Golden Trail (The 'Burg Series)

by Kristen Ashley

  He heard the front office door open and close and he reached out to the desk to pick up his cell. He started to flip it open when Colt’s tall frame filled the doorway and his thumb on his phone stopped when he saw Colt’s expression.

  “Have a minute?” Colt asked.

  “I didn’t until I saw your face,” Layne answered.

  Colt walked in, sat down in one of the two chairs facing Layne’s desk and didn’t say a word or take his eyes from Layne.

  “Give me a second, I gotta call Rocky. I’m already late for dinner,” Layne told him and Colt nodded.

  Layne flipped open the phone and scrolled down to Raquel’s number as he watched Colt lean forward and tag a yellow legal pad from Layne’s desk then he nabbed a pen. He sat back and started writing on the pad while Layne put the phone to his ear.

  It rang once then, “Hey Layne!”

  Layne blinked and his eyes unfocused so much Colt was there but he’d disappeared.

  She sounded excited and happy, excited and happy to hear from him.

  It had been two days since Keira, pasta bake and Rocky spending the night in his bed.

  After that, Rocky had put her shields up but it wasn’t the same game as she’d been playing. It was friendlier, more open but she was still on guard. He let her have that play and backed off, not because he intended actually to back off but because he wanted to soften her up, get her guard down, take her off-balance before he made his next play.

  Not to mention, he had to wait until she was done with her fucking period.

  They’d slept together both nights in his bed. Both nights she started with her back to him and both nights he’d woken with her pinning him to the bed. Each morning, Layne woke before Rocky, waited until she did and also waited while she slid carefully away and exited the bed. Layne never let on that he was awake before her and Rocky never spoke of it. He didn’t know if she knew he was awake and she didn’t share.

  They’d also had dinner at his house both nights. The first night was Wednesday before the Youth Group meeting and when the boys were gone Rocky had been as jumpy as a cat waiting for Tripp and Jasper to get home. Luckily, Devin was there and entertained her with his own particular blend of cantankerous, flirtatious and hilarious. When the boys got home, though, Raquel interrogated them like she’d been trained by the CIA. Even so, they didn’t have much, it was a Church Youth Group and the boys were getting the lay of the land. But Jasper decided to go to the Saturday afternoon meeting as well before he left Tripp to it. They didn’t try to bag anything with a print. The other kids were surprised to see them there, the Layne boys weren’t Church Youth Group kind of guys, their turning up caused a minor sensation and his sons, rightly, didn’t make any rash moves.

  The second night was Thursday and, after dinner, he made Rocky stretch out on the couch with him and watch TV while Tripp took one armchair, Devin the other and Jasper talked on the phone with Keira upstairs while he was supposed to be doing his homework. Rocky didn’t like it but she didn’t fight it, likely because Tripp and Devin were there. She fell asleep with her back to the couch, her cheek to his chest, her arm resting on his abs and her legs tangled with his. And just like eighteen years ago, when he moved after Letterman, she woke, groggy, and he helped her stumble up the stairs, she disappeared in the walk-in closet while he gave her time to change, came out wearing his tee, collapsed in bed and was out in seconds.

  But for two days she didn’t give him an in and she didn’t let her guard down for him to knock her off-balance. She played the part but every word, look and step she executed with extreme caution.

  And now she was greeting him, excited and happy.

  “Hey sweetcheeks,” he greeted back.

  “We’re having hot beef sandwiches for dinner,” she informed him and then finished, “with cheese.”

  “Sounds good, Roc, but I’m gonna be late.”

  There was silence then a disappointed, “Oh.”

  Fuck. He liked Rocky excited and happy, he was not a big fan of Rocky disappointed.

  “Colt came by, we need to talk,” he explained.

  “Um… okay. Are you going to be long?” she asked and Colt moved, Layne looked at him and saw he was leaning forward.

  Colt dropped the legal pad in front of Layne and the words, “Do you sweep?” were written on it.

  Layne’s eyes went to Colt. He wasn’t talking about the floors. He was talking about bugs.

  “Might be awhile,” Layne said to Rocky but his eyes never left Colt as he nodded his head.

  Colt sat back and held Layne’s gaze.

  Rocky hesitated then replied, “I’ll wrap them up. We’ll take them with us and eat on the road.”

  “Perfect, baby,” he murmured. “Gotta go.”

  “Okay, Layne. Tell Colt I said hi.”

  “Will do, Roc, later.”

  “Bye.”

  He flipped his phone shut and Colt didn’t hesitate before saying, “It’s clean?”

  “It’s clean,” Layne replied, moving the phone in his hand, sliding it between his fingers, end to end, then flipping it around and doing the same. “What’s up?”

  “We got a situation,” Colt replied.

  “That being?” Layne asked.

  “Sean’s sister,” Colt told him and Layne’s brows went up.

  “Sean’s sister?”

  “She’s got a tumor on her pituitary gland,” Colt answered.

  That sucked. Sean was a good man, a good cop, a newer detective in the department, he was young, his sister younger but it would suck that anyone was sick. That said, Colt didn’t need to give him this information and therefore Colt had another reason for giving him this information.

  “You’re tellin’ me this because…?” Layne prompted.

  “I’m tellin’ you this because it’s benign, it won’t kill her but it messes with her hormones. She’s gotta have replacement therapy her whole life or she’ll feel like shit. She got diagnosed, had neurosurgery where they got most of the tumor but before they got the tumor, it damaged the gland. That’s not unusual, Sean says the damn thing is the size of a pea and it’s not easy, maneuvering up there. They go through the freaking nose.” He shook his head then went on. “But the gland doesn’t work right and she’s not feelin’ better. She’s got two kids, an asswipe of a husband who bagged on her when she started to get sick, before she was even diagnosed. He’s gone and not comin’ back. Now they’re tellin’ her she has to have an injection, she has to take it every day and they say it’ll help her get back on her feet, feel more like herself. She can’t work but part-time, doesn’t have the energy, quality of life is shit, she needs this injection.”

  “Okay, Colt, now you’re tellin’ me this because…?” Layne repeated.

  “Because, with part-time work, her insurance won’t cover the entirety of the injection and it’s expensive.”

  “You takin’ a collection?” Layne asked but he knew he wasn’t.

  “They say sometimes it takes as long as six months for it to really kick in. She’s got a good job, pay’s all right, but part-time isn’t gonna cut it. Until she gets back on her feet, goes back to full-time, gets decent insurance, she’s gonna need help and that help’s gonna be expensive.”

  Layne stared at Colt and Colt stared back.

  Then Layne whispered, “He’s vulnerable.”

  He meant Sean. Sean wanted his sister to feel better and her kids’ life to get better.

  Which meant he needed money to do it, a lot of it, more than a cop made unless that cop was dirty.

  “Someone’s recruiting,” Colt whispered back.

  Colt knew about Rutledge. This didn’t surprise Layne, not much got by Colt and Rutledge’s slipshod police work would definitely not be lost on Colt.

  Colt also knew about Layne and, more than likely, Merry. This also didn’t surprise Layne.

  “I have to let that cool down,” Layne said quietly.

  “I get you, that doesn’t mean it’s not s
till hot,” Colt replied. “You gotta know what you’re workin’ and who you’re up against.”

  “You gonna let Sean go down?” Layne asked and this did surprise Layne. Those boys took care of their own, like they were blood brothers. And even if they didn’t, Colt, being Colt, wouldn’t let Sean go down.

  “You aren’t the only one lookin’ into this,” Colt returned, he was ticked, not angry, irritated that Layne would even think that. “I understand why Merry didn’t go to the Captain because, bein’ how the Captain is, that’s not a great play and that’s the reason I’m not makin’ that play either. I’ve never seen this shit before but I’ve heard of it. That small of a Department, this small of a town, that shit leaks out, we’re all tarred with the same brush and Cap will fuck it up and it’ll be sure to leak. If we take care of this internal, private, that doesn’t happen. But it’s gotta be taken care of.”

  “Colt, I was shot because of this shit,” Layne said.

  “Yeah, Layne, I remember,” Colt returned.

  “This is dangerous. You and Feb got a young son,” Layne reminded him.

  “And you got two older ones,” Colt shot back.

  Layne shook his head. “Let me work this.”

  “My Department.”

  “Colt, I’m tellin’ you, let me work this.”

  “Sean’ll go down. This shit with his sister, it’s been goin’ on a long time. It’s not good, the whole family’s strugglin’.”

  Layne stared at Colt and got an idea.

  “Rocky,” he said.

  Colt shook his head. “I gotta hope you know what you’re doin’, sendin’ her in there, her gettin’ close to –”

  Colt had noticed that too.

  “Not my choice,” Layne cut him off firmly. “She wants to do something, there’s no talking her out of it. I got her back, so does Merry. What you see with their little chats is as close as she’s gonna get. It makes her feel like she’s doin’ something and I’m givin’ her that. But that’s all she’s doin’.”

  “Then what do you mean, ‘Rocky’?” Colt asked.

  “What I mean is, she does those charity gigs. She helps set them up. I tell her about this, she’ll be all over it. Something else to focus on, not that piece of shit in the Department.”

  Colt grinned. “Cop’s sister goin’ all out for a cop’s sister.”

  Layne grinned back. “All in the family.”

  “It’d be good around about this time, that dirt in the office gettin’ up in his face, Sean’s reminded about family.”

  “Yeah, it’d be good,” Layne agreed.

  Colt grin turned into a smile. “Hear she’s raised a fuckwad of cake.”

  Layne had no idea. He knew she did them because he’d heard about it in passing. He didn’t know how successful she was at it. Though, this was Rocky, if she could talk the School Board into letting her kids listen to rock ‘n’ roll for a week in English Lit class, she could probably raise millions.

  “I’ll talk to her, get her to talk to Sean,” Layne replied.

  “Like that idea, Tanner,” Colt said and Layne nodded then Colt brows went up at the same time the ends of his lips tipped up and he asked, “What’s for dinner?”

  “Hot beef sandwiches,” Layne answered then smiled, “with cheese.”

  “I don’t even know what the fuck that is and it sounds good,” Colt returned.

  It did and Rocky had cooked both nights at his house. She’d come to his place Wednesday night with enough grocery bags in her car to feed twelve for Thanksgiving dinner. The first night was roast chicken with stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy. The second night was pork roast with fried potatoes and fresh baked rolls. Gabby wasn’t much of a cook, she hated doing it and her food tasted like she hated doing it. Devin had been single since his third wife took off with his baseball card collection fifteen years ago and he’d been that way because he was the kind of man who missed his baseball card collection more than his wife. Devin could pour a helluva mixed drink but he wouldn’t know a spatula from a frying pan. Jasper, Tripp and Devin were in ecstasy because Rocky loved to cook and she made roast chicken and pork taste like heaven on a plate.

  Layne sure as fuck liked her food but he liked her cooking in his kitchen for him and his boys better.

  And her being around meant the boys didn’t bitch when they had to clean up.

  Yes, Layne was looking forward to hot beef sandwiches with cheese. But he was hoping that he’d have them with a Rocky, happy and excited to see him.

  “I gotta get to Rocky, brother,” Layne told Colt.

  Colt straightened from the chair saying, “Yeah. See you at the game?”

  Layne palmed his phone and stood too, replying, “Yeah. You goin’ to an away game?”

  Colt smiled at him. “Cal came over yesterday. Over what sounded to be a much-needed bourbon, he told me he was takin’ Keira and Heather because she’s fired up to support her new boyfriend while he plays ball and since she’s had three fender benders since she got her license, Vi isn’t letting her drive outside the city limits and Vi doesn’t trust Heather’s driving any more than Keirry’s. If Cal didn’t say he’d take her, he’d be forced to put duct tape on her mouth and tie her to a chair because she wouldn’t shut up about it. He didn’t think Vi would like that overly much so he said yes. I’m goin’ for moral support.”

  That was about a quarter of the reason Colt was going. Colt was a ‘dogs fan too. He’d played for them years ago and was good enough to get a partial ride to Purdue. That team did good things for him and he remained loyal to the end.

  But the reason Cal told Colt he’d said yes was total bullshit. Joe Callahan was a pushover for that girl. He’d kill for her, her sister and her mother, Layne knew this because Cal got that chance, he pulled the trigger and didn’t blink.

  Layne walked Colt to the door and they shook hands and clapped each other on the arm before Colt took off. Then Layne closed down the office and left, setting the security alarms as he went. He drove home and lifted the garage door but didn’t pull inside then he walked through the garage and into the house.

  Blondie greeted him and if his son’s dog could cross her legs, she would. So Layne unarmed the alarm and let her out back. Then he turned and jogged up the stairs, going direct to his drawers, he pulled out a thermal and then went to the walk-in closet, flipping on light switches as he went. He unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off, throwing it without looking in the direction of the mound of dirty clothes. He pulled on the thermal, yanked a sweater off the built-in shelves in the closet and then tugged that on. He grabbed the scarf his mother bought him for Christmas last year and his leather jacket and headed back to the bedroom, putting them on, and stopped dead, staring at the bed.

  It was made, not like Layne “made” it, yanking up the covers and letting them fall. The comforter was smoothed, the sheet and comforter folded over at the base of the pillows. The four pillows stacked neatly on top of each other, two by two.

  Then he turned and looked at the long, double basin bathroom counter. Next to his toothbrush, Rocky’s pink and white one was in the holder Melody bought that was on Layne’s side of the sink. Also on Layne’s side of the sink was a makeup bag that had exploded. Tubes, bottles and tubs everywhere, applicator brushes, a stick of deodorant, a fancy bottle of perfume, a comb and a bunch of hairpins scattered around.

  That morning, Layne had left before Rocky because he had to get to Indy to follow a man to work, a new case. The man didn’t go straight to work, as suspected. Rocky had brought a bag with her on Thursday night but Layne hadn’t paid much attention to it except the fact that he liked that she brought it. Clearly, Rocky had gotten ready at his place, standing at his basin doing her makeup and hair.

  A memory tugged at him and Layne walked to the bed. He lifted the pillows on his side and found his pajamas folded neatly under it. Then he walked around the bed to Rocky’s side, lifted the pillows and found his tee that she’d been wearing folded under those. Sh
e’d done that, every morning, when they were living together.

  Every morning.

  He dropped the pillows and drew in breath through his nose, smelling the indistinct scent her perfume.

  It was faint but it was still there.

  Then he smiled to himself, turned out the lights, walked swiftly from the room and jogged down the stairs. He let Blondie in, secured the sliding glass door, gave Blondie a rubdown that lasted a lot less time than she liked and he set the alarm at the garage door and jogged to his SUV.

  He swung in and drove to Rocky’s.

  He was two steps from the landing to her door when the door was thrown open and she was out of it. He was one step from the landing when she turned to him, eyes bright, giving him the dimple. He stopped dead at the sight of her and she lifted both of her hands and slapped them, hard, on his chest just under his shoulders. So hard, he was glad he was wearing three layers, and she left her hands where they were.

  “You will not believe what happened!” she cried.

  On his step, eye to eye with her, the dimple appearing to be a permanent fixture, Layne smiled. “What?”

  “I don’t even believe it!” she said on a near shout.

  Layne put his hands to her hips and repeated, “Roc, what?”

  Her head suddenly turned sharply to the side and then she looked back to him and exclaimed, “Oh! We have to go!”

  Then she tore from his hands, turned so quickly her ponytail whipped across his face and flew into the apartment.

  Layne followed her and closed the door, saying, “Rocky.”

  But when he got into the apartment, she was already at the kitchen counter, pulling on a velvet jacket that was another berry color, this time blackberry. It fit her snug over her matching deep purple turtleneck. She buttoned the jacket with one hand and grabbed the handles of a bag that was on the counter.

  “I’ve wrapped up the sandwiches, we’ll eat in the car. I’ve got drinks in the bag too.” She hefted up the bag and handed it to him, ordering, “You carry that.”

  He took it and, considering he thought it contained sandwiches and drinks, its weight surprised him, his arm jerked down with it, she saw it and her shining eyes came to his.