Kat, Knight Watch (Iron Orchids Book 11)

by Danielle Norman

  “Oh my god.” Kat scooted up in her chair, tightening her arms around her legs as she continued listening.

  “I caught him, but we landed in a row of palmetto shrubs. I was sliced to hell and had some deep punctures from the spines, but Julien broke his arm when he landed on me.”

  “Oh my—” Kat covered her mouth—“Thank god that is all there was. I’m sorry about your cuts and stuff, but I think it would be a million times worse had Julien landed in there instead.”

  I nodded, because that was all I could do at that moment as I relived that horrid time in my life.

  “So, you’re saying you think she spray painted ‘whore' on my driveway?”

  “I don’t think it’s impossible.”

  “Did she ever act out like that before?”

  I shrugged. “She was always a bit . . . bat shit.”

  “I bet.” She let out a deep sigh and looked as sad as I felt.

  I reached into my pocket and pulled out the small two-pack of Oreos. “Julien sent these to you since you like them too. He’s sorry someone spelled them wrong on your driveway.”

  Kat gave a weary smile but took the pack, tearing it open and offering me one. “No, thanks, I’m more of a Nutter Butter kind of guy. I swear, I have no idea how or even where to continue with this woman . . . Who does something like that?” I shook my head.

  “Someone who is very unstable, that’s who. Are you sure that she’s off house arrest?” I shrugged. “This is more than just danger, it’s unstable.”

  “Which was her plea, she spent two years in a psyche-evaluation center before being released. She was supposed to spend at least a year on house arrest, and when I alerted the courts that I was moving, they said she wouldn’t be allowed to leave the Parish for a long time.”

  “I want to check on the status of the sentence, can you give me her info? Full name, date of birth, last known address, whatever else you can think of, make of car, relatives, etcetera.”

  “Tamera Michelle Whitaker. She’s thirty-two, birthday November fourth, eighty-eight. Last I knew, she lived on Peach Magnolia Lane in New Orleans. I don’t know the house number. She drives an older blue Acura.”

  “Job? Any family?”

  “She was a hairdresser, but they fired her, so I’m not sure now. As far as family, she has a brother named Caleb, but she said she wasn’t close to him. He’s in prison, I believe.”

  “Must run in the family,” Kat said in a fake whisper that she fully intended for me to hear.

  Kat had no idea how right she was; a conversation that Tammy and I once had seemed to come to the forefront of my mind.

  “I’m worried about my brother. He’s getting out. They say he’s ready to be in normal society, but I don’t know. You don’t get it, Jackson. Caleb used to scare all the neighbors—hell, even our parents were scared of him.”

  “Were you scared of him?”

  “No. He listened to me.”

  “Why was everyone scared of him?”

  “He had some mental issues. He went through this phase where he was very curious and wanted to know how everything worked, including animals. My neighbor found her cat in our garage; Caleb had dissected it.”

  I had cringed, and goosebumps had crawled over my skin. “Why was he sent to prison?”

  “He never outgrew the dissection phase. He’s just curious. He wants to know how things work.”

  “You don’t continue dissecting, that’s not normal, Tammy.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s what the courts said as well. A little girl went missing, and they blamed it on Caleb.”

  “Oh my god. Did he do it?”

  “No. I asked him. He said that he didn’t.”

  “And you believe him?”

  “I do. He’d never lie to me. I’m the only one he listens to.”

  Tammy had been pregnant with Julien when she told me that story, and I thought, what if my son turned out like him?

  “How about her parents?” Kat asked, bringing me back to the current.

  “Both her parents are deceased.”

  “Okay. I want to look into her. In the meantime, be careful and call me if you see her around or if she comes by again. If she does, I can have her arrested. Make a copy of the judgment and keep it on you at all times, an officer will want to see it.”

  “Of course. This may sound crazy but reliving this is exhausting. Can we change the subject, at least until later?”

  “At least.” Kat gave me a half smile and then waited to see where I would lead the conversation.

  “Tonight, can I take you out to eat? Maybe something a little better than bar food?”

  “Are you asking me out, Mr. Boudreaux?” She batted her eyelashes in exaggeration then froze as if suddenly realizing that she was flirting.

  “Don’t stop, I like your flirty side.”

  “Look, I like you, I do. But you and me, we can’t. I told you the truth when I said I wasn’t looking for anything serious. I’m not ready for that.”

  “Yeah, I know. But this is just dinner, an apology for bringing crazy to your driveway. We are neighbors, after all.”

  Kat bit her lower lip.

  “Does that mean you will go out with me?”

  She smiled. “It does.”

  Kat

  Fingering through my jewelry box, I decided on my small diamond studs that my parents gave me for graduation. Once they were slipped in, I gave myself the once-over and headed downstairs, figuring that I’d just walk over and meet Jackson.

  “Shwooop-swooo,” Petra wolf-whistled. “Sexy thing, you make my—crap, I don’t know what rhymes with that. Anyway, you look good.”

  “Thanks, I’m—” The doorbell interrupted what I was saying.

  “Your date must be here,” Petra sang.

  “Not a date, just dinner.”

  “If you say so.”

  I opened the door and smiled. “Hello. I was just getting ready to head your way.”

  “I asked you out, that means I pick you up. By the way, these are for you.” Jackson held out a large bouquet of brightly colored flowers. He still held on to two smaller matching bouquets. “These are for your sisters.”

  “I like him.” Petra reached forward and snagged all three bouquets. “Thank you, sir. Ma’am, would you like for me to put these in a vase for you?”

  I rolled my eyes at her ridiculousness. “Thanks, Pet.”

  “Of course, ma’am, would you prefer the Baccarat or Waterford?”

  “Shut up. I’m leaving.” I smacked Petra on the ass and then turned back to Jackson, who was holding out his hand to me. I took a deep breath and then placed mine in his. “Thank you for the flowers, they’re lovely. And thank you for thinking of Galena and Petra. It means a lot to me, really.”

  The softness of Jackson’s lips caught me by surprise as he kissed my cheek slow enough that his breath had a moment to send tingles down my spine and create an urge between my legs that caused a tightening in my core.

  This was a date, absolutely a date. He tricked me. He opened my door for me, then kissed me once more, cupping my face just so he could stare into my eyes.

  As he drove us to the restaurant, we chitchatted about nothing much.

  “How long have you been riding?”

  I stared at his naked, indented left ring finger. “I’ve been riding for about six years. How about you? Have you ever ridden?”

  “I did. It’s been quite a few years because the roads where I lived were horrible and I worked a lot, so I decided to just sell my bike. But motorcycles are everywhere here.”

  “Blame the weather. It’s so sunny most of the time and our roads—the ones not under constant construction—don’t have potholes.”

  Jackson hit the steering wheel. “That’s it! Potholes. I knew there was something missing on your roads. There are no stinkin’ potholes.”

  “Nope.” I shrugged. “Have you thought about getting another bike now that you’re here?”

  “No, now
that I’m all Julien has, I can’t take a chance.”

  “I understand that, I do. The fatality rate is six times greater than in a car. I totally get it.”

  “But you, you’re different. Your bike sort of forces attention and demands people to pay attention to you.”

  “Well, I hope it does. Although when I ride my Sportster, I understand why motorcyclists get so mad at cars.”

  “When I was younger, I loved my bike because of speed, whipping through traffic, and cutting corners. Do you miss that?”

  “Nah, we do that, in fact next weekend we are. We have a competition, agency against agency. This one is held here. We get to do all kinds of stuff, speed, tricks, you name it. Lots of people come out to watch, it’s sort of a family thing. You should bring Julien, he’d like it. We’re just up at Historic Harley.”

  “I just might do that; he likes all vehicles that are loud.”

  Jackson pulled into Nick’s, and he linked his fingers through mine as he led me to the front door.

  “Welcome to Nick’s, do you have a reservation?”

  “Yes, under the name Boudreaux.”

  “Very good. Manny will show you to your table.” The host pointed to another man, who smiled warmly and gestured for us to follow him.

  Jackson smiled down at me, and I giggled.

  “How is this table?” Manny asked.

  “It’s fine.” Jackson held back a chuckle.

  Another man quickly moved to pull out my chair.

  “Are you Nick, as in the Nick?” I asked him, glanced between the guy’s name tag and Jackson.

  “No, Miss, I’m Nick’s grandson.”

  “I get it. In my family, it seems like most people are named Nick, Nicky, George, Marie, or Christine.”

  “Last name is Gerakios,” Nick sighed.

  “Lappis, totally get it.” I held up my fist, and Nick looked around to see who was watching before he gave me a fist bump. The kid was cool, but this restaurant was already a little too pretentious for me.

  Manny held out the menu to me before handing Jackson his. A-fucking-nother guy came over with a pitcher and began pouring water while Manny shook out my napkin and laid it across my lap. I held the menu and locked eyes with Jackson as he ordered some wine. He smirked when he felt my eyes on him and glanced at me before returning to the wine menu. God, I could get lost in fields of green eyes. What would it hurt if I gave in, and we had just one more night? No strings, just another incredible night.

  We both let out our breaths as soon as all the men had left us alone.

  “That was exhausting,” Jackson said.

  “Right? I wasn’t sure whether to feel pampered or rushed.” The guys who had assisted us were standing between several tables, their eyes constantly scanning. “Is it just me, or do they look like they are casing the joint?”

  “We are probably the only ones who would think that, you know? As a banker, I have to take classes every year on body language and what to look for. You’re a cop, so you have to deal with criminals every day.”

  “Does that mean we’re jaded?” I asked.

  “Or realists. You know, it’s like the optimist sees the eight-ounce glass of water as half full, the pessimist sees it half empty, and the realist sees it as four ounces of water.”

  “Touché.”

  “You know what you’re going to order?” Jackson asked as he closed his menu.

  “Probably the calamari, but the lobster mac and cheese also sounds good.”

  “Want to get the calamari as an appetizer and share it?” Jackson asked. “I was looking at that as well.”

  “Sure, then what are you getting for your meal?” I never knew what I wanted, and what I thought I would order would change when I heard what other people were getting. It was kind of like stomach-envy. Then at the last minute, without fail, I end up ordering something totally different.

  “The diablo shrimp fettuccini. It says that it’s spicy.”

  I took a sip of water, and the server holding the pitcher was at our table to refill my glass before I even set it down. I glanced at him, not totally sure why the hell he just did that. I mean . . . I took one sip.

  After a second, I picked up my glass and took another sip, and he was back topping it off. Interesting. Jackson was leaning back in his chair, a wide smile painted across his face, and I was trying to figure out how to beat this server.

  I watched and waited, tracking his eyes. When he was looking the other way, I quickly took a sip. I slammed the glass down a tad too hard, and he was there with an absorbent thing-a-ma-jig that wasn’t quite a towel but more of a half sponge, blotter thing that he patted the table with to soak up the water that had splashed out of my glass. He then topped off my glass.

  Jackson was laughing.

  “May I take your orders?” Another server stepped up as soon as Water Boy stepped back.

  We ordered, my entertainment of beating the water boy trumped my indecisive mind. “Lobster mac.” I went right back to trying to figure out to beat Water Boy at his refill game.

  “You’re still thinking about the water, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, little one, sit back and learn. I was an only child, so I had to pull my pranks on innocent, unsuspecting people.” Jackson picked up his glass and held it for a second before he brought it to his lips as if he were drinking. As soon as Water Boy moved to us, he pulled it away. “Oh, speaking of pranks, someone pulled one on Max the other day, and I thought it was funny, he didn’t.” Water Boy was at our table, but Jackson put his glass down without having taken a sip, so Water Boy slinked away. “See? Told you.”

  “Okay, I give it to you.” We both cracked up laughing. “Now, what were you saying about Max?”

  “The other night when we got to Sixes, he received a text. He was so frustrated because he couldn’t figure it out. Finally, he showed it to me. It took us way too long to figure out that someone was sending him song lyrics.”

  “‘Call Me Maybe’?”

  “Yeah, how did you—oh my god, it was you?” Jackson smiled. “Well, I’m the one who finally replied at the end.”

  “You knew that song?”

  “Only from the bank. I couldn’t remember who sang it or anything, but it is piped into our music every day. But, why would you send him song lyrics?”

  “It’s something that Harley does to people she knows . . . or doesn’t know, I’m not sure it matters to her. She does it to keep herself entertained.”

  “You all are menaces, you know that?”

  “We’ve been told.” I winked.

  We paused our conversation as the cavalry of men returned with our meals. Once we were all settled and the guys were off to their posts again, we continued our talk.

  “Now that you know Tammy has moved here, are you going to move back or head somewhere else?”

  “Moving to get away was part of it, a fresh start for me since Julien doesn’t really remember her. But I also moved for the promotion; this was a huge jump for me. I have no intention of moving back to New Orleans because she followed me. Plus, I’m finding that I really like it here. I like my new position, the weather . . . the people.”

  “Wow, lots of people?”

  “One in particular.”

  Each compliment he dropped on me was like a feather duster gently clearing away the tough outer layer that I had prided myself on. It left me all gushy and uncomfortable, and I almost wanted to tell him to please stop.

  Our dinner was a blast, and with as stuffy as the restaurant could have been, Jackson having a sense of humor to rival mine made it fun and relaxed.

  “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” Jackson whispered in my ear as he escorted me back to his car.

  “No, I don’t think you have.”

  “Well, you are.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  Jackson leaned closer and nibbled my ear. “Fine, I’ll have to show you. Please let me show you.”


  Jackson and I drove home in peaceable silence until I couldn’t take it anymore. “Thank you for tonight, I loved it.”

  “I don’t want tonight to end.” His words were heavy and raspy.

  “Me neither.”

  “Come home with me,” Jackson asked.

  “Julien?”

  “He’s spending the night with Mindy.”

  I paused for a second. “You know this doesn’t change anything, right? I’m not ready for commitment or long-term.”

  “I know, but I need you. I can’t remember ever feeling so strongly for a woman or having this need to have her next to me.” He pulled into his driveway and then leaned over and gripped my chin, bringing my face to meet his in the middle of the car. “What do you say?”

  “What are we waiting for?” I sighed and then we were both hopping out of his car and racing to his front door. I stepped back as we moved into his house. The toy dump trucks on the floor reminded me that he was a dad and that a kid lived here, and for a second, it put a halt on my libido. Then he moved behind me and slowly unzipped my dress. Kisses followed the path of the zipper.

  “Keep doing that.” I pointed to my back where he’d been kissing.

  “Oh, I plan to.” Jackson led the way upstairs to his room. Compared to the rest of the house, his room was organized. It smelled of leather and spice. Several watches were set on his dresser along with photos of him and Julien.

  Silver and gray bed linens made up his bed to a professional neatness.

  “Now, where was I? Oh, yeah . . .” Jackson pulled me to him and cupped my ass, his fingers digging into the curves. I wanted to jump on him and wrap my legs around him, anything to get closer.

  “God, this feels heavenly,” I sighed.