Gridlocked (Bounty County Series Book 3)

by Maren Lee

  “Don't say shit like that, Ma! He might hear you!” Wesson looked down at him. “Grandma didn't mean it, buddy.”

  Molly looked confused. “Your cat is here? Like living here?”

  “No, Kobe Michael just came over for the day. He likes to visit my mom and gets upset when I leave him. One time he didn't look at me for a week.” Wesson took a bite of his sandwich. “It was rough,” he mumbled with his mouth full.

  “How did I not know that your cat’s name was Kobe?” Molly smiled.

  “Kobe Michael,” he corrected her.

  “How did I not know this?”

  Wesson shrugged. “I’ve only had him since right after Jake and Lane’s wedding. I guess it never came up?”

  “He dressed the cat up during the winter. Little bastard has nicer snow boots than I do,” Rachel whispered, conspiratorially.

  Molly just couldn't help herself, her body began shaking as the laughter escaped her throat.

  “How would you feel if you had your toes and private parts out there in the freezing cold?” Wesson snapped.

  “Not the same, Wess,” Molly giggled.

  “So not the same, son.” His mom joined in Molly's laughter.

  “They're just teasing, Kobe Michael!” Wesson shouted. “You're gonna get some dirty looks from your grand-kitty, mom.”

  “Okay. I wouldn't want that. I'll be nice.” Rachel looked over to Molly and smiled.

  “Thank you. Now let's have a conflict free lunch and only talk nicely about Kobe Michael.”

  “I can do that.” His mom responded, suppressing her laughter.

  “Me too,” Molly winked at his mom. “How is the security system coming along?” she asked Wesson.

  “Slowly but surely. I’m upgrading everything. Putting a 10-foot perimeter around the house and some flood lamps too.”

  Rachel shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Mom, sorry. I told Molly why I was here today. She knows Dad is out this week.”

  “I know you’re probably always covered by your son and the rest of his law enforcement friends, but I’m here if you need anything, Rachel,” Molly offered. “I’m sure it’s not easy.”

  “You ever treated him out at the prison? Randy Duschert?”

  “I’m sorry, Rachel. I don’t recognize the name, but even if I did, I wouldn’t be able to tell you anything,” she replied, regretfully.

  “Yeah, Ma. HIPPO and shit. You know that.”

  Molly smiled. “HIPAA,” she corrected him. “But yeah, that’s one of the reasons. But also, Montana has super strict laws on confidentiality of mental health records. I can barely talk about their issues with myself.”

  “No, I get it. It’s just… I’m getting barely any warning and the last time I saw him he was being taken away in shackles in the courtroom. Fucker. I’m hoping for the best. But I’d be crazy if I wasn’t scared.”

  Shit, Ma. Wesson was worried she’d been putting on a brave front. And this little conversation confirmed that.

  “Don’t worry, Mom. I got you.” Wesson reached over and grabbed her hand.

  “I know, Son.” She patted his hand.

  “I hope this isn’t too forward of me to ask, but why do you and Wesson use the last name ‘Campbell’ when his last name is ‘Duschert.’”

  “That’s not too forward, Molly. Valid question. When I got pregnant with Wesson, we weren’t married and I honestly wasn’t sure if he’d stick around. So I put my last name on his birth certificate. When we finally did get married, I told him I changed it, but I never really did. He didn’t care enough to ever check. By the time Wesson was in school, he was gone so much and not a part of our life except for once every couple of months, so he never realized his boy was using my last name.”

  “Glad I didn’t have to take that son-of-a-bitch’s last name. Want nothing from him,” Wesson stated, attempting to conceal his hatred. He could tell that made Molly sad, so he grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze.

  “Oh, look at me! I didn’t mean to bring down this fun lunch! Let’s move on and talk about something more fun! Where are you taking this sweet thing for lunch tomorrow? There are a lot of good choices in Billings!”

  “Was thinking Walkers. You like Walkers, Moll?” he asked.

  “I actually haven’t been there, but I’ve heard it’s great. Should I block off the rest of my day? I don’t book additional appointments on the days I’m at the prison, but I do usually work a bit when I get back to the office.”

  “I can probably only get away with an hour-and-a-half lunch and then I’m on shift until 7 p.m. Then I could swing by and see you again,” he said hopefully.

  “That’d be great.”

  Wesson looked over and his mother was staring at the two of them dreamily. She was probably already picturing her grandchildren running around the house.

  “Ma. Snap out of it. It’s date number one.”

  “Hot tin roof, Wesson. Hot tin roof.”

  Wesson laughed. Damn it, he loved his mom, and he could tell there was a possibility that he could end up loving the blonde bombardier staring at him too.

  ➰

  Molly wasn’t an expert in “meeting the parents,” but she was pretty sure that lunch could not have gone better. And strangely, it seemed as if Wesson’s mother was an advocate against the three-date rule. She laughed at the way the two interacted. She definitely knew where the Wesson-isms came from now. Shit or get off the hot tin roof. She grinned in her empty office.

  Molly had never felt as if there weren’t enough love in her life. Sure, she’d definitely felt that something was missing; that something had been taken from her that night so long ago. But she never felt like there was a hole in her heart. She never felt as though she was unworthy. Molly had great parents. She’d spent her early childhood in Imminence, but when a job opportunity for her mom came up in Billings, they’d moved. She’d always had fond memories of this place, and she always felt the pull to come back. Her parents no longer lived in Billings - they’d moved to Jackson, Wyoming, a few years ago - but they talked on an almost daily basis. She didn’t feel like anything had been missing from her life. Until today. Something about being with Wesson and Rachel made Molly feel completely whole and completely wanted. Whatever it was that she felt today made everything right in her world. She didn't know what to make of all this…whatever it was.

  Wish I knew what it was...

  She was excited for the first “official” date. Even if it was just a lunch date. It technically didn’t fall into Wesson’s definition of a “date,” but after all that ribbing from his mom, Molly was pretty sure it was going to count.

  A knock at her door brought Molly out of her thoughts. She looked at the clock. It was 5:30, so her receptionist had already gone home for the day. Who could this be?

  She got up and walked into the lobby and saw him through the glass door. Wesson.

  Her stomach flipped with excitement, warmth spread from her belly to her fingertips. She smiled as she rushed to the door to unlock it and let him in.

  “What are you--” she was cut off by his lips pressing against hers, his tongue diving into her mouth.

  Yesssssss.

  Wesson kicked the door closed with the heel of his foot as he pushed her back up against the wall. She wrapped her arms around his thick neck and hitched her legs up around his waist. He pressed his groin hard in between her legs. Molly moaned at the contact.

  Wesson slowed the kiss down and then gently pulled his mouth from hers.

  “Sorry. I just couldn’t wait until tomorrow to see you again and I wanted to thank you for lunch.”

  He dropped his hands from her ass cheeks and she slid down his body and placed her feet on the ground. She exhaled, heavily.

  “You already thanked me, but I’m not going to complain about that. Wow.”

  “You done with work now?”

  Molly hoped this meant he wanted to take her home and have all the sex.
All the sex. “I can be.”

  “I can’t come over - still gotta fix a few things on my mom’s system, but I would like to walk you to your car.”

  Damn.

  So that’s what Wesson did. And Molly spent night number three (sober night number two) the most sexually frustrated thirty-three year old virgin on the planet.

  And she was out of AA batteries. Molly slammed the drawer in her bathroom shut as she tossed the empty box in her trash.

  Double damn.

  Chapter 6

  “And so, I’d like everyone to give a warm welcome to Ryan Blakesly. I’m sure most of you know him already, but now he’s joining our team. Effective today, Deputy Blakesly begins field training with Campbell. Wess, he's all yours.” Brenden’s voice cut through the conference room. Everyone seemed relatively happy about the hiring decision. Wesson had always liked Ryan.

  “Wesson!” Brenden shouted, “did you hear me?”

  “Fuck. Yeah.”

  “You and Ryan will be doubling up for the next month or so. Show him the ropes.”

  “Pretty sure he knows the ropes, Boss. He’s been a cop longer than I’ve been alive,” he grinned. Everyone in the room laughed. Jake elbowed Ryan in the gut and called him an old man.

  “He knows the city ropes. Not the county. And Jesus, he’s not that old, Wess. He looks like he’s in better shape than you.”

  Wesson smirked and shook his head. That was a big negative ghost rider. Ryan was in good shape for an old man, but no one on the force - not even Justin - was in better shape than Wesson. He wasn’t as tall as some of the other guys, but he ran and lifted like a motherfucker and had a cut body to prove it. He wasn’t vain, well...maybe a little. But he knew his body fat percentage and he knew he blew all of these fuckers out of the shitter. He wasn’t going to argue with his boss, though. Not over this, anyway.

  “Not saying I won’t help him, just saying his experience should give him seniority. He’s gonna be 50 next month.” Wesson had no idea when Ryan’s birthday was or how old he was. He was just guessing.

  “He’s not that old, Wesson. But more to your point, unfortunately the county’s budget doesn’t give him the seniority he deserves, so he’s a deputy until he finishes FTO. Then he’ll advance to corporal, just like you. You’re both in your rig the next few weeks, Campbell. Make sure all your garbage is out of there. Nobody likes a trashed car.”

  “My car is as clean as a stove pipe,” Wesson snapped.

  “Again, clean it out.” Brenden repeated.

  “Yeah, yeah.” He rolled his eyes.

  Wesson couldn't believe they wouldn't hire the old fart at a sergeant's pay. That didn’t seem fair to Wesson, but at least Ryan was getting a job after being shit-canned by the new mayor despite having nothing to do with the previous administration’s shenanigans. The guy played the biggest hand in exposing the former douche-canoe’s crooked ways and this was how he was rewarded?

  “I’m on transport today, old bro, so load your vest with gloves and extra zip ties.”

  Ryan lifted his chin in acknowledgment making sure to get a nice glare in for the name calling.

  “On another note,” Brenden continued. “We’ve seen a threefold increase in heroin overdoses in the state over the past year. We’re not sure if it’s related to Cesar Ruiz and former Mayor Jennings’ situation, but it’s definitely starting to feel that way. Keep your eyes and ears open. Stay safe today.”

  And with that, the meeting was over. Ryan walked over to Wesson.

  “Come on, baby face. Show me the ropes,” he grinned.

  “I’m going to teach you everything you need to know, Grampy Blakesly,” Wesson teased.

  Ryan laughed and shook his head, dismissing Wesson’s insult.

  “We’ve got transport today out to the state prison, and, just FYI, I have a lunch date in Billings.”

  “Who’s the lucky inmate?”

  “Not sure who the lucky inmate is, but the lucky lady is Molly Mooney.”

  “Molly Mooney? The hot-as-fuck psych doc on my list?”

  “Your list? What list?”

  “My list of single ladies I wouldn’t mind puttin’ it to.”

  “What the fuck? Stay the fuck away from her, Barney Fife. She’s mine. I don't wanna have to break your hip.”

  “Now that I know she’s spoken for, she’s off my list, man. Chill.” Ryan laughed. “Barney Fife? Really? Shit...” he shook his head.

  “Okay, well. She and I are having lunch today. We’re meeting at Walkers. So I may be ninety minutes instead of an hour. Don’t rat me out on your first day,” Wesson glared.

  Ryan laughed. “Wouldn’t dream of it. I’ve got a stop I can make in Billings myself, so I’ll drop you off?”

  “That'll work. I think this partnership just might work out, old man,” Wesson grinned.

  “Watch yourself, boy,” Ryan ribbed him.

  “Hey, man. I’m really glad Brenden could find a spot for you. Fucked up what happened with the City.”

  “You and me both, Wess. I may not have the same ranking and I may not be making the same amount of money, but it’s not too far off and I can still make rent and my child support payments, so it could’ve been way worse. I’m a glass-half-full kind of guy right now, brother.”

  “Glad to hear it. You ready to get on with this day?”

  “Let’s do it.”

  Chapter 7

  The buzzer sounded and the large metal door clanked behind Molly, locking her in the sally port. After a moment, the buzzer sounded again and the door in front of her opened, revealing the guard for the Tuesday shift and the metal detector surrounding the entrance to the Montana State Prison, or MSP as it was known to its employees. Molly had been here enough. She knew the routine. She left her purse and her cell in the car so that she wouldn’t have to check it at the front and placed her notebook, pen, her MSP contractor identification badge, and her key fob in the container to pass through the detector.

  “Mornin’, Doc,” the guard greeted her.

  “Good morning, Charles. How’s everything today?”

  “Quiet. Knock on wood.”

  “Well, now that you’ve said it…”

  “I know, I jinxed myself. Damn.” She passed through. No beeps. She was clear. She’d long ago learned not to wear a belt or jewelry. She was only allowed one necklace, one ring, and earrings, so she just decided it was easier to leave it all at home.

  “Good luck today. I heard last night was a little rough. We’re full, Doc. Ain’t nothing good coming out of a full prison.”

  Molly nodded. He was right. With so many drugs coming in and out of Montana, the prisons were full and run by gangs. On top of that, the psychological effect of being jammed into a too small tin can with shitty food and a bunch of other men was profound. This place was a pressure cooker ready to burst. Medicating for control was not something Molly was comfortable with, but some of these guys had serious psychological and behavioral issues. It was inevitable.

  She walked through the concrete corridor to her makeshift office - it looked like it could have been a cell at one point. In fact, there was a cell in the corner for her more dangerous clients. It was a bit disconcerting at first, but Molly soon learned it was just like any other job minus the fact that her clients all wore orange and were often shackled at the ankles and wrists.

  She had about ten minutes to spare before the line of inmates started filing in, so she took a moment to start up her desktop computer (state-issued, nothing fancy) and compile her notes. “Doctor Mooney,” a baritone voice echoed off the concrete ceiling.

  “Warden,” she acknowledged his presence, though she was not her usual friendly self. Something about Chuck Adler rubbed her the wrong way.

  “Rough night last night, Mooney. Death on Block 4. Looks like a suicide. At least it does preliminarily.”

  Oh no. The guys will definitely be on edge today.

  “Thanks for war
ning me.”

  “Fucking so much paperwork.” He rolled his eyes.

  Paperwork? He didn’t even seem concerned about the loss of life.

  “So,” he cleared his throat. “Do you have plans tonight, doctor? I have tickets to Nickelback at MetraPark. You should join me.” He wiggled his eyebrows. Warden Adler wasn’t a bad looking guy, but he was too old for Molly’s taste - late-forties to early-fifties range, she’d guess. He had salt-and-pepper gray hair and a bit of a paunch. But not completely unfortunate. If he hadn’t been so smarmy, he wouldn’t be a complete turnoff. But now he was asking about Nickelback?