TBI—traumatic brain injury—from falling out of a tree. After my TBI, I started having problems with planning, organization, problem-solving and time management. That practically hounded me all the way through high school, and by the time I’d graduated with a barely passing C, I’d made it a priority to think of my mental health after that. That also included me deciding that college wasn’t going to be something that I could do.

  What I could do, though, was photograph and video things—which technically was what had gotten me through my high school years.

  With me not being able to remember half the shit that I needed to do thanks to my fucked up head, I’d started to take videos and pictures to help remind me of shit and plan for things.

  Which had then led to me doing it just for fun.

  Which had in turn allowed me to start doing it for work.

  Now I made money doing what I loved, meaning that I never worked a day in my life.

  Thanks to all my Instagram followers, I also no longer had to ‘work.’ I made money through endorsements and followers.

  “She’s more than ready to be done,” I agreed. “And she’s set to make straight fuckin’ As. She’s smart and beautiful.”

  Crockett beamed at me.

  “I wish y’all lived closer. Y’all are so awesome,” she said as she cleaned up her grill. “Any new guys in your life?”

  I snorted. “No, but I did have someone break up with me a while ago at a party. Does that count?”

  “Were you dating him when he broke up with you?” she questioned as she came to take the seat beside me.

  I shook my head. “Nope.”

  “Then no, it doesn’t count.” She smiled. “Has it already been six months since I last saw you? Dang, that’s crazy.”

  It was.

  I tried to get out here a lot, but hell, my version of ‘a lot’ and everyone else’s was a little different.

  “It’s been what it’s been. I don’t keep time really well,” I admitted. “Speaking of, I really need to go. I have a long hike to get to my usual camping ground for the night, and I’m fairly sure that I’m way later than I intended to be.”

  I looked at my watch to confirm, and sure enough, it was already pushing two in the afternoon.

  “At least you don’t have to eat now,” she teased.

  “That’s true,” I concurred. “I’ll see you in a few days, okay?”

  Crockett gave me a thumbs up and walked with me to the door.

  “You fed your cats, right?” she asked.

  I rolled my eyes. “Of course, I did. Well, kind of. They have an automatic feeder now after the last incident.”

  The last incident was me taking three days longer than I’d intended to get home, and my cats having to drink out of the toilet because I’d forgotten about them.

  I was such a bad cat mom.

  “Good for you,” she said. “Have fun, be careful, and let me know if you need anything.”

  I gave her a thumb up. “Will do. Have a good night. Thank you for lunch. I’ll pay you when I come back through, okay?”

  Because I’d forgotten my wallet. Oops.

  She rolled her eyes. “Your money’s no good here, anyway. Have fun!”

  I gave her a chin lift and headed out, patting every single pocket and surface I had for my keys, only to turn around and see Crockett holding them out to me. “You left them at the bar.”

  I caught them when she tossed ‘em and grinned. “Like always.”

  Laughing, Crockett went inside, and I got into my car and headed for my usual spot.

  When I finally got to where I was going, I pulled out my phone, video equipment and camping shit and started out.

  The first hour wasn’t too bad seeing as I was used to the work. The second hour, however, proved to be
tremulous because of all the damn mosquitos.

  I’d seen something on Facebook a couple of months back about how mosquitos preferred type O blood. Which had to be true because those fuckers could hone in on me out of a choice of about twenty people.

  It was always me.

  And, not only did I get bitten, but I always got huge, swollen knots on my skin where they’d settled and partaken of my blood.

  Needless to say, I forced myself to stop and spray down with bug spray, which had also meant me removing almost my entire damn backpack to get to the spray that was at the bottom of my bag.

  I’d just gotten started walking again when a baby deer caught my eye in the foliage near the base of a tree.

  Grinning widely, I pulled out my phone and snapped a few shots before pulling out my big camera that I recorded videos on.

  I’d just taken about two minutes straight of the damn thing when the baby doe finally realized that I was there and got up to leave.

  Which was about the time that I saw the momma doe come running, looking pissed.

  I quickly ducked behind a tree and watched them leave, the anxious mother turning back to shoot me a worried look every ten yards or so.

  Happy that I got something to use already, I went ahead and started walking again right around the time that I nearly stepped on a fuckin’ snake.

  A coral snake at that.

  Pulling out my phone, I started recording, getting super close.

  “Red on black, friend of Jack. Red on yellow, kill a fellow,” I recited as I picked the thing up by the tail.

  I could see all the comments now.

  That’s poisonous!

  Eww, snakes.

  Yuck, I hate snakes!

  So pretty.

  You’re dumb.

  Oh my God. You’re brave, girl!

  Grinning at the idea of what people would say, I relocated the snake somewhere safer, then continued on my hike.

  I paused at one point, my eyes taking in another white-tail deer and her baby, and snapped a few photos of her.

  I had to stop to pee about ten minutes later, pulling out my handy dandy Go Girl that allowed me to pee like a man.

  Sadly, I couldn’t shake it to get rid of the stray pee drops like men could, so I still had to wipe.

  But what I didn’t have to do was squat and pee all over the back of my hiking boots.

  After putting my used toilet paper into a Ziploc, I had just started forward again when a very loud thud, followed by a scream of pain, made me go completely stiff.

  I knew that sound.

  I was a pro at that sound.

  Why? Because I was bullied in school. I had a really good friend named Bruno that used to be bullied right along with me before I was shipped off to an all girl’s boarding school for high school.

  I could distinctly remember what the sound of flesh hitting flesh sounded like because I’d watched Bruno get beat up so many freaking times.

  After the first time that I’d been punched, too, Bruno had made me promise that I would never intervene again or he’d never speak to me for the rest of my life.

  I valued his friendship so much that I trusted what he said to be true and instead suffered through watching him get his ass beat up time after time.

  It sucked.

  And each time that I heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh, it reminded me of him.

  Of the guy that I’d never been able to find, even after hiring a professional to do it.

  Needless to say, the sound of punches hitting skin, and cries of pain, didn’t send happy pangs through me, but dreaded ones.

  Swallowing hard, I tiptoed through the trees, my eyes going everywhere all at once.

  A branch snapped and slapped me in my face, causing me to curse.

  Moving the branch, I glanced into a clearing and froze.

  Before me sat a rather large opening in the trees. In the middle of that opening was a concrete circle with drains in it. Above the circle hung what looked to be a beam of some sort with chains dangling down. And dangling down from two chains was a man. A naked man who looked to be big, bulky, and freaked way the hell out.

  Then again, I would be freaked out too when the freakin’ mayor was beating the absolute shit out of me.

  Something grabbed me around the upper arm, and I gasped, spinning on my heels to see who it was, but the iron grip on my arm kept me from so much as turning an inch.

  “Walk,” the voice belonging to that unyielding grip ordered.

  I had no other choice but to walk or fall on my face, because he was moving.

  I gasped when my foot caught on a tree limb and I started to go down, but before I could so much as begin to go horizontal, there was another arm holding me up.

  “Watch your step,” he growled, dropping my other arm almost as soon as he’d touched it. “Could you not wear logical hiking shoes?”

  I wore hiking boots.

  Kind of.

  They were sparkly Doc Martens in a shade of deep purple. They were boots. They protected my feet. And they were sparkly.

  They were perfect.

  This guy just didn’t realize that they were.

  “I wore the shoes that I always wear,” I countered. “I’ve hiked in these so many times that they’re worn in just the way I like them.”

  “Sure you have,” he grumbled.

  “No, really,” I said. “I’m a videographer. I’ve filmed shit all over the world in these shoes. Hiked through the rainforest. The outback. These shoes have seen every single continent there is to see.”

  He didn’t have anything to say to that, and I wasn’t sure if he saw the magical powers of the shoes, or if it was because we’d finally caught the attention of the men in the clearing.

  Whatever the reason, he finally loosened his hold on me.

  I saw his hand drop from my arm, and a scar made me gasp and whirl around.

  “Y’all are getting sloppy,” the man holding my arm said as he forced me out farther into the clearing, this time using his hand planted in my belly as he did.

  I whirled back around so I didn’t fall on my ass and saw the other man that’d caught my attention in the clearing but hadn’t held it.

  The man from the diner looked up.

  “Saw her,” he said. “Just knew you were there and were going to bring her in here.”

  The man holding me scoffed and pushed me a little bit harder, forcing me to walk closer to the one man that I was avoiding looking at.

  The mayor.

  The really hot, naked from the waist up mayor.

  The sexy, he has a whole lot of beautiful tattoos mayor.

  The very ripped, very muscular, goddamn mayor.

  The man that was so familiar to me laughed, and that laugh finally triggered the memory that’d been hiding just beneath the surface.

  “Bruno?” I gasped.

  I’d know that laugh anywhere.

  I better. I was there the day he’d received the vocal cord damage that caused that husky laugh.

  God, he’d changed so much. He had a beard. He was bigger. Bulkier. Taller. Hell, he was so different, but also the same now that I knew what to look for.

  Bruno’s eyes snapped to mine, and his eyes focused hard as he took me in.

  “Ines?” he asked, looking as if he wasn’t all that surprised by seeing me as I was at seeing him.

  Ines.

  God, I’d hated that name.

  But my father refused to call me Six, and during school, he told everyone that they would address me by Ines or he’d fuck them all up. Not physically or anything, but financially.

  “Bring her here.”

  Lynn.

  Mayor Hottie.

  The man that’d been doing the beating.

  The man that I couldn’t quite look in the eye.

  I licked my lips nervously, trying to look anywhere but at Lynnwood Thatcher Windsor.

  The mayor.

  Holy shit, the mayor was hot underneath those suit
s!

  And the tattoos screamed ‘not stuck up’ like I’d originally thought him to be.

  A man with tattoos didn’t think the same as my father, who would rather be skinned alive than get a tattoo anywhere on his body.

  He had them everywhere. A full sleeve of them up one arm and down the other.

  One side was in black and white, the other in full color.

  There was a plethora of artwork on each arm, and the artwork extended down the length of his arm, around his shoulder, and down his sides.

  His belly was completely tattoo free, though.

  It was as if he wasn’t quite sure how to merge them, so he’d stopped before they did.

  It was awesome. I wanted to study each and every tattoo close up.

  Which, I found out, was a distinct possibility when Bruno gave me a shove toward Lynn.

  “You know,” I said conversationally to the man at my back. “I looked everywhere for you. You just up and disappeared. What the hell? Who does that to their best friend?”

  “You were my best friend in middle school, Ines,” Bruno grumbled. “Things change.”

  That made me sad because for him that might be true, but for me it wasn’t.

  Even after all these years, I’d always remembered Bruno as my first best friend.

  I looked down and away and sensed more than heard the man at my back go still.

  I’d made him feel bad.

  Whatever.

  If he truly cared, he wouldn’t have hidden himself away from me.

  And for some reason, I knew that was exactly what he’d done—hidden.

  He hadn’t wanted me to find him, and that pissed me off.

  So instead of dwelling on the fact that my best friend for as long as I could remember had been hiding from me for years, I decided to focus on the man that had bloody brass knuckles on his fingers.

  “So you beat the shit out of innocent men in your spare time, Mr. Mayor?” I asked curiously, hiding my sadness with anger and sarcasm.

  The mayor’s eyes took me in.

  I was wearing short black shorts that were so holey that I was fairly sure you could see a lip through one of the holes. To round out the black holey shorts, I wore a black holey t-shirt that said ‘Black Sabbath’ on it. There were holes that you could see my bright purple bra through, though.