When Opposites Collide Boxset

by Kathy Coopmans

  “I will as soon as I finish,” she answers around her crackly cough.

  “Here.” Curtis fills a cup full of water and slides it across the counter.

  “And you, young man, look so much like my brother.” She pats his hand, lifts the glass, and takes a sip.

  “I gave him an ultimatum the night I supposedly died.”

  “Which was?” Curtis asks.

  “To let me and Caitlin go or I expose the truth.”

  Louisa may have cracked open the door to getting to the bottom of this a little further, and she may have threatened him, but she’s still not divulging everything she knows. There’s more, and something tells me that more has everything to do with my Hollywood.

  15

  Caitlin

  I’ve often wondered how much bad kismet it would take to make me break. To finally look up and see the blackest of black writing on the wall and to stand there and watch it crumble to dust.

  I was ready to fall to my feet when I heard that my mother’s name had been leaked. That people will now be digging, searching, and wondering where the hell she is. Who took her and why? That crooked fucking cop is going to try and bury me for my father’s sins, because the truth of the matter is, he knows I’m coming for him. He knows I have her and he is running scared.

  My mother walking into the kitchen with her frail body, her eyes full of unshed tears, was one of the proudest moments of my life. For me to be the daughter of Louisa Winslow, a woman who has lived half of my life in sheer and utter hell, made me want to stand tall, that is until she spoke. Her words were meant to help me calm down but did the opposite, because there she was, barely able to stand, yet she drew me into her little body to comfort me. Held me in her arms, sat me down, her words instantly soothing me. A mother's voice is therapeutic from conception. It comforts, tranquilizes, and I have missed so many things that only she could have taught me, that every word she shed was a stab to my already bleeding heart. She should have never been stripped of her rights to be a mother.

  No matter how many times I thought my father might have killed my mother, I always convinced myself otherwise. Clarence Winslow was an evil bastard. He threw me into this life with all the gusto he had. A sink-swim-or-die life that deep down inside I never really wanted. Sure, I loved the idea of having anything I wanted within reach, but none of it mattered. Not when you're alone. And definitely not by the teaching hand of the man who controlled my life.

  I’m so angry with myself right now that if it were possible to go back to that day he told me my mother was gone, I would beat some sense into my young self. I was and still am smarter than believing anything that came out his mouth. He was pure evil.

  Right now, though, as I sit here holding my mother’s hand and feeling the vibes from four angry men bouncing off the walls, I’ve come to learn that I don’t want anything to do with that life anymore. His legacy can go straight to hell. Once this is over and the truth is exposed, I’m giving it all away. Every last dime. I’ll choose a charity for abused women. One that will be named in honor of my incredible mother. Her strength will be the logo showing other women anything is possible.

  “What did you have on him, Aunt Louisa?” Curtis leans across the counter and takes her hands tenderly in his. The pain, anger, and the unknown etched across his tired-looking face.

  She stares at him for the longest time. She has something big to tell us, but I’m not sure she has the energy in her for it. Her mouth opening, closing repeatedly.

  “I… are you sure he’s dead, because I can’t go through another second wondering if he’ll follow through with his threats to kill you and Caitlin.”

  “What the fuck?” Curtis roars so loud she jumps.

  “I’m sorry,” he tells her. But it’s too late. She’s drawing back into her shell. Her eyes are going blank. Her entire body is shaking.

  “Mom,” I say, hoping she can hear me. I need to bring her back the same way she did me.

  “Babe. Let me put her to bed. Whatever it is she needs to tell us can wait.”

  Katch. Always my reasonable man.

  “Okay. I’m going to stay with her.”

  I know he understands, but as possessive as he is and the way I felt his need to get to me searing through my skin like a livewire when I almost lost it a few moments ago, I need to hear it for myself.

  “I know you do.” I reach up and stroke his beard.

  I want to tell him how much I love him again in spite of these men standing here. Katch may be showing a sensitive side of himself right now, but he’s not the type of man to let others see his softer side, even if it’s written all over him like it is now. It’s an invisible ink etched on his skin, and I’m the only one able to read it.

  “They must have really done a number on her. I’m sorry, cuz.” Curtis looks as defeated as I feel.

  “This isn’t your fault. It’s none of ours. We all want to know what she’s talking about, and she’ll tell us. In the meantime, we need to figure out a way to get our hands on Vince,” I say as I stand.

  They can deal with this. I’m taking her to bed.

  “Appreciate that. We’ll figure it out. Get her down. Rachel was picking the girls up then driving over to drop off some broth and whatever else the doctor had on a list of food to feed her. You need to wake her to eat. I’ll talk to you guys later,” he says quietly.

  “I will. Tell her thank you and kiss those girls for me. I miss them.” He nods, smiles tightly, kisses the top of my head, and I watch the only man who has cared about me walk out of the house. That is, until Katch.

  I pull back the covers on the bed once we make it to the room and swallow back the burning lump in my throat that wants to pull me under. She’s so tiny, yet her heart is so large and powerful.

  “I’m proud of you.” His words catch me off-guard.

  “I haven't done anything to make anyone proud of me, Katch. In fact, if you knew some of the things I’ve done, you just might toss me out of here.” I lean down and pull the covers over my mother.

  “I doubt that. Have you forgotten who you're fucking?” He whispers the last word.

  “God, the way you said that makes it sound dirty. As if it’s a crime for me to care about you.”

  “It is a crime. One you didn’t think through before you jumped into bed with me. You can’t ever go back to the way your life was before, and I ain’t talking about all the shit that’s going on. I’m talking about me and you being on opposites sides of the law. I kill people. I’m never going to change. You and I are so different from one another that if we had met under any other circumstances, it would be downright comical. You say you love me, and I believe you do, baby. But while you're sitting in here pining away on how to seek revenge, you better think hard, Caitlin. ‘Cause I’m not lying to you when I say I’m going to kill every damn motherfucker who hurt you.”

  “I believe you. I want a new life,” I whisper. “You know, I’ve turned a blind eye in a murder case. The man should’ve been put away for life. I made a deal with the devil and let him walk. Want to know why? Because back then, I was fucking worse than any criminal. I needed the leverage for my next case because it had a higher precedent. I’m worse than you, Katch. I’ve never killed, but I’ve let killers get away. Bad guys. Ones who kill for the joy of it with no purpose behind it.”

  I can’t have my mother hearing this if she were to wake up. I reach for his hand. Pull him out into the hall to talk.

  “Let me do my job. You find anything and everything you can on Vince. Bank records. Wire transfers. How much he makes for a living. All of it. Trust me, he will wish that you did kill him by the time I finish with him. I’m good at what I do. I may have told you earlier to take care of it, but after seeing my mother stand on her own two feet and then turn around and lose it after Curtis raised his voice, I will not subject her to any more violence. I need you to trust me the same way I trust you, Katch. And”—I reach up and cup his face. He needs to hear me, see me and kno
w that I mean every word of what I’m about to tell him—“when a person loves someone, they sacrifice, Katch. They give and they take. I’ve had very few people in my life who have loved me for me. You may not admit it. Hell, you may never, and that’s okay because I know you love me. I know you do. I’m not giving up anything for you. I’m giving it up for me. Because for once in my life I’m doing something for me. That me is you, Katch.”

  “Not going to make a promise, because the cold, hard truth is I’m your fucking protector now. That’s how I love.” He bends down, kissing me quickly before turning and strutting down the hall.

  God, he really does have a nice ass. His actual ass and him being the overprotective ass. I love it all.

  16

  Katch

  The only person I can remember saying ‘I love you’ to was my brother. The day we buried him was the day I promised myself that any form of love for me was staying down that hole with him. Buried six feet underground. I lost myself the day he died.

  I beat people’s ass; I fucked random chicks. I stole, killed, and did things that a person will never get redemption for.

  This woman before me won’t change the way I am, but I’ll be a Goddamn motherfucker if she hasn’t somehow made that love claw through the dirt to the surface.

  I do love her. I just can’t get the words to come out of my mouth. The timing is off. I have no idea how to say them, or if I’m simply caught up in a fantasy that a woman like her could possibly fall for a cold-hearted killer like me. It’s surreal, bizarre, and one of the things I stayed clear of. When and if I do tell her, it won’t be like this. She deserves to hear it when there isn’t anything standing between us.

  I stop midway down the hall and turn back to my sexy girl, who is leaning on the doorjamb, looking like a goddess in all of her perfectly imperfect perfection.

  “I hear you, Caitlin. I’ll give you this one time, and that’s it. But if he tries to touch you or look at you in a way I don’t approve of, I don’t care what you say or hear.” I point my finger toward her. “I’ll kill him. You get me?” I listened to her; now, she needs to hear me. All of what I’m saying is a lie. I don’t work in her world. There is no way I will allow that man to stay breathing after the shit he’s done to her and her mother. Not going to happen.

  “Yes,” she responds breathlessly.

  “And for the record. There ain’t nothing dirty except my mind when I fuck you. You’re it for me, baby. You get me?”

  That’s the closest I can get to telling her how I feel right now. I’ll give her the words she needs someday.

  “I get you.” She smiles.

  Fuck, those lips are perfect, and I’d do anything to have them wrapped around my cock. Again, timing sucks.

  “You got keys to your office, your dad’s office? His house?” I need to change the subject, get down to business here.

  “Yeah. In my purse.”

  “I’m going to take them. You care if I get them?” Christ, if me asking someone if they care ain’t a sign this woman means more to me than I’m willing to admit, then I don’t know what is. I don’t ask; I take.

  She smirks, pushes away from the wall, and waltzes toward me. Her hands run through my beard. It does something to my soul every time she does it. I’m not sure if she’s soothing it or lighting it on fire. Don’t matter; her touch sets me on fire in a way no one has before.

  “You’re asking if you can get in my purse when you so clearly dug through it already?” Ah. She’s talking about how I knew she was on birth control.

  “I said I saw them in your purse. Never said I went through it. The Goddamn thing is the size of Texas. You left it wide open.”

  If she presses any closer into me, I’m going to have to march her across the hall and bend her over, tug those tight jeans down, and mark her skin with my hands.

  “Oh, well, in that case, sure,” she responds sarcastically.

  “Don’t tempt me with that sassy mouth, Hollywood. Now, get in there with your mom before I change my mind and put your mouth to good use.” I kiss her lightly, knowing good and well that if I touch my tongue to hers, it will lead to us fucking.

  I have to force myself to step away from her. Never in my fucking life have I experienced anything like this. My chest that used to be tight and closed off is slowly loosening and opening up. Feeling all that warm, fuzzy shit I have no business feeling. I’ll be damned if it doesn’t feel good knowing I have someone as incredible as her.

  I run my hands through my hair. My brain is screaming it could really go for a joint right about now to settle all the racing dark thoughts swirling in my mind, but I need to stay on high alert. Curtis left Brick behind for a set of extra eyes, and I need to get those keys to Snake. He’s got a job to do.

  I open up the fridge to grab a beer after getting her keys, texting Snake to get his ass here as soon as the sun rises. I see the broth, some juice, and a few other items that Rachel must have dropped off. Just seeing that shit next to all our food that I still haven’t cooked for her spikes my level of anger more. Never could figure out why the innocent people in this world suffer from the hands of the devil's pawns. Especially a man mistreating a woman in a way even my fucked-up head can’t comprehend. What happened to Louisa is one of the most inhumane things I can think of. Makes me fucking sick.

  “One of these days, I’m going to cook for you and eat you for dessert,” I whisper, slam the door shut, and settle on the bottle of Jack on the counter. I flip open my own laptop to do a bit of research on Vince. My next kill. I get Caitlin’s message, and I’ll do my best to honor it. The sad truth is, it’s not in my DNA. I’ll need to know he’s dead. Prison time won’t do. He’d still have the power to reach out to touch her, her mother, or any other innocent victim. I tip the bottle back and allow the brown liquid to burn my throat and coat my stomach. There’s a tingling sensation at the base of my spine that won’t go away. Not even this can touch it. It’s a bad sign that danger is on the way.

  The bottle of Jack is nearly empty after a solid hour of searching and coming up with the same fucking facts. The Jack has done nothing to burn out the sizzle in my spine or the harping in my skull. Something ain’t adding up here.

  I stare into Vince’s cold eyes and know he’s coming for her. He has to know she would run to Curtis. It’s a good thing Curtis is one of the few people I trust and that he locks his shit down tight in making sure not a damn soul knows when he’s coming or going, because this warped cop is hiding something big. “What you hiding, motherfucker?” I stare into his beady little eyes, wishing he were in front of me so I could beat the truth out of him.

  I click on one more link robotically, knowing it will be another dead end. I skim the article about the noble officer Lawson who saved a man about to take his life. Vince ended up in rushing water in a river and talked the man down who apparently had a gun to his own head.

  The shit goes on and on, praising the officer’s courage and dedication to the job saving the man. His name was mentioned as a candidate for Sheriff in the next election.

  “What the fuck?” I whisper to the glowing computer screen when I see Caitlin’s dad standing next to him.

  I’ve only seen pictures of the bastard, but I know it’s him. Why in the hell would a lawyer be highlighted in this article, shaking the officer’s hand? I roam over the caption of the picture.

  “Longtime friends stand beside each other in a moment of celebration. This duo has been known for the campaign to putting an end to meth on the streets. An outstanding duo from the law.” You have got to be kidding me.

  “What year was this?” I scroll up and connect the dots. Two days before her mother’s presumed death. Curiosity gets the best of me. I know what I’m going to find before I search for it.

  “What’s the end game, you slimy bastards?”

  I click on the link of the man’s name who was saved from committing suicide. Jude Knight, a struggling young man from a bad home who had been fighting demons
his whole life. I immediately see a link to his obituary.

  “Interesting.” I knew it. I’d bet anything this Jude Knight’s body was the one burned beyond recognition in her mother’s accident.

  How fucking convenient that they saved a man then turned right around and killed him. The poor fuck was the perfect target. And here I thought I was the best at covering up the crimes I committed. Well, I am. There is no way I’d have my face, name, or any damn thing connected to shit like this. “Blinded by all the dollar signs in your eyes. How’s it feel that all your money is rotting somewhere, you slimy bastard.”

  I grab a piece of paper and write down the three names: Clarence, Vince, Jude. And the word ‘drugs.’ But after that, I really struggle to piece everything together. I draw lines and plot out scenarios in my head, but nothing comes to light except the fact I know they killed Jude and that drugs are involved somehow, but how? They have to be silent dealers.

  Caitlin is also in this mix, but fuck if I will even write the letters of her name next to the cunts who have destroyed her life.

  I click on the laptop, making the screen glow again, and search her name. I feel like a fucking fraud doing so. I just need a bit more insight into this fucked-up web. Immediately, Google pulls up pages after pages about the Lady Shark Winslow. I click on the image page before I realize what I’m doing. Her sexy-ass face and body appear in hundreds of pictures. Most of them are of her in the courtroom in sexy-as-hell professional dress suits and those fucking heels. My cock stirs in my jeans, and fuck if I don’t want her right now. The hard edge tugging on her face in each picture turns me on even more. There are a few random ones of her jogging outside on her day off. The gray t-shirt she wears hugs her tits perfectly, and damn, I can feel the weight of them in my hands. How her nipples tighten when I clamp down on them. Shit, how I want to be cupping them right now.