10 Years Later

by J. Sterling

  “Did she ever get remarried?” he asked.

  I winced a little. “No. She has a boyfriend that she’s been seeing for a couple years, but I don’t think she ever wants to get married again. She seems really happy, and that’s all I want for her, you know?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. That’s what I would want too.” His smile looked sad as I vaguely remembered his parents.

  “How are your parents? I bet your mom’s glad you’re back in California instead of New York, huh?”

  “She is. She’s good. She actually got remarried and had another kid, if you can believe that.”

  I swallowed, remembering that the topic of parents was a sensitive subject for him. Hell, it was a sensitive topic for us both. “Do you like her new husband?”

  He leaned to one side and his neck cracked. “I do, actually. He’s nice. They seem to really like each other, and that’s not something I’m used to seeing.”

  “What about your dad?”

  “I saw him last week. I don’t know what happened with him. He was fucking miserable when he and my mom were together, but he seems even more miserable now that they’re apart.”

  “It’s been years, though, right? Like since we were in high school?”

  Dalton nodded. “Yeah. He’s just bitter. All the time. It’s too hard to be around that, so I don’t see him very often. I feel like a selfish prick, but whenever I leave his place, I just feel drained.”

  Placing my hand on his knee, I rubbed my thumb along the side of it. “I get that. People who aren’t happy tend to suck all the good emotion out of you.”

  “That’s exactly what it feels like. Like I’ve been sucked dry,” he said sadly, and his eyes had a faraway look to them.

  “Didn’t your mom start working at our school?” I searched the recesses of my mind, wondering where that tidbit of information came from.

  “She did. She’s the librarian there, and she loves it. That’s how I found out about the reunion in the first place. They told her they couldn’t find any contact information for me, and asked her to reach out on their behalf.”

  I laughed. “Yeah. About that. My God, Dalton. Who has no information about them available online? Like, at all? You have any idea how infuriating that is?”

  He rubbed the stubble along his jawline as a wicked smile appeared. “You tried to find me? Like a stalker?”

  I smacked his shoulder. “I tried to find you, yes. Like a stalker . . . kinda,” I admitted with a shrug.

  “No social media is the safest option for me when it comes to my job. I’d rather not be easy to find, so I stayed off of it completely.”

  I gave him a mock serious look. “Well, you were the cause of many nights of angst and drowning my sorrows in wine over the last ten years.”

  “I might have done the same thing if I couldn’t find you, either. But then again, I’m a cop. I would have found some way to look you up.”

  “So you stalked me too? Is that what you’re saying?”

  He smacked a hand on top of his leg. “Hell yes, I stalked you. I might not have an online profile, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t out sniffing around yours.”

  I frowned at him, wondering how he could have stayed away so easily. It certainly wasn’t easy for me. “You could have sent an e-mail or something. Did you have to go completely silent for so long?”

  Dalton shrugged as he took a sip of his beer. “Well, I was dating Jill for a while there. And I didn’t know what to say to you. I didn’t know where to start, so I just didn’t.” His jaw tensed. “I just didn’t start at all.”

  “It’s okay. I’m pretty sure we’re past all that now. I mean, look at us.” I tilted my head to look up at him and he leaned down, his lips pressing against mine. The taste of chocolate chip cookie on his tongue made me giggle, and he pulled away. “What are you laughing at? You think my kisses are funny?”

  “No. But the fact that you taste like a cookie kinda is.” I giggled again before covering my mouth as a yawn escaped.

  “You’re exhausted. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

  “Not yet. Let’s just watch the rest of this show.” I motioned toward the television and repositioned my head against his chest.

  Later I woke up and glanced at the clock on my bedroom nightstand. It was a little after one in the morning, and I had no idea how I’d gotten in bed. Dalton lay sleeping next to me on his back, his exposed upper body practically begging me to lie on it. Moving closer, I pressed my head against the warmth of his chest, and his arm immediately wrapped around my shoulder.

  He held me close and I relaxed, listening to the sound of his heart beating against my ear, until my alarm blared at three thirty, waking me from a sound sleep.

  • • •

  The next few days flew by, and even though I wanted to see Dalton every second I wasn’t at work, I desperately needed some decent sleep. Alone. He tried to convince me otherwise, but I stood firm in my request, even though I didn’t always want to. It helped that the case Dalton was working on seemed to be heating up, so he was busier than normal, working hours that were even more demanding than mine.

  It was ridiculous, feeling so much for him again so quickly, but I didn’t care. I welcomed the feelings with open arms and an open heart. When we couldn’t see each other, we talked every night about old times, memories, and new feelings until I fell asleep on the phone with him. Dalton claimed he thought it was cute. But I was convinced he thought anything I did was cute at this stage in our newly reunited state. He didn’t disagree, and I didn’t care.

  After a ridiculous amount of begging, Dalton finally convinced me to have dinner with him at Graziano’s on Friday, making the reservations early enough to accommodate my end-of-the-week exhaustion level. I actually looked forward to having a delicious Italian dinner that I didn’t have to cook or clean up after. My mother had given me a few Italian recipes that I tended to make often. And while I loved the heck out of them, I hated the mess I created in my kitchen as I cooked.

  Aside from the food, I also couldn’t wait to see my man again. The days seemed to last forever, and the phone calls were honestly no replacement for the real thing, even though we tried. I planned to tell him as much tonight. He had been right, and I should have listened. I didn’t care how tired I was from work, or how late he got done working his case, I wanted to see him anytime it was possible.

  Nothing felt better than waking up in his arms at night and falling asleep with him next to me. Dalton made me feel safe.

  Undercover

  Dalton

  I’d finally convinced Cammie to leave her damn house and go out to dinner with me at an actual restaurant. I loved spending alone time with her, but I hated that I hadn’t taken her out on a proper date yet. The gentleman in me wanted to treat her to a nice meal, pull her chair out for her, open the car door, and shit like that. I hadn’t been able to do any of those things, and it was driving me fucking crazy.

  It’s funny how the right girl makes you feel. How you suddenly find yourself wanting to spend your hard-earned money on her, without feeling pressured or obligated to do so. How buying her roses just to leave them on her pillow didn’t seem like such a cheesy Hallmark thing to do.

  Dinner tonight was going to be romantic and epic. I planned to pull out all the stops. Knowing the owner didn’t hurt my chances, either. I knew that I didn’t need to impress Cammie, but I still wanted to woo her.

  Maybe I was sort of a cheesedick?

  As I was sitting at the table in my apartment, sipping home-brewed coffee, my work-issued phone started to vibrate in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw my informant Eddie’s number flashing on the screen. It was still considered early morning LA time, but it was almost noon in New York.

  “Hey, Eddie,” I said softly into the phone, making sure not to talk too loud so that it didn’t echo on Eddie’s end.

  “He’s heading over to the docks. The LB docks. That shit make sense to you?” Eddie’s voice was muffled as he s
poke quickly in a low voice. There was no telling who might be listening, and he had a lot on the line by snitching to me.

  “I know the place. You have any more info? He’s never gone to the water before,” I asked. In all the time that we’d trailed Mickey, he’d never once gone to any of the docks in the area, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything.

  “Something about meeting a new guy or a new crew. Seems odd that he’d go in broad daylight for that kind of transaction and not send someone in his place, but that’s all I heard.”

  “Thanks, Eddie. I appreciate it. Anything else?”

  “That’s all I got for you.”

  “Talk soon,” I said before ending the call and feeling a wave of adrenaline sweep through me. I rushed to pull my jeans on and button them before heading out to my car.

  I dialed Tucker through my Bluetooth and when he answered the phone, his voice was still groggy. “What’s up, partner?”

  “Just heard from Eddie that Mickey’s at the LB docks.”

  “What the hell is he doing there?”

  “Don’t know,” I replied, wondering the same thing myself.

  “Should we meet there?” he asked, sounding more alert now. “I think we should only take one car in. What do you think?”

  “I think we should only take one car in too.” My phone beeped, and I pulled it away from my cheek as my boss’s name flashed on the screen. “I’ll call you back. Boss is on the other line.”

  Before Tucker could respond, I clicked over. “Thomas here.”

  “Dalton. Did you hear about the LB docks from your guy?”

  “Yes, sir. I just got off the phone with him.”

  “I think we should send a small squad. What do you think?”

  Pausing for a moment, I considered the risks associated with going in strong. “I’m not sure, sir. If there’s too many of us and we’re just observing him, we might stand out. But then again, if something goes down, we’ll need the backup.”

  “I don’t know what Mickey’s up to. Keep your radio line open, your phone on you, and stay in touch with me every ten minutes.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said quickly, then ended the call.

  Hopping into my car, I called Tucker back. “The boss was wondering if we should squad up or not,” I told him as I shifted the car into drive and stepped on the gas.

  “What’d you say?”

  “I told him that too many people might draw attention to us, and we don’t know what Mickey’s up to.”

  “Good call,” Tucker said, and I was relieved that he agreed.

  “So let’s meet up at our normal location and take one car in,” I suggested.

  “You got it. I’m on my way.”

  Pulling into the busy shopping center parking lot, I pulled my car to a stop and waited for Tucker to arrive. Glancing in my rearview, I saw him driving in. I hopped out as he rolled down his passenger window and I leaned against it.

  “Ready?” he asked from the driver’s seat, making no move to get out.

  I cocked an eyebrow at him. “Oh, you want to drive today?”

  “Get in, we’re wasting time,” he demanded.

  After rolling my eyes at him, I reached inside my car, grabbed the camera from the backseat, and locked up the car behind me before hopping into the passenger seat of Tucker’s less conspicuous car. Both of our automobiles were station assigned, but mine was newer. Once buckled in, I turned on the radio channel and checked in with our boss.

  We arrived at the LB docks in record time. The hair on the back of my neck lifted as we drove in, but I ignored it and encouraged Tucker to drive deeper into the shipyard. Ship workers milled about in the distance as we searched for any sign of our suspect. He pulled the car to a stop, and I wished we had a little more information to go on. This place was fucking huge, and I had no idea where to even start looking.

  Glancing at Tucker, I asked, “See anything?”

  He breathed out an aggravated huff. “Nothing. Where the hell is he? Did Eddie mention a particular ship, or a dock slip?”

  “No. Fuck.” Frustrated, I slammed my hand against the dashboard. Missing the opportunity to gather more evidence on this piece of shit would not go over well with the Feds assigned to monitor the case. “Think we should get out? Move around on foot?”

  “Something’s not right,” Tucker said, and I couldn’t disagree. Everything felt wrong. “I think we’re being set up.”

  “I think you’re right.”

  Tucker and I both glanced up through the windshield, seeing the same thing at the same time. Mickey stood about fifty feet in front of us, his middle finger in the air, while his other hand rested on his hip, where I assumed a gun lay strapped out of view.

  “Shit!” Tucker and I both yelled at the same time.

  The station radio crackled to life with a warning as gunshots filled the air.

  “Dalton, Tucker, get the hell out of there. Do you copy? Get out of there, it’s a setup! Come in, over!”

  Panic

  Cammie

  I arrived at Graziano’s ten minutes early and approached the hostess counter. “Hi. I have reservations at five.”

  The hostess smiled as she glanced down at the chart in front of her. “Sure. What’s the name?”

  Shifting my purse strap higher on my shoulder, I said, “It should be under Thomas.”

  “Ah, yes. Mr. Dalton Thomas, reservations for two. He’s not here yet, but your table is ready if you’d like to follow me.”

  I smiled in return and followed as she led me to a table in the back of the room. Although I wanted to know when Dalton was headed my way, I took the seat that didn’t face the entrance of the restaurant, knowing where he would prefer to sit.

  “Your waitress will be with you shortly. Is there anything else you need?”

  “No, thank you.”

  She hurried off as a busboy appeared and poured two glasses of water, then delivered a basket of bread, a bottle of olive oil, and fresh basil. It looked and smelled incredible. I knew that I should have waited for Dalton, but I couldn’t help myself as the scent of freshly baked bread wafted toward me.

  A young waiter appeared. “Good evening. My name is Richard and I’ll be your waiter this evening. I see that we’re still waiting for the rest of your party to arrive. So in the meantime, can I start you off with anything to drink?”

  “I’ll take a glass of white.”

  “We have a pinot grigio from Tuscany that’s crisp and fruity,” he suggested.

  “That’s perfect, thank you,” I said, and he scurried off.

  My wine arrived, and I contemplated for a moment whether I should wait for Dalton, or order him a glass as well. I did neither and sipped my wine as I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. It was embarrassing to sit alone in a nice restaurant while you waited for someone else to show up. I felt like everyone’s eyes were fixed on me, even though logically, I knew they weren’t. It was in that moment that I realized I hated having my back to people too. But I suffered through it for Dalton.

  Glancing down at my phone, which I’d sat on the table next to my silverware, I noted that it was ten after five. He was late, but not late enough for me to be truly worried. LA traffic could be a nightmare, and for all I knew, Dalton was stuck in it.

  I stared at my phone every few minutes, typing out text messages to him as I wondered where the heck he was. Richard the waiter continued to cast sad glances my way as the seat reserved for Dalton remained empty.

  Cammie: Are you on your way? Our waiter keeps looking at me like I’m a lost puppy. Hurry up! : )

  Cammie: Still nothing? All right, well, I’m bound to be good and loosened up by the time you get here. The wine is pretty spectacular.

  Cammie: Okay, I’m starting to worry.

  Cammie: Dalton! I’m really starting to lose it here.

  Panic slowly started to creep in. It was so subtle that I barely even noticed it at first. Minutes turned into half an hour, and he still hadn’t arrived. I pr
essed the button on my cell phone again, watching as the screen lit up to reveal no new messages, and telling me it was now 5:47.

  I finally called Dalton’s phone, fidgeting in my chair as it went straight to voice mail. I sent him another text message as well, just to cover all my bases.

  Cammie: Where are you?

  By the time an hour had come and gone with no sign of Dalton, I was in full-fledged freak-the-fuck-out mode. I was sweating, my heart pounding so hard it could probably be seen beating through my top. Terror ripped through me, filling my mind with devastating thoughts.

  Something was wrong. Where was he? Something had happened to Dalton; I just knew it.

  Sensing I was about to lose my cool, I knew I needed to get out of the restaurant before I exploded. What the hell was happening to me? Complete and utter panic consumed me as I waved Richard over.

  “I’m really sorry,” I told my waiter. “I guess he’s not coming. Can I just get the check for the bread and the wine?” My mouth was so cottony with fear, I was surprised I could even get the words out.

  Richard disappeared quickly before returning empty-handed. “My manager says it’s on the house, miss. I’m sorry about your date.” He looked so sympathetic, as if I’d just been stood up. “Are you okay? Do you need me to call someone?”

  Dazed, I shook my head. “I’ll be fine, thanks.”

  My stomach twisted as anxiety washed through me. Terror, sadness, and an ache there were no words for enveloped me. The walls closed in around me, and I desperately needed to get the fuck out of there before I got sick all over their beautiful imported flooring.

  I shoved out of the chair and raced out of the restaurant, thankful that my legs moved me at all. Not caring about the concerned looks in my wake, I barely noted the tears spilling down my cheeks, blurring my vision as I raced for the security of my car. Once I was locked inside, my panic only continued to grow.

  My heart was beating so violently that I was convinced I was having a heart attack. This wasn’t normal, what I was experiencing. I needed to go to the hospital, but I couldn’t drive there.