by Hazel Parker
Not after what he and I had been through, anyway.
During the walk, we grabbed dinner at a nearby food truck, people watched, and held hands. It felt like we were getting closer and closer by the second.
But it also felt like there were some topics that were deliberately not being broached. Things were getting magical, but the magic could only last so long. At some point, true appreciation for each other had to come into play. And that was only going to come in one way.
“Hey, can I ask you a serious question real quick?” I said.
There was no way it was going to be “real quick.” But I had to soften what was to come somehow.
“Of course,” he said. “What’s up?”
I took a deep breath, knowing Lane probably wasn’t going to like what I was about to say.
“Can you tell me what happened with the NYPD?”
Chapter 9: Niner
This was the conversation I’d dreaded all this time.
“OK,” I said. “OK.”
I took a couple of deep breaths. I hadn’t told this story in quite some time, and it wasn’t surprising that I wasn’t very eager to.
“When I was in the NYPD, I wasn’t very much into the politics and games. Our chief, for example, was a bit of a hot-tempered man. My colleagues were a little bit pompous and liked to brag about how they were in the NYPD to get girls. Everyone connected with everyone, but that wasn’t my cup of tea. I just preferred to do my job. But I also wasn’t afraid to do whatever it took to get the job done. I was warned multiple times that I could be a case study in police brutality if I weren’t careful.”
I paused for a second to consider something I hadn’t really pondered before. Maybe every time I arrested someone, I saw it as a chance to get revenge on the bullies who had harmed me as a child. Carrie helped save me from future bullying, but she couldn’t have saved me from my worst side, and maybe that was why I struggled with keeping my emotions in check in the heat of a battle or an arrest.
“This combination always made my job a little tenuous. It wasn’t like I was constantly getting warned about getting fired, but it did mean that other people got promotions or got recognized for their work more than I did. It also meant that I became even more hardened in my ways. If the other cops were going to get rewarded for what I saw as being more focused on rising the ranks than doing their jobs, then I was more determined to be a cop and nothing but a cop. So the cycle spun out of control.
“It all came to a head a few years ago. There was a criminal in the area, a true sociopath and monster, known for raping and killing women. A modern-day Ted Bundy, if you will, except Ted Bundy at least looked like a half-normal man. This man not only was evil, but he also relished looking the part. We tried like hell to capture him, but he was tricky as hell. Well, one night, I finally got to him.”
I paused to let the memory pass through my mind in full before I described it.
“He was on the run. I caught up to him. Had I just arrested him right then and there, that would have been the end of it. Instead, I let my anger and my rage get a hold. I beat the ever-living shit out of him. And to some extent, I could have gotten away with it. Rapists don’t really have a strong support system in the public sphere, and for damn good reason. But the tape spread. Even though I was in the right, the NYPD got lambasted as being unable to control one of their own.”
“And so that was the end of the line for you, even though you did your job.”
“A hundred percent,” I said. “And, of course, I didn’t apologize for it during hearings. A few of my colleagues begged me to play the game, to say I was sorry and let myself get carried away, but I fought for justice. Justice was served for a time to that man. And then…I was let go.”
I shrugged.
“If they want to play games with me, then so be it. I’m a cop, not a puppet. I understand that they had to defend their public image, but the man raped and killed multiple women, Carrie. I can’t just…I don’t regret it still.”
“So you joined the Savage Saints to get that feeling back?”
“It’s better this way,” I said. “The Saints don’t have to be held to the letter of the law or a public image. If anything, the image being shit in the media gives us more freedom than if we had to act like angels.”
I shook my head.
“Ever since you saved me that day, I’ve tried to take the fight to the bullies. As kids, the bullies picked on us at school. As adults, the bullies commit crimes and need to be punished. I never killed anyone unnecessarily. I never knocked someone unconscious. Some people just needed a lesson that the public thought was too violent. But they never understand.”
I sighed, turned to Carrie, and almost smiled. But I knew that what I had just told her wasn’t really a smiling type of statement, and if anything, it might have been the kind of thing to cause her to turn away.
“I’ll get it if, after this, you don’t want to talk to me again,” I said. “I’ve done a lot of things that most people would consider problematic. Getting kicked out of the police force and being unapologetic about it can seem pretty rough. That, and the Savage Saints—”
“No, Lane, it’s fine,” she said, reaching over and grabbing my hand. Warm tingles emanated from my hand. “I’m less concerned with the job title you have than I am with the guiding morals that you have. And you sound like you’re a pretty strong man. Stronger than I was.”
“I’m sorry?”
Carrie looked away. I tried to lean forward, but she kept her face away from me.
“I never stood up to my bullies,” she said. “Never have. And at this point, never will.”
“Carrie?” I said, surprised that she had bullies.
She sniffled. I pulled her in with a hug, aware of the tears about to fall from her eyes. She turned into me and sobbed into my shoulder. I genuinely had no idea what she was crying about, but whatever it was, I needed to protect her from it. If it was something I could help, I would.
“My father,” she said, but she didn’t elaborate at first. I kissed the top of her forehead, careful not to do too much and make her feel like I was taking advantage of her emotions. “My father became abusive to me after my mother died. So, basically, since the day I was born.”
“Jesus…”
“I refused to let his bullying turn me into anything bad. I became an advocate for the bullied. In high school, I would start projects stating that we needed to end bullying. I held bake sales to try and make it a reality. When I turned eighteen, I immediately moved out. My father warned me he wouldn’t pay for college, but I didn’t care. I had scholarships to the University of Georgia, and with it being in-state, the cost was minimal. Even if it was higher, I needed to get out.”
“Do you want me to do anything?” I said. “I can go to your old—”
“I haven’t spoken to him in ages,” she said. “And even if I had, I wouldn’t want you to get involved. You have your demons to fight, Lane. You don’t need to be caught up in mine.”
“I know, but—”
Carrie pulled her head up and looked into my eyes. She smiled gently, the kind of reassuring smile that told me everything would be just fine. I believed her.
But more than that, I believed in her. I believed in her strength, her grace, and her beauty. I believed in her ability to overcome anything that came her way.
And this made me realize that she was no angel. She wasn’t perfect. She was better than that—she was someone who had achieved so much in spite of her flaws, not because she was free of them. She didn’t just organically accomplish everything in life; she’d had to scrap and work for it.
And because she was not an angel, I could stop treating her as such. She didn’t have to be put on a pedestal. I could just treat her as she was—a woman, a human.
A woman that I wanted to kiss.
This time, when our bodies came together and she leaned into me, I didn’t pull back or go over the shoulder for a hug. I closed my eyes and kis
sed her.
It felt like nearly two and a half decades of tension were released right there. Twenty-five years had passed since that moment when she’d saved me, but now, we were saving each other. She was saving me from a lifetime of being too hard and too rough for the outside world to be let in, and I was saving her from the emotional doubts she suffered from the job and her father.
It was thus not just a kiss of attraction and erotic tension, but a kiss of love and unquestioned support. I couldn’t say what we would become, but I could say right now, I didn’t see how things could get much better than they were right there.
She and I pecked at each other’s lips a few times before she finally fell back over my shoulder, her body gradually tightening its grip around me.
“Oh, Lane,” she said.
“Carrie…”
I kissed her again, and just as the first time, the kiss felt more like two troubled souls merging into one.
It was crazy to realize I was even thinking like this, let alone speaking aloud, but I couldn’t think of anyone in the world who could make me feel this way like Carrie. Certainly, no one else had made such a huge difference in my childhood as she had.
“Isn’t it wonderful how things came together like so?” she said. “For us to have that one encounter in our youth, and now to come back together.”
“Indeed,” I said.
I may have had many thoughts running through my head, but the beautiful woman in front of me all but had me tongue-tied.
She collapsed back against my shoulder as I rubbed her back. Night was beginning to settle in on the day, and at some point, the two of us would have to head back. At this point, with the drive back to Brooklyn, it would take us over an hour to get there, and the night sky would have fully settled in.
But honestly, if we didn’t get back until midnight, it wouldn’t have been a moment too soon. I could have spent the next week here with Carrie, and it would have been perfect. All I needed was some water to drink and food to eat and I’d be set.
“So where to now?” she said. “Now that we’ve spilled all our darkest secrets.”
She gave a half laugh mixed with some tears. I wiped them from her and smiled.
“It doesn’t matter where we go, so long as it's with you,” I said.
“Then let’s go home,” she said almost immediately. “Let’s go somewhere private. It may not be Georgia, but it will feel like Georgia with you.”
That was all I needed to hear. I stood, kissed her again, and led her to the bike. The engine roared to life, we sped down the roads, and we made our way back.
Back to home.
Chapter 10: Carrie
I didn’t know how things could have been better tonight.
I’m sure that the surprise factor of it had something to do with it. I hadn’t begun this Sunday thinking that I was going to see Lane. This wasn’t supposed to happen for another two days. Another forty-eight hours of stressing over the restaurant, creepy customers, and the future. Another day and night and day and night without reward.
And now, suddenly, I had the type of man that I never thought I would in New York City—someone who didn’t mind sleeping once in a while in this city, someone who didn’t feel the need to boast about their latest accomplishment or wear the latest high-end suit, and someone who got what it was like to grow up in Georgia and didn’t assume that it was some state full of hicks and racists.
The motorcycle ride back might as well have been like driving through a dream with Lane. Much of our surroundings were dark, the sights normally visible during the day—birds flying away from the sound of the motorcycle, the blur of trees, the distant monochrome buildings on the horizon—gone, only there in memory. But in their place was the distant glow of New York City, the city that glowed as bright as the feelings Lane and I had for each other.
Some relationships started with a bang and then vanished into nothing. Some started off dull, seemed to be bright enough, and then died when both parties realized that neither side was all that bright to begin with. Lane and me?
Maybe it was too early to say, but this was pretty special as far as nights out went. It wasn’t a real first date, not in the traditional sense. He felt he owed me everything from the past; I felt I owed him much more for what he was doing for my store.
But I felt pretty confident in saying this was not going to be our last night together. That made the fact that we were heading back to my place at Brooklyn that much more exciting. It wasn’t the snap of a one-night stand, nor was it the tragic end of something fun that was nearing its end. It was only the beginning.
I wanted Lane to park his bike right outside my Brooklyn apartment, but understandably, street parking in this part of New York was not exactly at a premium. He dropped me off just outside Brooklyn Repairs, wanting to make sure that we could make an exit in privacy. He hurried his bike inside, parked it, and then ran out to me, calling an Uber.
We behaved in that Uber for all of about two minutes before we were making out all over each other. Unlike the kiss in the park, which had felt like the desires of two people finally fulfilled after a quarter of a century, this was just the kiss of two very horny and aroused people who couldn’t get enough of each other. We were in the kind of heat that only a car crash could interrupt, and even then, we were likely to just get right back to where we had left off.
Fortunately for the poor Uber driver who had to put up with our awkward making out, we got back to my place within five minutes. I dragged Lane out of the car and, holding his hand, led him up to the second floor of my apartment complex. I fumbled with the keys, so excited to have him, and as soon as the door was open, we hurried to step inside so we could resume making out.
Lane was a damn good kisser, better than anyone I had ever been around. Our kisses weren’t just pecks on the lips, nor were they the full-blown tongue orgies. Rather, it was more like a dance, a healthy balance between the two; something that seemed slow in the moment, yet steadily and properly paced.
Our waltz of a kiss led us to the bedroom, where we tumbled onto the unkempt sheets.
“Sorry,” I said as we fell. “Room’s not quite made how I’d like it to be.”
“You’re worried about the bed right now?” Lane said with a laugh. “I wouldn’t have even noticed if you hadn’t said anything.”
Boys will be boys, I thought with a smile.
Our clothes started to come off. Lane took off his cut and his shirt, revealing a body that looked exactly how it felt—ripped, tight, and with muscles flexing all over. I had only a vague memory of him overweight, and obviously, that was from so long ago that it was no longer relevant, but that didn’t mean I didn’t enjoy even more the sight of his body knowing what he had gone through.
And then I noticed the scars and wounds, a couple circular ones and then some about an inch in length. I ran my fingers over the wounds, causing Lane to pause briefly.
“Sorry, should I not?”
“No, take a look at them,” he said, placing his hands back on me. “They don’t hurt anymore. They are as much a part of me as you are.”
I smiled as I looked at each one. I wanted to know every story, every moment, every person that had done this damage to him. Lane didn’t seem the slightest bit concerned, nor did he show any signs of pain when I ran my fingers over. Still, I couldn’t quite bring myself to believe that it didn’t hurt at all.
“So it’s totally fine now?” I asked.
“Absolutely,” he said. “I can tell you more. But I think you want something else a little more right now.”
“Yes,” I said with a giggle, pulling on his arms and dragging him back down to kiss me.
We rolled around on the bed, fighting to see who would get to pleasure the other first. I burst into laughter as I tried to assert myself, but Lane discovered a secret weapon—as soon as he bit and licked my neck, I became helpless. There was nothing I could do to defend myself.
“You bastard!” I shrieked, stil
l laughing.
“You first,” he growled.
He helped remove my top, and then, kissing me, removed my bra, throwing it aimlessly to the side. He moved down and suckled on my breasts, and at that point, I stopped trying to fight for the right to pleasure him first. There was not going to be any winning this battle, most especially because my body was now flooding with pleasure so much that I couldn’t even make sense of the ceiling from the floor.
As his kisses moved further and further down my body, I found my moans increasing in volume. I was so horny and needing him, I worked to shove my jeans down, even though he hadn’t yet unbuttoned them. When he finally did that, I felt myself as wet as I had been in some time. My body wanted him even more than my mind did.
“I need you so bad, Lane,” I said. “I need you.”
“And I want you,” he said. “I got you when I needed you. Now, I’m going to get you when I want you.”
There was just something so incredibly hot about how he was taking over the situation. For someone who had been tongue-tied in our interactions before, he sure seemed to have a much better command of the situation in bed.
He kissed my right leg, working his way down from my feet to my thighs. Just when I thought he was going to kiss my clit, he instead kissed the crevice, moving back up to my left leg.
“Oh, that’s so dirty,” I said.
“If you think that’s dirty, wait till you see what happens when I actually start.”
Oh, fuck yes.
This time, when he got down there, he didn’t stop and suddenly switch positions. He kissed down on my clit, looked up at me, then went back to my clit and began eating me out.
Fuck me to heaven, this was incredible. My legs clamped down on his head as if I could lock him into place forever. I had to close my eyes at how good it felt, but that only heightened the sensation.
“How the fuck are you so good!” I said, my question turning into a statement halfway through when he did…something that was getting me to squirm and quiver uncontrollably.
