Sullivan (Laurel Springs Emergency Response Team Book 5)

by Laramie Briscoe

  It’s on the top of my tongue to ask about her children, but I stop myself, letting her tell the story in her own way.

  “He’s my next of kin. I’ve outlived my husband and my daughter.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Mrs. Haley.”

  Her brown eyes get a faraway look and the sides crinkle. I wonder what she’s remembering as she smiles.

  “My daughter, Isabelle, passed away ten years ago this winter. The breast cancer got her, and now it’s gotten me,” she whispers, eyes moving down toward the floor.

  God, this gets worse the more I hear.

  “I always thought I had time,” she continues. “Would be able to get my grandson to make changes in his life, but my time is running out.”

  “What do you mean?” I need to have a full view of the picture before I can help.

  “The doctors have said the cancer has spread. There’s nothing else they can do. Soon, they’ll be calling in hospice care and I’ll see my husband and daughter again. I can feel it.” She rubs her arms. “The chill as I near the end of my life. Knowing I won’t be here for the holidays, or to see another birthday, but I’m resigned and ready.”

  “What is it you exactly want to do?”

  “I want to make sure Frank Gentry doesn’t get anything of mine. Whether it be money, property, or the toilet paper I wiped my ass with.”

  It’s tough, but I manage to hide the laugh that threatens to escape. She may be eighty-six-years-old, but she’s spry, and obviously has hard feelings toward her grandson. “Is there anything I should know about?” I pull my legal pad closer to my body, pen poised to take notes. “If he might hurt you, I need to know about it.”

  She gets that far-off look in her eyes again. “It’s not me he might hurt.” The sigh that escapes her chest rattles with the sound of a thousand secrets she must be keeping. “It’s his wife,” she whispers. “I want to leave everything to her, but only if she divorces him.”

  My head snaps back on my neck. These were the last words I expected to hear from her. “I’m sorry? You want her to divorce him?”

  “Yes, she’s a sweet girl and she doesn’t deserve what he does to her.”

  My mouth gets dry, throat tightens. “What does he do to her, Mrs. Haley?”

  She licks her lips, like she has the same reaction as I did. Getting up, I get us both some water, before I sit back down.

  “It’s imperative I know. That way I can be prepared if he chooses to fight.”

  “Can he do that? I thought making the will would prevent him from doing so.”

  “He can try, but I won’t let him win,” I assure her. “Having said that, I need to know what he does to his wife. What does he do to you?”

  Mrs. Haley’s hand shakes as she sets down the glass of water. I’m unsure if it’s from old age, or fear. Either of them piss me off. She finally speaks.

  “He doesn’t do anything to me. I haven’t let him in years. It’s his wife. The things he does to her...” She shakes her head.

  “Please tell me.”

  “He beats her,” she whispers. “He beats her badly. For some reason Montana won’t leave. She loves him.”

  Furiously, I scribble on my legal pad. “It happens to a lot of women. Their abusers isolate them, and they start to believe the only person they can count on is the abuser.”

  She nods. “That’s exactly what he’s done to her.”

  It makes me sick to my stomach when I hear about things like this. “Okay.” I jot down a few notes, trying to think on the go. “We need to prepare in case he does fight her getting your estate. Have the police ever been called on him?”

  “Yes, like clockwork every two weeks. That’s the longest he can seem to go without punishing her.”

  “What’s he punishing her for?”

  “I don’t know.” She rubs at her face. “I’ve tried to ask and he acted like he wanted to get violent with me.” Her voice shakes. “If he were to hit me the way he hits her, he’d kill me with the first punch, so I stopped asking.”

  “Every two weeks?”

  “Every two weeks.”

  “I’ve got some good information here. Let’s meet again on Tuesday. Is that good for you? I’ll have a draft of the will and hopefully I’ll have some information on Frank. Is Frank his real name?”

  Her eyes lower, like she’s ashamed for telling me about him.

  “It’s normal, Mrs. Haley. It’s normal to feel as if you’re tattling on a loved one. Part of the abuse. Trust me when I say you aren’t the first, and you won’t be the last. Perhaps, though, you can save Montana’s life. I’d have to think no one else has thought about her in that way for a while.”

  “Her family doesn’t speak to her anymore. He’s pushed them so far out of her life, I’m not sure they’ll ever be able to heal the wound.”

  “Hopefully they’ll be able to. It takes a little bit, but once she’s away from him, she’ll heal.”

  “Who’s to say this will convince her to leave?”

  Flipping over the paperwork she’s given me, I check the dollar amount Mrs. Haley’s putting in her trust. “I’d say two point five million would be enough for anyone to leave. She can do a lot with money like this.”

  “So could he, if he were able to get it.”

  “Which is why I need you to tell me if Frank is his given name,” I guide her delicately back to the question I asked before.

  “It’s Franklin,” she answers. “Franklin Beaumont Gentry.”

  “That’s a damn mouth full,” I mumble.

  She laughs slightly. “Big name was meant to be for a big man. We had huge dreams for him; all of us did. He was going to sit in the Senate. Make Laurel Springs and this family proud.”

  I don’t want to ask, but at this point nothing can stop me. I have to know the whole story. “What was his failure to launch?”

  “Being spoiled was the first problem. That was partially thanks to us, and then his mother who wanted to make up for an absentee father. But what really did it was when he found the drugs.”

  “He’s a drug addict?” I make another note.

  “Supposedly recovering.” She rolls her eyes. “I’ll believe it when I see it. He’s been to numerous rehab programs in the last fifteen years. Nothing’s ever stuck.”

  “This gives me a lot to go on. I’ll be doing some background work. Is there anything you want to warn me about? Anything you don’t want me to look into? If there are skeletons in the closet, now’s the time to tell me, Mrs. Haley.”

  “None in mine, dear.” She reaches over the desk, patting me on the hand. “Mine came out in the open years ago. I have nothing to hide.”

  I turn my hand over, grasping hers. “I’ll make sure this goes the way you want it to.”

  “I know you will, Shelby. I’m counting on you.”

  “And I promise not to let you down.”

  She gets up to leave, and I walk her out, before grabbing my briefcase and purse, heading straight for Laurel Springs PD.

  Chapter 9

  Shelby

  “You’re not telling me what I wanna know, Ransom.” I blow out a breath, annoyed at the man standing in front of me.

  He adjusts his stance, crossing his arms over his chest. Rambo whines, sitting at attention. The dog knows me, I reach out and give him a pet on the head. When I look back up at Ransom, he’s side-eyeing me.

  “Shelby, if it were up to me, I’d give you the info you want, but you have to make an open records request. It’s an ongoing investigation.”

  “That’s horseshit and you know it. If I’d been listening to the scanner, I would’ve heard it.”

  “Then I suggest you get a scanner, or talk to your BFF Sullivan and see if he can help you.”

  This time I cross my arms over my chest, tilting my head to the side. “I have a scanner. Don’t be a dick, Ransom.”

  He chuckles, uncrossing his arms and running a hand down his face. “Not my intention, Counselor.”

  “
Don’t call me that,” I snap.

  “But it’s okay for Sully to call you that, huh? I’m tellin’ ya. Go talk to him, he’d probably get you what you want to know.”

  “Don’t do me any favors, Thompson.”

  A smirk works across his face. It gives the impression he was a super cutie kid before he turned into the man he is now, and even that pisses me off. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Counselor.”

  “Oh, screw you.”

  I turn to walk out of Laurel Springs PD, but a whine stops me in my tracks. Pivoting on my heels, I go back to where Rambo stands, reach down and give him a few more head scratches, before he puts his paw up for me to shake. Obliging him, I coo, “You’re such a good boy. I have no idea how you turned out so sweet when your owner’s such a douche canoe.”

  “Douche canoe?” He snorts, laughing loudly.

  Ignoring him, I walk out of the building and to my car. When I get in, I’m still fuming, but I’m beginning to think he’s right. The person who can help me is the one that’s waiting on me to get home.

  Forty-five minutes later I knock on Sully’s door, holding a bottle of Southern Comfort in one hand and a jug of Milo’s Sweet Tea in my other. He leans in the doorway, looking like a fucking model, wearing a grin on his face.

  “What?” I ask when I can no longer stand it.

  “Got a few texts from Ransom.”

  I roll my eyes, waiting for him to let me in. “Did he tattle on me?”

  His gaze drops down to where I hold my drinks. “You hoping to get me feelin’ good and then question me about the info you need for your client?”

  Now that pisses me off. Stepping up to him, I stand on my tiptoes. Gone are my professional clothes, and along with those are the heels that put me in the vicinity of his height. Now I wear a pair of cut-off shorts, flip-flops, and a t-shirt. Even though it’s chilly, I know things between us are bound to heat up. “No, I was hoping to have an adult conversation and some adult beverages with you. The only way I wanted to get you feeling good was with my mouth on yours.”

  Those brown eyes of his get darker, his eyelids come down slightly. “Yeah?” he asks before he bites his lip, tilting his head closer to mine.

  “Yeah. The only way this is gonna work is if we’re honest with each other, Sullivan.”

  “Agreed. So, Shelby what are we? Friends with benefits? Trying to have a relationship?”

  I’ve thought about this more than I care to admit. “How about we see where it goes? Expectations lead to disappointment, and I never want that with you.”

  Making a noise in the back of his throat that appears to be agreement, he reaches out with his big hand to cup my hip.

  Fucking finally.

  Feels like thirteen thousand years I’ve been waiting for him to touch me.

  “Whatever happens with the job won’t affect us,” I whisper.

  “Promise?” His skin his hot as it touches me between the waistband of my shorts and the hem of my shirt.

  “Promise.”

  He’s leaning in farther, and I open my mouth in anticipation of this kiss I’ve wanted all afternoon.

  “We can still discuss things, right?” he rushes in a jumble of words.

  “Yes,” I snicker. “We can still discuss things, but neither one of us is going to use the other to get what we need.”

  “Oh, there’s a lot I need you can help me with, Counselor.”

  And with those words he closes the distance between us. His kissable lips meet mine, and I almost drop the bottle of Southern Comfort as I go to wrap my arm around him. He hooks his finger in my belt loop, pulling me toward his body. If I knew it wouldn’t make a mess, I’d let everything go and wrap my legs around his waist right now.

  When he pulls back, I stumble and without his strong presence I might have fallen at his feet. “You better go ahead and come on inside.” He moves to let me in.

  It’s hard to walk with my knees weak, but I do. Going over to his counter, I put our drinks down before turning to rummage in his cabinets for two glasses. I’ve been here enough times that I know exactly where to go, but I’m looking for one in particular. A plastic tumbler with a Texas Longhorn logo on it.

  He eyes the cup in my hand. “I can’t believe you put that piece of shit in my cabinet.”

  I grin, putting the plastic cup under his ice dispenser in the door. When I have enough, I start mixing my SoCo and iced tea. “Call it a piece of shit all you want, Sully. At any time you coulda thrown it away, but yet here it is. Each and every time I come here and go to make myself a drink. It’s in the back, but it’s always there.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Stop grunting like a cave man. Do you want one?” I tip my drink to him.

  “Not in that cup, I don’t.”

  “What?” I put the lip up to my mouth, licking the residue off of it.

  His body tightens, his eyes flash with something I’ve never seen before.

  “You don’t wanna put your mouth where mine’s been?”

  I don’t know who this woman is that all of a sudden became outspoken and such a tease, but I’m not ready to put her back under wraps yet.

  “I’ll put mine where yours has been all day, but not on a Longhorn cup. I’ll get what I need right from the source.”

  He watches as I take a drink and set the cup down. Before I know it, he’s around the counter, his hands in my hair, tilting my head back, and claiming my mouth with his. For long seconds his tongue pushes against mine, tangling this way and that. When he pulls away, I’m unsure what time it is and how long we’ve been standing in his kitchen.

  “You wanna make me one of those?”

  The tone of his voice sends chills up and down my arms. Aroused, southern, a tinge of longing. It’s all there and at the same time, it’s all mine.

  “Sure you don’t wanna drink mine?” I smirk.

  “We talked about that.”

  “We did, didn’t we?”

  I pull away, going about making him the drink he requested. Sullivan has a seat at the bar, watching as I work. “So what did you go talk to Ransom about?”

  Turning to look at him over my shoulder, I put a hand on my hip as I get his ice. “Like he didn’t tell you? That man has a mouth a mile wide.”

  He laughs. “Ransom can keep a secret when he needs to.”

  “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  “That’s the thing.” Sullivan pushes his hair out of his eyes. “You’ll never see it, ‘cause he’ll never reveal it.”

  “Whatever you say. I’m sure he told you what I was there for.”

  When I hand him his drink, he takes a big one, before he sets the glass down, eyes locked on mine. “Frank Gentry isn’t someone to mess with, Shelby.”

  Ransom did tell him what I wanted.

  “I’m not messing with him; I’m simply trying to find out information.”

  “Being curious about someone like him isn’t smart.”

  My mood deflates slightly. “You won’t help me?”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to, but like Ransom said, it’s an ongoing investigation. You’d have to file an open records request and we both know how long that could take.”

  “Why is it an investigation?”

  “I wish I could tell you, Counselor, but I can’t.”

  Frustrated, I take another drink. “Are you telling me what Ransom did?”

  “What did he tell you?”

  “To get a damn scanner and listen. Since I already have one at home, I’m considering getting one for my office.”

  Throwing his head back he laughs so hard I have to join in. “Sometimes Ransom is too smart for his own good.”

  “A smartass,” I correct him, brushing tears of laughter from my eyes.

  “Yeah, heard you called him a douche canoe, gave Rambo some love, and then walked out.”

  “See? He’s a gossip.”

  “Didn’t say I heard all that from Ransom.”

  “Then who’d you hear it
from?”

  His lips spread into a huge smile. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  “Are you gonna tell me?”

  “Depends.” He reaches over, grabbing a lock of my hair with his fingers. Slowly, he twirls it around the knuckle, before letting it go.

  “Depends on what?”

  “On if you’ve been good enough to deserve the answer or not.”

  “I assure you, Sully. I’m always good.”

  “Same goes, Shelby. Same goes.”

  Chapter 10

  Sullivan

  “If my mama found out, she’d kill me.” I wave off the money Shelby is trying to force into my hand. “Besides, you brought the drinks.” I pick my cup up, downing it as I make my way to the door. The doorbell rings again. “Coming.”

  “That’ll be twenty-three even.”

  I put thirty in the delivery guy’s hand. “Keep the change.”

  Shelby’s at my kitchen counter again, mixing herself another drink. “You sure you want a second one so quick?”

  “Today’s been a real shit day, Sully.” She uses her finger to stir, before bringing it up to her mouth.

  The way she closes her lips around the tip goes right to my dick. I know she didn’t mean for it to, but I’m a man who finds her attractive. I can’t seem to help it. Walking over, I grab her hand, before bringing it up to my lips. “Why don’t you let me make it better for you?”

  Her eyes are dark as she watches my movements, seeming to take in every single one.

  “Oh yeah?” She brings her bottom lip in between her teeth. “What would you do to make it better for me?”

  There’s only one thing I can say. “Whatever you want me to.”

  Lifting her cup off the counter, she takes a long swallow. “You know what I want more than anything?”

  “What?”

  Shelby comes closer, sidling up to my body. Her fingers grip my t-shirt. The low-level buzz that’s always between us amps up in volume. The words she speaks are barely above a whisper, but they could be a shout in this room because it’s so quiet. “I want you to give me what it is you think I want. I make decisions all the time.” She curls her finger under the hem of my shirt. “When I’m with you, I don’t want to think. I just want to feel.”