“Good girl,” I whisper hoarsely, kissing her briefly but then dashing to the closet by the front door, suiting up in tactical gear before I prep Moose in much the same way.
It’s a rare thing but not totally uncommon.
And almost always, non-drill calls are always on a day off or when you just don’t feel like it.
The city that never sleeps.
As per our training, we’re ready and on the road in less than two minutes, the details on my dashboard once we’re in my truck and on the road.
The gates close behind us and Moose and I are back at work.
Another day another dollar.
But there’s something different now, we both feel it.
We both have something waiting for us both once we get home.
“Let’s do this buddy,” I encourage him, but I can see his own senses are picking up something I don’t.
Something I can’t.
The same keen sense a dog has that we humans never understand, and one I see day in day out, taking it all for granted.
Tonight though, it gives me a chill.
Moose looks at me, almost right through me as he seems to sense everything that’s about to go down before we even get there.
And that scares me for the first time in my whole career.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Naomi
Like so many things lately, when it all changes it happens so quickly.
One minute I’m snuggled up with Parker after he’s claimed me, feeling so content so safe once he starts to serve the amazing dinner he’s prepared for us both.
The next he’s on call, disappearing out into the night to deal with god knows what. Even taking Moose with him too, leaving me all alone again.
It’s like he said though, it’s his job. It’s what they do. I’ve seen enough in one day now to start to realize maybe I don’t like what he does.
Maybe I just want Parker and even Moose all to myself.
Just the three of us, uninterrupted.
Like a family.
I stand in his hallway, feeling the emptiness of the house all of a sudden, remembering what he said about not going anywhere and not opening the door to anyone.
Why would I? And where would I even go if I wanted to?
This feels like home now, even as empty as it is and I try my best to eat a little something but end up starting to clear everything away, making sure there are plates of food ready to reheat once Parker and Moose get home.
I keep the candles going, it feels more relaxed that way, but despite all my chores and setting things right for his return, I can’t help the gnawing feeling in my gut.
Something’s wrong. I just know it is.
Trying to push it to the back of my mind, I remake the bed Parker and I just made love in, even finding the linen press and figuring out how to work his washing machine.
I’m that determined not to just sit alone and worry.
When I finally hear the ancient phone in the hall ring, I almost trip over myself trying to answer it fast enough.
“Parker?” I gasp, gripping the handset and twirling the antiquated cotton bound cord.
“This is Mrs. Parker, yes.” A frail but curt voice replies from the other end.
“Oh, I thought it was… Parker,” I hear myself murmur.
“I am Mrs. Parker,” The voice says again sharply. “Who the hell is this?”
“I’m Naomi,” I hear myself reply meekly. Feeling like I’m being told off by a schoolmistress from another century.
“The dog groomer,” I add quickly, justifying my answering the home phone.
The old woman, who I know in a second is Parker’s mom makes a huffing sound.
“Little late for dog grooming, isn’t it?” she snaps. “I’d like to speak with my son if that’s alright?” she says just as sharply, sighing a short breath as if I’m the biggest insult she’s experienced in years.
“I’m afraid Mr. Parker is out. On call for work,” I stammer, trying to hide the tremor in my voice and failing badly.
“Oh god…” The old woman moans. “I tell him and I beg him… Get out of that damned job,” she continues, her voice sounding more shook up than mine all of a sudden.
I tell her that the beeper went off and he and Moose had to leave within a few minutes.
“I just knew something would happen. I knew he should have stayed here with me, with his family,” she says, her voice dropping, taking on a foreboding tone.
“What do you mean?” I retort, not liking how this old woman is freaking me out.
I was having a bad enough feeling before she called.
Maybe Parker was right about me not meeting his mom until he’d buttered her up. She sounds like a real witch.
“Young lady, I’m old, not stupid. I know when my son packs up and takes off without a word that he has something more than that damned dog waiting for him… Tell me about yourself, Naomi,” she croons, suddenly sounding friendly.
Interested.
“I… I’m really just the dog groomer, ma’am,” I tell her, lying.
Still feeling Parker inside me and tasting him on my own breath.
“Uh huh,” she says wistfully.
“I’ll tell him that you-” I try to start to say, but it’s clear she’s already made her mind up about a lot of things.
“I’ll tell you this, Naomi. A cop husband is a bad thing. Never knowing when they’ll be going out and certainly never knowing when he’ll be coming home,” she drawls on.
That Brooklyn accent Parker mentioned? He wasn’t exaggerating.
“His dad, my husband Percy. Rest his soul. They were partners, see? Detectives. Humph!”
I feel my heart freeze, listening to this old woman is like a warning. Preparing me for something bad I know is about to happen tonight.
That’s what it feels like anyway, no matter what I try and tell myself.
“Has he told you yet?” she asks me point blank, making me wonder if Parker forgot to mention she was completely off her rocker, or maybe he just forgot to mention something else.
“Uh… Told me what. Ma’am?” I ask politely.
“I didn’t think so,” she says, a definite edge to her voice.
“It was just before Percy retired from the force. I’d told him to quit for years. God knows we had enough money… But he just wanted to be with his son. He was so proud a father as I’d ever seen.” She announces triumphantly.
My eyes scan the hallway walls again.
The portraits of Parker and his dad, all their achievements. It’s something I can only imagine being a part of.
I can’t see her, but I can feel the tears in his mother’s eyes as she relays her story.
“My boy… That night. He put himself between the death of my husband, his father… He took a bullet for that man. He took a bullet for all of us!” she sniffs.
I feel my own heart shrink, remembering my tiny fingers tracing the huge scar over Parker’s shoulder.
Feeling him, but not knowing anything at all.
“He was shot, twice. But he kept going once he knew his dad was safe and alive he brought down the bastard who did it. He cuffed him, read him his rights and he followed every rule he’d been taught. All the while his strong arm hanging like a chicken wing from gettin’ shot like that,” she gasps.
“That’s the quality of the man my son, and his father. Well. He had to learn it all from somewhere, didn’t he?” she asks me accusingly.
I feel my head nodding as I sniff back a tear of my own.
“He sure did, ma’am,” I let her know. Wishing Parker hadn’t left. Wishing he’d have told me this himself so I wouldn’t have acted so stupid in the presence of a real hero.
Wishing I wasn’t worrying so much like a cop’s wife already.
“Percy died, years later...” the thin voice trails on. “Natural cause he went in his sleep right next to me. God, I miss him!”
There’s a long silence, but I eventuall
y hear her speak again.
Encouraging me, not really warning me this time.
“When you find the man you want in your life? You grab a hold of him and you don’t let go. Hear me?” she squeaks with emotion. The tiredness of the past covering us both like a thick wave, drowning out the needful breaths I have for my own future.
A future I want Parker in.
The future that’s choking me all of a sudden.
“You tell him to call his mother when he has the time, won’t you?” she asks. “And come on up here, the pair of you. Even if you bring that damned dog of his,” she grunts. “Let me have a look at you. You sound like a girl who might do Parker some good… Even if you are half his age.”
I open my mouth in protest, willing some words, but the old lady chuckles softly and hangs up before I can say another word.
I’m stunned.
It’s like the whole family is full of cops. And his mom, like the greatest detective of all, being able to tell so much from such a short phone call.
I can’t say I liked her from the get-go, but there’s something welcoming about her advice.
I almost feel like I’m part of the family already, except it all sounds so grim.
Trying to tell myself that Parker and Moose will be fine, always, I start to tidy up and straighten up the place, as if it needs it.
If it was daylight I’d probably be raking the leaves on the lawn.
The phone rings again not long after, making me jump.
I figure the old woman forgot to tell me something else from her trip down memory lane.
But it’s not her.
It’s Parker.
And he’s deadly serious.
“Naomi? I know I told you to stay put but…Don’t speak, just listen,” he says quickly, and I feel my knees go weak because I know this is all going to be bad news somehow.
“A patrol car will come to the house to get you. Open the gate, the control is by the door, and set the alarm for ‘away’ once you shut the door. Do you understand?” he says.
More of a command than a question.
I’m nodding, eyeing the remote by the door but hear myself tell him, “Your mom called. She seemed to think something was wrong,” I tell him, his short groan sounding more like pain than anything to do with his mother.
“Parker, what’s happened?” I finally ask.
“Just get here, I need you here,” he gasps, letting down his defenses. No more tough guy talk because it’s me he’s dealing with.
“They got Moose… They shot my boy…”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Parker
We’ve done this a thousand times. Two thousand eighty-one to be exact, I have to log each call out with Moose. He’s been my right hand for years now.
The K9 unit is a detection unit, it’s a patrol and an assault unit. A whole force in one truck for just two guys.
One of those guys just happens to be on four legs, not two, and he doesn’t talk shit for a whole twelve-hour shift either.
It’s a high alert call, snipers, and tactical response. The whole bit.
Some known criminals have walled in a team of undercover officers, trying to use them as hostages now that their operation is exposed.
We’ve both done all this before and our training, as well as experience, means we’re the main go to K9 unit on this job.
Big guns move in, take out the trash. Anything that tries to skid down the drain, that’s where Moose and I come in.
Simple.
All in a day’s work. Right?
By the time we’re on the scene, the directive has changed.
Most of the bad guys have surrendered, but there are a couple of rats who’ve evaded capture.
I’m briefed on the scene by a senior officer and instructed to set Moose to work by doing what he does best: sniffing out the bad guys.
A police chopper circles overhead, casting a thick beam of blinding light and flying so low I can hardly hear a word.
Moose is straining on his harness pointing in the opposite direction, whining with what I can tell is his own understanding of the situation.
I’m directed to start tracking the assailants a few blocks north where they were last spotted, but it’s clear Moose has other plans.
“With respect sir,” I inform my colleague. “You can handle traffic and crowd control, this K9 will follow the trail as he sees fit, not your directive.”
I get a sour look but then a shrug.
“Just find these assholes, Parker,” he barks, pressing his finger to his earpiece and moving away from me, dealing with a dozen things at once.
Moose doesn’t even look up at me, he knows which way to go and it’s in the opposite direction.
I’ve given him a sniff of one of the wanted felons’ clothing from the scene.
Some handlers give their K9 a long leash, and in some situations, I would too. But tonight I want things close and tight.
It’s dark and we’re going after known and armed criminals.
I need Moose close to me, and me to him.
A team.
Like my dad and I used to be.
The memory distracts me, and the ache in my shoulder makes me grip his leash a little tighter causing me to stumble.
I loosen my grip on Moose for a second, and he’s off.
I call him back but he’s not having it.
Something in the way he looked at me back in the truck stops me short again, it’s like I’m looking into my dad’s eyes the night I was shot.
C’mon, Parker. Don’t pussy out now. You’ve got a job to do.
Growling at my own moment of indecision, my own apprehension, I hustle to keep up with Moose who I can hear running up ahead around an alley.
This is not going to plan, and if there was anyone else with us they’d have me stand down until I could wrangle my K9.
I can hear the chopper still, moving away from us, the light in the sky giving me no visual down here.
My own heart pounds in my ears and I think of Naomi too, at home, worrying about us both.
Jesus, Parker. Pull it together.
My own instincts kick in, and although I’m trying to catch up to my partner Moose, I feel my hand reaching for my gun as I suddenly slow down once I reach the alleyway.
Cocking my head, I want to call out to Moose, but something isn’t right.
My eyes strain to see anything in the dark and I swallow hard. Knowing somehow that I’m not just being watched, but I’m also being surrounded, outnumbered.
The sound of a gun cocking sees me aiming my flashlight and my gun towards the direction of the sound.
I announce myself as police, wondering where the hell Moose got to before I see the flash.
It happens in slow motion, the same as the last time.
Except this time, tonight it’s Moose who leaps out in front of the bullet, not me.
He’s doing what I did for my partner all those years ago. The most honorable thing anyone could do for their best friend.
My finger’s off the trigger. I won’t fire with Moose anywhere near my line of sight.
But it doesn’t matter now.
I hear him yelp midair and then drop like a stone.
Another round sings past my ear, then the hot stinging tells me I’m hit too.
Kevlar is an amazing thing. Hurts like hell but still convinces you that you’re dying, knocking the wind out of me, I slump to the ground.
Trying to say Moose’s name as I struggle to move towards him.
My first breath in is the radio, notifying my position and that there are two officers down.
In seconds, the wedge of white light from the chopper is over us both, dust and trash blowing in every direction from the alley.
The wail of sirens and the shouts of my comrades as they secure the alley, ordering the suspects to the ground.
I never see the shooter, and frankly, I don’t care anymore. Seeing Moose drop and lying so still, I even struggle to h
ave a single thought.
By the time I reach him, my hands under him I can feel the warmth of his fur matted with something wet. Fresh blood.
I can feel him breathing at least. He’s alive.
“Ah Moose,” I gasp, pressing my face into his fur.
“Hang on buddy, we’ll get you out of here.”
I feel hands on me, other cops asking me where I’m hit. Trying to help me, but it’s Moose I’m worried about.
“I need evac to veterinary care,” I growl, ignoring my own injury.
I lift my boy up into my arms and push past everyone. Reaching the nearest patrol car, I lay him on the front seat, tightening his harness to put pressure on his wound and I take the driver’s side.
Punching the gas and weaving through the wall of cop cars as they swarm the alley.
I radio dispatch, requesting immediate assistance at the only clinic I know will be open to treat Moose.
It’s minutes away and I only hope he can hold on until I get him the help he needs.
By the time I reach the emergency vet, there’s a team waiting, snatching Moose up from the patrol car and whisking him away before I can even say a word.
Someone stops me, pointing out I need medical attention myself, and then I feel it.
Yeah, I took one in the vest but another round has grazed my shoulder, opening an old wound but in a very different way.
I sink into a chair, and someone tells me Moose is gonna make it. He’s been shot and is in shock, but like my own injury, it’s not as bad as it looks.
A paramedic arrives, wanting to take me to the hospital, but I’m not going anywhere.
I know that tonight my dad gets his wish. My mom too.
I’m done.
No more chasing bad guys just to get another scar. No more putting my best friend in the firing line.
And not giving the woman I love a life of worry every time I step out the front door.
Naomi.
I fumble for my phone, calling the only person I can think of who will bend the rules to pick her up and bring her to me.
I told her to stay put, not to open the door to anyone, but a black and white patrol car is on the way to her, to bring her to me.
Groomed For Love: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance Page 9
