It was like night and day.
Devon wasn’t built. Miller was built.
He looked unbelievably sexy.
I’d also thought the same that morning when I’d seen him dress.
I’d watch the meticulous process from start to finish, me in the middle of the bed with my comforter up over my shoulders and around my front.
He’d started first with a basic pair of white socks.
Then he’d put on his underwear, followed by these black pants that had to have at least a million pockets.
Then he’d started filling those pockets. Wallet, phone, keys with no less than fifteen keys, clips filled with bullets, change, and what looked like a Leatherman, but he’d called it a Raptor or something.
Then he’d started on the gun belt, and I’d watched, just as enraptured, as he put all the different odds and ends onto his belt.
He’d followed the belt up with a white t-shirt, a Kevlar vest, and a plain black polo.
He was in much the same as he’d left with this morning, except now his shirt was covered in what looked like dirt, and he had a small tear where the shirt buttoned.
Then I started to take closer stock of his body, comparing him to Devon, and I was in awe.
Devon had been the high school football star and had kept up the body he’d had in high school, even going so far as to add on more muscle. He wasn’t a small man, but compared to Miller, he looked like a freakin’ runt.
Miller’s muscles bulged as he raised his arm and held his pointer finger only millimeters from Devon’s chest. “How about you keep your bullshit to yourself, and the next time you think to come and harass my girl, you think twice. Maybe think about what it’ll feel like to have my fist planted in that pretty little face? Hmm?”
Devon held up his hands. “Sorry, man.”
He didn’t sound sorry, but we were starting to draw the attention of every man, woman, and child in the diner, as well as outside on the street. So, with shaky legs, I stood, tossed my dollar fifty down on the table to pay for my drink, and grabbed a hold of Miller’s bicep.
My fingers couldn’t even touch as I wrapped them around his bulging bicep. Not even close.
His muscles jumped under my touch, but he never took his eyes off his target.
And Devon was trying really, really hard to hold up under Miller’s scrutiny.
“Baby, are you okay? Do you need me to call the police?” Sarah asked in her nail-against-chalkboard voice.
I’d hated that voice for eleven years now, and if anything, it’d only gotten more annoying.
My hands tightened on Miller’s arm, and he finally looked down at me to see what was wrong.
His eyebrows lifted when he saw that my eyes were directed to the woman over his right shoulder. Which caused him to turn slightly to keep both of them in his sight.
Taking me right along with him.
“I am the police, lady,” Miller snapped.
Sarah raised her eyebrows at me. Those perfectly sculpted in black pencil eyebrows that I’d wanted to rip out for my entire life arched like they did when she was about to say something snotty, and she didn’t disappoint.
“Well,” she said in a huffy, fake Southern voice. “It’s obvious that, if you’re with her,” she said, pointing at me. “Then you’re not a worthy police officer. Surely you could find someone who hasn’t been used so…thoroughly.”
I started forward almost before I even realized I was moving, startling both Miller and Sarah.
My hand cracked across her face with a sharp ‘clap,’ causing her head to whip around comically.
Heh, I hadn’t ever slapped someone before, but damned if it hadn’t felt freakin’ awesome! My hand stung slightly, but overall it didn’t hurt like I’d seen in movies.
And during my contemplation of this, Sarah had tried to retaliate, but Miller stopped her before her hand could move more than a foot from her body.
I smiled secretly inside, nearly dying in laughter as she gave Miller the most venomous look she could muster with her face streaming tears and a red handprint over her face.
Devon, who’d been watching in silence, finally started forward when Miller had Sarah’s wrist pinned to her body.
Miller started to move her away from me, but Devon, not one to be shown up, threw himself into the fray.
“Get your hands off my wife!” Devon roared.
“Oh, dear,” I said, pulling out my phone and calling Foster.
I could see this going into dangerous territory really quickly, especially with the way the citizens dining in the café and standing outside started to encircle us, their voices rising.
“Hello?” Foster asked questioningly.
“Uhh, hey this is Mercy. Your brother and I are at Catfish Charlie’s, and we have about fifteen people surrounding us. I think we need some backup,” I said hurriedly.
I could hear Foster move in the background, and then what sounded like a door slamming shut, followed shortly by the sirens turning on in the background. “Be there in less than two minutes. Keep me on the line.”
He sounded exactly like his brother with his bossiness.
Keep me on the line.
As if I would’ve done anything differently!
Soon the crowd went from fifteen people to even more, and I was pushed back until I wasn’t even within arm’s reach of Miller anymore.
Knowing he’d be able to handle the situation better if I got myself out of the way, I moved until I was behind the swinging door that led behind the counter and then went even farther to back into the space between the ice machine and the cash register.
I could still see everything that was going on, but they couldn’t get to me unless they jumped the counter.
Which I didn’t think they were going to do since they all seemed interested in was Devon yelling at Miller to let his wife go, all the while his wife tried to slap Miller for ‘assaulting her indecently.’
“You’re trouble,” an older male’s voice said from the window that led into the kitchen.
I looked up to find Jimmy-John, the owner of Catfish Charlie’s, looking at me accusingly.
I held up my hands and said, “I didn’t have anything to do with it!”
He shook his head. “Mercy girl, I’ve known you since you were barely old enough to stand. You’re always in the middle of everything, whether you mean to be or not.”
I couldn’t help it, I laughed.
Which caused Miller to whip his head around and look at me. Which then caused Devon to take a swing at Miller while his head was turned.
Miller’s head whipped around with the force of Devon’s punch, and he turned back slowly to glare at Devon while still trying to restrain Sarah.
Miller threw one perfectly timed punch straight to Devon’s temple.
Devon dropped like a brick.
And the crowd went wild.
***
I sat in Miller’s padded office chair as I listened to him and the Chief speak.
Well, Chief Rhodes, a veteran officer of thirty-five years, was the one doing the talking, and it was more yelling rather than ‘talking.’ I’d known him for twenty-nine of those years, since he was my father’s best friend, and I’d never heard him yell at another officer like that.
I started to rock forward, unaware that everyone could see me.
Tears poured down my face as I listened to Miller take the brunt of the blame for me. Something I should’ve never brought him into.
I should’ve called 911. Maybe then I wouldn’t be hearing my boyfriend get yelled at and put on probation.
“Shit,” Miller hissed.
I heard his boots pounding on the floor as he came into his office and then dropped onto his knees in front of me.
My head snapped upwards, and I watched with tear-filled eyes as he reached forward, pulling me into his arms.
I went willingly, seeing the horrified look on the
Chief’s face.
I wrapped my arms around Miller’s neck and cried. “I’m so sorry, Miller. I never should’ve brought you into all of this.”
He rubbed his large palms up and down my back in slow, soothing strokes. “It’s okay, Mercy Me. I would’ve been the one to come anyway, even if you had called 911. I was the closest to the scene.”
I clenched my eyes shut tighter. “No. I mean at all. I’ve practically ruined your life.”
He squeezed me tighter. “You didn’t make me do anything. I’m a grown man. I could take you while hog-tied with a blindfold covering my eyes.”
I leaned back, eyes still pouring tears, and laughed in his face. “I’m no fainting violet. I could take you if I had a desire to.”
“Miller,” Chief Rhodes growled from the other room. “Your brother needs a ride from the emergency room. You can have the rest of the day off. Tomorrow too. Come back Wednesday with a better attitude.”
With that, the Chief turned and left, not bothering to look back.
“You pissed off the Chief for me. I think that’s very romantic,” I teased, taking my hand and running my curled fingers against his jaw.
He had a sexy beard today. Something he’d decided to start growing because of some bet between Miller and Foster. It’d started out innocent enough, two nights ago, but had ended in an all-out ‘no shave March’ for the two of them.
They’d tried to pull their other brother into it, but apparently his wife wouldn’t let him get into another ‘sibling rivalry beard off.’
Personally, I thought the entire situation was hilarious, but that was just me.
“Honey, I’d piss off the entire world for you. The Chief is a piece of cake in comparison. And I’m meeting your parents at dinner tonight. I’d never be able to face your father if I hadn’t,” he growled.
I cracked a grin and leaned forward, giving him a kiss on the nose before I made an effort to stand.
When I did, I could see the entire police station watching us through the plate-glass windows of Miller’s office.
The nosy cops didn’t even bother to hide the fact that they were watching, only continued to do so.
Some even went so far as to wave.
Those, however, were the men of the SWAT team.
They were worse than a bunch of giggling teenagers.
“They’re all watching us,” I whispered down, running my hands through Miller’s hair.
He groaned and placed his face against my stomach. “I love it when you put your hands on me.”
I giggled and grabbed onto his ears before pulling him up. “Let’s go get that little brother of yours. Seems someone needs to take care of him.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he drawled.
***
“Wow, I guess I win,” Miller goaded his brother.
“Fuck off,” he snapped, glaring at Miller over the shoulder of the male nurse who was busy cleaning off the blood from the cut on his jaw.
When Foster had arrived, he’d immediately entered into the fray, helping defend his brother from the moment he walked through the door.
Then promptly got a syrup bottle to his face. The glass had shattered instantly, embedding in the bottom of his jaw and chin. He’d been a mess of blood and syrup, but he’d managed to cajole the crowd away from Devon, Sarah, and Miller.
Miller quickly got control of the situation just as three more officers arrived, arresting over twenty people.
Sarah and Devon had been arrested for assaulting a police officer, Devon being the one who had brained Foster with the syrup bottle.
Sarah had clawed Miller’s neck and face, but it wasn’t anything nearly as bad as Foster’s injury.
“They didn’t shave all of it,” I said, going around to the other side to place my hand on Foster’s chin and pulled him toward me.
The nurse tossed me a thankful look over his shoulder, happy that I’d broken the glaring match between the two men.
“That’s right, I still have four-fifths of the beard. And it wasn’t me who shaved it. This guy did,” Foster said, pointing accusingly at the man in front of him.
Sighing, I grabbed the wet rag from the nurse and started cleaning Foster as if he were a small child who couldn’t do it himself.
I probably did it a little harder than was necessary, but seriously, what was their deal? Foster had been hurt today, all because he was trying to help his brother. They needed to cool it with the bet.
“How many stitches did you end up having?” I asked, eyeing the nasty looking wound.
“Thirty-one,” a male’s voice said from behind us.
I cringed the moment I heard it, sinking into Foster the moment I heard the man’s voice.
Foster and Miller both caught the reaction, coming to attention the second I’d done it.
Foster scooted over until he was sitting up straight on the bed, his feet dangling over the side to allow me to get between him and the man entering the room.
Miller stepped in front of the doctor, halting his forward progress before he’d even made it two steps inside the room.
I was hyperventilating, squeezing my eyes tightly shut, as I prayed that he’d leave before it went to a full-blown panic attack.
Oh, my God. That voice sounded so much like Mitch’s that I wanted to puke.
He looked exactly like him as well, even if he was a much older version of him.
Doctor Raine Moose, Mitch’s father, was a good man.
He was a really nice person, and I’d loved him the moment I met him.
Something had to be said for a man who tried so hard to take care of his family but had failed. He and Mitch’s mother, Linda, had separated just last year.
He’d been the only good thing about going over to Mitch’s house, and once he was gone, I’d hated being anywhere near Linda. It was as if Raine had kept her grounded, and without him around, she seemed to be worse.
“I think you need to leave,” Miller ordered quietly.
When Raine looked over to me with his bushy eyebrows and shock of white-blonde hair, nearly the same as Foster’s, I knew he felt bad. Devastated, in fact.
“No,” I said softly, leaning into Foster. “It’s okay. Miller, I’d like you to meet Dr. Raine Moose, Mitch’s father.”
Miller froze, looking at Raine as if he was a bug, studying him as if he’d become an interesting specimen.
Raine’s eyes were all for me, though.
They were filled with sorrow when he said, “I’m so sorry, Mercy.”
I nodded, not really knowing what to say.
‘It’s okay’ didn’t really sound like the best thing to say. It wasn’t okay that his son had raped me. Although I knew it wasn’t his fault, it was always going to be in the back of my mind that he’d been responsible for raising Mitch.
What if…
I shut off that thought quickly. No, it wasn’t Raine’s fault. If it was anyone’s fault, it was Linda’s.
“I know,” I finally settled with saying.
He smiled a half smile and turned his attention to Foster, who hadn’t moved an inch since Raine had come into the room.
“I know you’re ready to go, and you’re more than welcome to once the nurse gets you your discharge papers. Don’t get the wound wet for twenty-four to forty-eight hours. And be sure to keep a close eye on it for infection. I called you in a prescription for an antibiotic at Kilgore Drugs, and a pain reliever as well. Is there anything else I can get for you?” Raine asked Foster.
Foster shook his head. “No, that’s it.”
With that, Raine had been properly dismissed, so he turned from the room, only looking back over his shoulder at me twice before he disappeared around the corner.
“What the fuck?” Miller asked, turning around and pinning his eyes on me.
I shrugged. “Mitch’s father is a nice man. He doesn’t deserve to have me so scared of him, but I couldn’t help it. He looks so mu
ch like Mitch that it hurts.”
Miller nodded and turned to his brother but was interrupted by the nurse coming in with a stack of papers in his hand. “Alright, this is your discharge instructions. If you need anything, feel free to call your primary care provider. Anything else I can do for you?”
Foster shook his head in the negative.
With that, the nurse nodded and left, reappearing again with a wheelchair.
Foster snorted and stood, shrugged out of the hospital gown they’d made him slip on over his pants, and picked up a bag of clothes before exiting.
Miller snorted and cracked a smile before offering me his hand.
I stood, taking it willingly.
“Looks like we won’t be needing that wheelchair. Thanks for putting up with him,” Miller said thankfully.
The nurse nodded. “Men are always the worst. I know he wasn’t purposely acting like a douchebag.”
Miller snorted. “No, he really is a douchebag.”
“I heard that!” Foster said from down the hall.
I covered my mouth to hide my smile as we walked hand in hand out the door.
The last thing I saw as we exited the ER was Raine looking at me with ghosts haunting his eyes.
Chapter 10
If you’re arguing with your woman, and she says, ‘go ahead, I don’t care,’ don’t listen to her. It’s a trick.
-Fact of life
Mercy
Four weeks later
I licked my suddenly dry lips, scared to death to even open the box that would soon determine my fate.
Miller had no such problem ripping into the box.
The first thing to go into the trash was the directions, followed by the tiny remains of the decimated box.
“Jesus,” I hissed, snapping the plastic stick away from him before he could rip the plastic off of it, too. “I would’ve liked to read those instructions.”
He grinned at me. “Just piss on the stick. Would you like me to help you?”
I smacked him on the arm and pointed to the door. “Get out!”
He laughed. “I’ll turn my back.”
We’d shared a lot in the last few weeks. Ranging from our bodies to the bedroom, to clothes. Yet we hadn’t shared the bathroom together, other than showers. There had to be a line drawn somewhere, and him watching me pee on a stick was it.
Code 11- KPD SWAT Box Set Page 68
