Golden Trail

by Ashley, Kristen

  Her face turned to marble before her lips moved. “I’ll be fine.”

  “You’ll be fucked.”

  She leaned in again. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Lotsa reasons a dirty cop goes dirty. But unlike a criminal, he’s got more reasons not to get caught. He gets caught, he loses everything. He loses face, he loses family, he loses respect, he loses his badge, he loses his career and he goes to a place he does not wanna go. Boys in prison, they don’t like cops. He’s either dead or he’ll wanna be. That means a dirty cop who hasn’t made all he needs to break away clean and disappear is gonna get antsy when he feels heat. And by antsy, I mean desperate.”

  When she replied, she did it quickly and quietly. “I know that.”

  “I know you know that which makes me wonder, your Dad uses a cane when it rains but is reminded every day when he wakes up alone, why you’d put that shit out there for him to experience again.”

  He heard her suck in breath.

  Merry told him to go easy on her but he had no intention of doing that. Too much was at stake.

  “Carson Fisher was dead three days after he was sent down,” he reminded her.

  “Layne –”

  “Shiv to the gut, they didn’t twist it, they yanked it straight through him, straight through his heart. He bled out about a second after he hit the ground.”

  “Be quiet,” she whispered.

  Layne wasn’t quiet. “Your Mom went down so he could avoid that.”

  “Be quiet,” she whispered louder.

  “Your Dad went down for the same reason.”

  “Stop it, Layne.”

  “I went down six weeks ago for the same fuckin’ reason, Rocky.”

  Her arms uncrossed, she leaned forward sharply and she yelled, “Stop it, Layne!”

  “Merry doesn’t want you out there with Rutledge and I figure your Dad doesn’t know about this but if he did, he wouldn’t want you out there either.”

  “You forget, Layne, that Dad knew exactly what you’re telling me and he still stayed on Fisher,” she shot back.

  “True enough but he had no idea he was puttin’ more than his ass on the line. You asked him now, I bet he’d tell you he’d stand down.”

  “Then you don’t know my father very well,” she returned.

  He had to admit, she was probably right about that. She was also wrong about it.

  “He fucked up,” Layne told her.

  “He did not, he did the right thing. Shit like that happens to cops every day. He knew the score, so did Mom.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Got yourself all talked into it, then,” he noted.

  “Go to hell, Layne.”

  “Sweetcheeks, your Dad thought Cecilia or you were in danger, he would have done things differently.”

  “He wouldn’t stand down.”

  “No, but he would have made you safe.”

  She tossed her hair then said, “You’re right. That’s a good idea, Layne. I’ll let Dad in on this. He won’t like it, it’ll probably piss him off, but, like Merry, and you, he won’t stop me but at least he’ll be in the know and he can do what he wants with that knowledge.”

  “Merry’s right, you’re smart. None of us can out you which means none of us can stop you. You got us all cornered.”

  She didn’t reply, just stood there and glared at him.

  “Problem with that is, if I remember the story right, your Dad talked to your Mom. The deal was, something happened to him, she took what he left her to the cops. That’s why, after Fisher dropped your Dad, he went for your Mom.”

  He watched her face get pale as she swallowed but she didn’t speak or lose the fire in her eyes.

  “Now, it’s the other way around,” Layne continued. “See, he’s guessin’ now, which boy enlightened me. He can’t be sure and he can’t ask questions. So he’s off-balance. But he makes you, he knows Merry’s made him. So he drops you then goes after Merry. Maybe your Dad. Maybe me too.”

  Rocky remained silent.

  Layne went on. “I was in surgery, then unconscious. Tell me, Roc, what were Tripp and Jasper like when you saw them at the hospital?”

  She spoke then. She whispered, “Shut up, Layne.”

  “You recognize the look in their eyes?”

  “Shut up.”

  “See that somewhere? The mirror, maybe?”

  “Go to hell!” she shouted and whirled, her hair flying out behind her, she stomped to the door, unlocked it and yanked it open. Standing there holding it, she turned back to him. “Get out.”

  He walked right up to her, wrenched the door out of her hand and slammed it. Then he moved into her, she retreated and he backed her up until she was against the wall and he kept going until their bodies touched. Then he caged her in, one hand flat against the wall at her waist, the other one at her shoulder.

  She put her hands on his chest and then she put pressure there.

  “Step back!” she demanded.

  “All that worth it to you? You think your Mom would be proud?”

  She stared in his eyes and she did this awhile.

  Then she answered softly, “Yes.”

  He felt his brows shoot up. “Yes?”

  “Where’s Daddy going?” she asked in a high-pitched, fake little girl voice. Then she went on to answer her own question in her normal voice. “Out to get the bad guys, baby. Your Daddy wears the white hat, makes the world safe for all the mommies’ precious babies…” her hand slid up his chest, his neck, to rest curled around his jaw, “just like you.”

  Jesus. Cecilia said that to her, touched her like that.

  Jesus.

  “Roc,” he whispered.

  “She was proud of him.”

  “Rocky.”

  “She was proud of what he did.”

  “Roc –”

  “He goes to work, every day, sits down by Colt, Mike, Sully, Sean… Merry. He sits down and puts on the white hat and pretends he’s a good guy. Those boys, they face danger every day. They get to wear the white hats. He doesn’t get to do that, Layne.”

  “He’ll go down,” Layne assured her. “Give Merry and me time to regroup.”

  “You’re exposed.”

  “Give us time to regroup.”

  “There isn’t time.”

  “There is.”

  “This spreads,” she told him the truth. “One goes down, others will follow. If they don’t, a dirty cop taints the whole team. Word gets out –”

  “Let Merry and I get our bearings.”

  “No.”

  “Fuck, Rocky!” he exploded, pounding his palm against the wall by her shoulder. “You have no fuckin’ clue what you’re doin’. Merry’s already swung his ass out on this one and you know what happened to me. We need to cool it. You’re putting the entire operation in jeopardy.”

  She again fell silent and did it apparently forgetting she still had her hands on him.

  He didn’t forget, both of them burned right into his skin.

  He didn’t say a word.

  They went into stare down and he realized he’d forgotten this. When she left him, he’d glorified every memory of her. He’d forgotten she could be unbelievably fucking stubborn and he’d forgotten just how incredibly annoying that was.

  Back in the day, he had several outs to a stare down with Rocky. The one he used most frequently was to tickle her. His second top runner was to kiss her. Once, he’d been so pissed, he’d caught her up in his arms, walked to the couch, turned her over his knee and spanked her. The first two he enjoyed and, if he stuck with it, which he always did, she eventually did too. The last served to piss her off to such an extreme, she attacked him, which eventually ended with them doing something a whole lot different than fighting, something they also both enjoyed. It had been the best sex they’d ever had. To the point where it gave him option four, when they were in stare down, to break it, he’d ask if she needed a spanking. The memory cut
through the stubborn, her breath would start getting heavy just thinking about it and she’d end up kissing him.

  He didn’t have any of those options open to him now, she wasn’t backing down and he had to get her hands off him or he’d put his on her.

  “Merry’s out on a date, Roc, I think it’s safe you use his bed,” Layne remarked, pushed away from the wall, walked to the door and tugged it open, turning to her to see she was still pressed against the wall where he left her. “Lock this after me,” he ordered then he walked out, slamming the door behind him.

  Chapter Four

  Robin Hood

  “Layne,” she begged.

  Layne sucked her nipple sharply into his mouth.

  “Layne,” she repeated on a moan.

  He lifted his head and looked toward hers. It was pressed back into the pillows, her neck arched.

  “You promised,” he murmured.

  Her head came up and her eyes came to him, unfocused. Christ, she was turned on. It was written all over her face.

  He felt his rock hard cock start aching.

  Then he put his mouth to her, trailing his lips down her belly. He stopped and kissed her right above the dark triangle of hair between her legs.

  She lifted her knees and dropped them to the sides, offering herself to him.

  Fuck, but he loved her.

  He settled between her legs and slid his finger lightly through her wetness.

  Her hips bucked then her body moved with agitation.

  “Layne,” she said again.

  He looked up at her and she was staring at him, need stark on her face. Her hands were clenching the slats in the headboard, what she’d promised. Layne got to touch, to taste, to lick, to suck and she held onto the headboard – no matter what.

  “You promised, baby,” he reminded her again, using his finger to retrace its path.

  A low sound came from her throat and her head fell back.

  Layne grinned.

  Then he looked down at her, opened her with his fingers and used his tongue to do the same thing he’d done with his finger.

  Her hips surged up, his mouth closed over her, he pulled deep and then growled with satisfaction against her when he heard and felt her come.

  * * * * *

  Layne’s eyes opened.

  He was on his stomach and his cock was hard. Again. And aching. Again.

  He rolled to his back, muttering, “Christ.”

  He stared at the ceiling. It felt like he’d been asleep for two minutes which was about as long as he actually had been asleep since he’d spent most of his night thinking about Rocky, some of it arguing with her and the rest of it pissed at her.

  Even so, he still had a dream. All of them were different, some hotter than others, but only by shades and degrees.

  This one, however, was the best so far.

  He put the dream out of his head when he heard the boys’ shower going. He turned and looked at the clock. Six twenty-seven and they were up on their own, or at least one of them was. A miracle.

  He gave himself a minute to get his body under control then he got up, went to the bathroom, did his thing, went to his dresser, grabbed a tee, tugged it on and left his room. He checked Tripp’s room first. Light on, bed unmade, clothes and shit everywhere, Tripp not there. The shower was still on so he walked down the hall to Jasper’s room and found it the same as Tripp’s. Light on, room a mess, Jasper not there.

  He walked down the stairs and halfway down saw Blondie outside, panting against the glass, body swinging side to side, tail whipping around. He walked directly to the sliding glass door but turned to see Tripp was emptying the dishwasher. Another miracle.

  “Hey Pal,” Layne greeted.

  Tripp looked at him and smiled. “Hey Dad.”

  “Is that Tripp?” Layne asked, sliding open the door, Blondie shot in and began instantly to dance around him. Once the dog was clear of the door, he threw the door to.

  “What?” Tripp asked back as Layne walked to the coffeepot.

  “You Tripp?” Layne repeated.

  “Well…” Tripp stared at him, a funny look on his face, “yeah.”

  Layne pulled the filter out of the coffeemaker. “You sure? See, the real Tripp doesn’t unload the dishwasher unless I’ve asked him ten times. I remember askin’ you to do it last night but that was only once. I got nine more to go.”

  Tripp’s comically confused face split into a smile and he muttered, “Shut up, Dad,” before he turned back to the dishwasher.

  “You feed Blondie?” Layne asked but he knew Tripp hadn’t because Blondie was dancing between both him and his son, unsure which one of them was going to end her enforced fast, and if she’d been fed she’d pick one or the other to bug.

  “Not yet. Just got downstairs. She’s only been out a few minutes.” Tripp answered.

  “I’ll get her after I make coffee. You get breakfast after you finish with that.”

  “Okay,” Tripp agreed and shoved some plates into a cupboard.

  Layne made the coffee and started to feed Blondie but stopped when he was about to plop the food in the dirty bowl. He stared at the bowl a second then cleaned it before he fed his son’s dog. By the time he set down the bowl, Blondie was beside herself and Layne added a trip to the Garden Center to his day’s agenda to buy her more bowls so they could put them in the dishwasher and she didn’t have her breakfast delayed.

  Layne had a cup of coffee in his hand, his hips against the counter by the sink and Tripp was sitting at the island spooning up cereal when Jasper showed. He let his oldest son get his cereal and sit by his brother before he moved to stand in front of them at the island.

  “Spoke to your Mom yesterday. She wants you guys to stay with me next week.”

  Tripp had been looking at him while he talked and when he finished, his head dropped down to look at the milk in his bowl. Jasper had been looking at him too but his head didn’t drop down. Layne watched anger flash through his features before he looked away and Layne saw a muscle tick in his cheek.

  This was another reason why he knew they were his boys. They’d pegged Stew before Layne even moved home. They didn’t like him and they didn’t like spending time with him. But more, they didn’t like him with their Mom.

  Gabby might be a bitch to Layne but she loved her kids and they loved her. For this reason, Layne knew they were torn. When they spent time with her and Stew, when he got them back, they were both tense to the point of wired and it took a couple of days for them to settle in. Even not liking Layne, Jasper obviously liked him more than Stew because he relaxed when he was at Layne’s house. Then they’d go back and it’d happen all over again.

  This caused Layne concern but neither of them had shared and he felt it important to let them deal with it how they saw fit. They needed him, they needed to man up and ask. Until then, it was up to them to cope.

  They were torn because he knew they preferred to be at Layne’s house because Stew wasn’t there. But they didn’t want to be away from their Mom because Stew was there. If Stew wasn’t there, he wondered how they’d be. Tripp probably would take it in stride. Jasper would probably be more of an asshole.

  “That cool with you guys?” Layne asked and they both looked at him.

  “Yeah,” Tripp answered.

  “Whatever,” Jasper muttered.

  That was the best he was going to get from Jas and he’d take it.

  Then Jasper decided to take his anger out on Layne and Layne knew this because Jasper stated, “Mrs. Astley is thirty-eight years old.”

  This was a bizarre statement leading into unknown territory but considering he was referring to Raquel at all, Layne braced.

  “Yeah,” Layne confirmed. “How’d you know that?”

  “Kids know everything about Mrs. Astley,” Jasper answered.

  Layne bet they did.

  “You were twenty-five when Mom had me,” Jasper went on.

  Layne studied his son and prompted, “Your poi
nt, Jas?”

  “You said you lived with her before Mom,” Jasper replied.

  Layne kept his eyes locked to his boy.

  Layne had made the decision when he moved home that he would treat his sons, mostly, like men. Neither of them were kids anymore, not really, and both of them were smart. They had to learn how to be men from somewhere and Stew sure as fuck wouldn’t teach them how to be good ones, so Layne was going to do it. Therefore, he was straight with them, at all times, at all costs. They had to learn how to deal with whatever life threw at them and no one could tell you how to do that. You had to learn by experience.

  Neither of them had asked about him getting shot, not yet. He was going to let them sort what they had to sort in their heads and then he was going to share more about who he was and what he did. That time was getting ripe, he knew it.

  Therefore, Layne nodded to Jasper. “I did.”

  Jasper got that look in his eye, the one he got when he was going to be more of an asshole teenaged kid than usual and Layne braced again.

  “You like jailbait?”

  “Jas,” Tripp muttered. He wasn’t a big fan of his brother’s asshole teenaged kid act either.

  Jasper turned to his brother and defended himself. “She’s four years younger than Dad. They lived together before Mom, she was, like, a teenager, dude.”

  Layne held onto his patience and studied his sons.

  Then he made a decision.

  “Don’t move, I’ll be back,” Layne ordered and walked out of the kitchen, up the stairs and to his desk. He pulled out a drawer, rifled through it and found the big manila envelope. He opened it, his fingers sifting through the pictures, he found the one he was looking for, pulled it out and walked back to his sons.

  He resumed his place opposite them at the island and tossed the picture down in front of them. It skidded and Tripp’s hand shot out to stop it. He brushed it with his finger, twirling it so it was right side up to him and Jasper.

  In it was a picture of Rocky. She was wearing jeans shorts, a tight pink t-shirt, her hair was down and around her shoulders and she was sitting on a high, cement wall next to a statue of a lion. They were at Purdue, her and Dave and Layne. She was seventeen and scouting universities, she’d later be accepted at Purdue as well as five other schools. She wanted to go to Purdue but she got hooked up with Layne and made the decision to stay closer to home so she’d picked Butler. Layne felt no guilt about this. Butler wasn’t sloppy seconds by a long shot.