Dangerous Authority

by Jet, M

  Then darkness.

  ***

  She kept her back to the counter as Dominique slid up to it and roosted on a stool. She'd been preparing herself for this but still wasn't quite ready. Her heart fluttered and beads of sweat shone across her forehead. Finally she spun to face him with the coffee pot.

  As soon as he laid eyes on her, a look of pure rage turned his face dark.

  "What happened?" he said in a voice barely above a whisper. As though if he were to speak up, he would shout.

  "Oh, dummy me, I slipped in the shower and caught my eye on the facet on the way down." She smiled sweetly. "Four a.m. is just too early for me to think straight."

  Even though she'd had her day off to hide away before returning to work, she knew her eye still looked horrible. An angry black and purple swollen bruise surrounded her eye and marred the side of her face.

  "Don't lie to me," he said.

  She cocked her head to the side, trying hard to keep it together. It had been ridiculous to think he'd believe her. As if he weren't an accomplished police officer.

  As if he weren't her soul mate.

  "I'm not lying, Dominique." She dropped her voice. "Please, just drop it, OK?"

  He sipped his coffee and never took his eyes off her the whole time he was in the diner. He openly stared, seeming to fester in the rage that colored his cheeks. She tried to make small talk with him in between waiting on other customers, but he would have none of it. When he had to go, he approached the exit and motioned with his head for her to follow. She timidly met him at the door.

  He caressed her face ever so gently. "You tell your shower facet that the next time I see a bruise on you… I'll kill him."

  Then he walked out the door, the familiar jingling of the bells sounding eerie to her that time.

  Chapter 8

  She couldn't have been unconscious for more than a few seconds. And she didn't think it was the blow that knocked her out. Certainly he hadn't hit her that hard, right? It was hitting her head on the floor paired with stress and exhaustion that had momentarily taken her under. That was all. It wasn't as bad as it seemed.

  But when she did come to, she hauled herself up unsteadily and ran to sweep Jessie into arms. She then turned to collapse onto the couch and mother and daughter came undone together.

  Zander did not return that night, nor had she heard from him since. Not. One. Word. He had never even come close to hitting her before. She knew he didn't mean it. He'd drank whiskey and gotten the complete wrong idea about a customer from her job. It had simply been a recipe for disaster on one hell of a bad day. He didn't mean it.

  Still, a reckoning would have to come for his actions, wouldn't it? Could they overcome this? Should she even try? Maybe counseling. Well, definitely counseling, she'd have to insist. Or maybe… Maybe he wasn't planning on coming back.

  After work she picked up the kids from daycare and went home, the place she'd come to dread returning to. She was a nervous wreck making the trip across town, wondering if he'd be there. But, she found the driveway still empty. Though she was scared to death to see him, she almost wished he would've been there. Again, she found herself in a situation that had to move forward, one way or another. The anxiety was in obsessively wondering how that would happen. The strange thing was that, when it was just a matter of refusing to hold down a job, and drinking too much, she hadn't had as much trouble considering tossing him out.

  But with the threat of violence introduced, she felt exceedingly more cautious.

  She put all her heart and mind into focusing on the kids and not thinking about the situation at hand. They played outside until dinner, and then after they made crafts together at the kitchen table. Eventually she put them to bed and then sat on the couch, slowly twirling her cell phone in her hand.

  She checked it again, as she'd done dozens of times in the nearly forty eight hours since he'd left. Checking for a text or call she may have missed. Of course, there were none. She pulled up Zander's name in the contacts and contemplated dialing it. But, she decided for the thousandth time not to. Instead, she dejectedly went to bed, alone.

  It was the middle of the night when the knocking on the door woke her.

  She glanced at the clock and noted there was still an hour left before it would be time for her alarm. She stared into the darkness feeling foggy headed and confused. Maybe she'd dreamt it. But then it came again. A rather hard pounding.

  Mary Jane threw back the thin afghan that covered her and leapt out of bed. It couldn't be Zander, he'd have a key. Her heart pounded. This couldn't be good. She raced from her bedroom, hoping to get to the door before the children were woken by the knocking. When she threw it open, her pounding heart nearly stopped to find Dominique standing on the front stoop, silhouetted by the moon.

  "Dominique," she gasped. "What are you doing here?"

  He looked into her eyes and then in an uncharacteristic move, he averted his eyes awkwardly. He seemed afraid to speak.

  "Dominique?" she said again, urgency rising in her voice. "What is it?" Her heart resumed hammering. Somehow she already knew what he was going to say.

  "Mary Jane," he said softly, taking a step toward her. "There… There's been an accident."

  He jumped forward to catch her as her knees gave out.

  ***

  It poured rain the day she buried her husband.

  Her mother and father flanked her at the graveside service, holding her up. A friend from work kept her kids at home. She couldn't bear to bring them to see their daddy laid to rest.

  She didn't absorb a single word of the service. She could only stare unblinking at the shimmering closed black casket, decked with a gorgeous array of white lilies. She couldn't quite wrap her mind the fact that Zander's body was in there… Too badly damaged to be viewed.

  There weren't a great many mourners at the service. Maybe it was the rain. Or maybe it was just that he had burnt so many bridges over the years. And too many people had seen the bruise that still showed on her face. Frankly, it wasn't a good time for him to die. It would've been nice if at least he could've had a chance to make it right first. That thought made her weep.

  Somehow she got home after the service for a small wake. She didn't recall getting there, but she imagined her parents had brought her. Visitors roamed in and out, bringing food and condolences. None of her children seemed to fully gather what was going on. She was thankful for that.

  Dominique appeared at the wake, and she'd noticed him at the service as well. Ironically, he'd been the first responder who discovered Zander's truck wrapped around a tree. And after the ME took Zander away from the scene and the paperwork was filed, he'd insisted on being the one to deliver the awful news to Mary Jane. When she'd calmed down that first night, he'd explained to her that Zander's blood alcohol limit had been eight times the legal limit and he'd already been dead when Dominique happened upon him. After the ME investigation the next day, they didn't even do an autopsy. The physical evidence was compelling. Nobody needed anymore answers. Not even Mary Jane.

  In the end, Zander had made a choice.

  So, it was appropriate for Officer Flame to come and pay his respects to the family, and to his old friend and her children. But it felt strange to have Dominique in the house again. The place where she'd lived and loved with her husband. The place where Dominique had informed her that he was dead. He seemed to pick up on her discomfort and graciously bowed out after only a few minutes.

  She spent most of the wake sitting by the kitchen window staring out into the rain. One or the other of the children perched on her lap at practically all times. They seemed to know that their mommy needed comfort without having a clue why. She hadn't even thought about how she was going to handle telling them just yet. It had crossed her mind to just say nothing at all unless one of them asked.

  Maybe they'd just forget him. Like he'd never been at all.

  It was late in the evening when the last visitor hugged her and said goodbye,
leaving her alone with just the kids and her parents. Her father took the kids in the back of the house to play with toys in the twins' bedroom. Her mother pulled a chair up next to Mary Jane. She put a gentle arm across her daughter's shoulders.

  "Why don’t you and the kids come home with us for a few days? Until you feel better?"

  The kind offer provoked another torrent of tears. Her mother's heart broke, and she pulled the wounded creature against her, holding Mary Jane tight. "I… I can't, Mom. I can't leave here right now."

  Marsha Anderson nodded. "I understand, darling. Is there anything I can do then? Would you like me to take the kids home with us and give you a little time to yourself?"

  Mary Jane looked into her eyes. "Yes, Mom. Would you do that? I don't want them seeing me like this. And I'm not ready to tell them yet."

  Marsha studied Mary Jane worriedly. "OK, honey. But are you sure you'll be OK alone?"

  "I'm sure," she replied glumly.

  "And you'll call if you need us? Dad can come and get you anytime, you know that, right?"

  "Yes, Mama. Thank you. I love you."

  The two women shared another long embrace. Moments later, her mother had the children packed and loaded in their car. Mary Jane forlornly watched their headlights disappear as they drove off down the street.

  Chapter 9

  After a while, the rain subsided. She shut off the air conditioning and opened the windows, allowing a cool night breeze to flow through the small house. She walked around lighting lavender scented candles and put some ambient music on the stereo.

  Despite it all, she felt peaceful.

  She walked to the kitchen, took a bottle of cheap merlot out of the fridge, and poured herself a glass. For a moment she hesitated and felt guilt stricken. Then she raised it to her lips. After all, she wasn't the one with a drinking problem. She wasn't the one who put drinking before family. And she wasn't the selfish, irresponsible drunk driver who should've been home in bed with his wife and instead killed himself. So damn it, she was going to have one glass of wine.

  She returned to the living room, lit only by the dancing flames of the candles, and the small blue light from the stereo. She settled onto the couch and drank the wine, letting the warmth and relaxation wash over her mind.

  It wasn't that she wasn't sad. She was completely wrecked over the prospect of telling her children, to be sure. But she was setting that aside just then. And she was sad that Zander was gone. That things hadn't been different. That things hadn't been better. She certainly wished her last encounter with him wasn't being punched in the face. Maybe then, there wouldn't be relief accompanying the grief.

  She was also scared. The future was uncertain. She doubted she could afford the house alone for very long, and was afraid she and the kids would end up living with her parents. But she was setting that aside for the moment too.

  Some things would be difficult. But all the uncertainty was gone. All the anxiety. All the hostility. Life would be different. But it would be simple. She would make it.

  Once again, an unexpected knock sounded at the door. It was much softer this time, and the front door was open with only the screen door keeping the night outside. She walked to the door and was somehow not surprised to find Dominique there, in plain clothes.

  "Hi," she murmured through the screen.

  "I'm sorry to come back, Mary Jane. I know you didn't want me here. I'm just… I'm beside myself worried about you." More emotion played on his face than she'd ever seen before. A distant flash of lightning struck with no thunder following and illuminated his tanned skin and the tattooed flames on his arm. She pushed open the screen and stood aside to allow him to pass.

  Once he was in, she shut the front door and stared at it for a moment at the spot where her hand rested. Then she slowly turned to face him.

  "Are you OK?" he asked earnestly.

  She answered by falling against him and throwing her arms around his neck. Their lips met as if drawn by magnets and his fingers laced in her hair, behind her bun, as he plied her mouth with his. She moaned against him as he had his way with her lips. She'd imagined a moment like this ten thousand times over but it surpassed everything she'd ever wished for.

  Not breaking the kiss, he pushed her slightly, guiding her back up against the closed front door. He moved his strong hands slowly over her body, pausing each step of the way to caress and mold her. When his hands reached her hips, he reached behind her and hoisted her up. She happily complied by wrapping her legs around his waist and kissing him harder.

  With a low growl he pulled his face away from her just a fraction. "Is this what you want, Mary Jane?" he asked quietly.

  "Since the first time I ever saw you, Dominique," she whispered breathlessly. He closed his mouth over hers again and carried her to the couch. He sat down with her still wrapped around him and she found herself pressed against a rock hard erection which made her instantly and noticeably wet. She still wore her black dress from the funeral, but had long since discarded her shoes and panty hose. So when he moved his hands up her thighs, it was bare hot flesh that he felt. She began rotating her hips against him and he momentarily threw his head back against the back of the couch, staring up into her heady eyes.

  His hand inched further up her skirt and grazed the heat of her center covered only by a thin film of material. She trembled against the slight touch and the small movement sent a shade of raw lust over his handsome face.

  "Are you wet for me?" he breathed.

  She nodded, biting her lower lip.

  "Will you ride my cock, Mary Jane?" Dominique asked.

  She whimpered, overwhelmed with the demons of her own desire. She'd never felt even a small fraction as turned on as she did just then. She answered his question by raising her hips just enough to reach and unfasten his fly. She closed her hand around the evidence that he was every bit as aroused as she. Using her other hand, she pushed aside the material of her own panties and the slid him slowly into herself.

  "Oh, fffffuck," he moaned. His dirty words thrilled something wicked she hadn't known was in her.

  He jerked his hips and thrust himself deep inside her.

  "Ah!" she cried, throwing back her head. Her loose bun came undone and hair tumbled down her back. He pulled the straps of her dress and bra down simultaneously and exposed her full breasts to the cool night air. The widening of his eyes as he beheld her for the first time unleashed something hot and raunchy deep down and she began to rock her hips, leaning back with her arms behind her and hands propped on his knees.

  "Yes," he urged in a demanding whisper.

  He fit her perfectly and they established a rhythm that nuzzled her g-spot with each stiff thrust. The sensation it created left her frantic and tingling all over. He ran a hand up her abdomen, between her breasts and it came to rest on her collar bone just beneath her neck. He pushed her back just slightly more and she began to squeal with each movement then.

  "Come for me," he whispered.

  She moved her hips slightly faster, desperately wanting to oblige his request that she'd imagined so many times. Her entire abdomen was warm and the sense of loss of control was building.

  "Mary Jane," he said. "Come for me."

  "Yes," she moaned.

  "Look at me."

  She made herself look forward and into his dark eyes. The sight of him, a thing that was finally real, whose lap she finally straddled, brought her straight to the brink, and he knew she was there.

  He grinned, one of his rare full, broad smiles. "Say my name," he whispered.

  "Ah… Ah… Ah… Dom-i-niiiique!" she cried out.

  Anyone who would've been walking by on the street just then would easily have heard her scream of ecstasy as she exploded over his dick. He growled as her body clenched on him and that was the end of him as well. Dominique Flame finally found his release, deep inside Mary Jane's shuddering body.

  ***

  Everybody was surprised when Mary Jane only took one more day
off after the funeral and then returned to work. Mitch argued with her, inviting her to take all the time she needed, but she insisted on coming in. She spent the day being comforted and soothed by her coworkers and beloved regular customers. But mainly she just got what she'd come for, mundane things to focus on and give her a reprieve from her grief.

  The night of her long awaited encounter with Officer Flame, she'd asked him in the end to go home and give her time. Respectfully, he had obliged, and she hadn't heard from him the next day during which she spent a sad time informing and comforting her children. They'd spent a quiet day mourning together and beginning to adjust to the prospect of a very different future.

  But he did stop into the diner on the day she returned to work, as he always did. It was probably her imagination, but she thought he looked at her differently. Like he knew the inside of her mind. Like he saw through to the heart of her. She met his piercing eyes, and gave him a sultry smile despite herself.

  He smirked and arched an eyebrow, but quickly pasted his usual stony expression back on his face with a quick glance around. "Afternoon, Mary Jane. You doing OK?" This question was sincere, not just for show. Maybe no one else would understand her actions on the night following her husband's funeral, but Dominique did. On a day of such tremendous loss, she was able to recapture something else she'd thought she'd lost. The past had died. But the future was still living and breathing.

  "I'm OK, yeah."

  "I can't believe you came back so soon," he commented as she poured his coffee.

  She shrugged. "Life goes on, I guess. It helps keep my mind off things."

  Dominique leaned forward slightly across the counter and lowered his voice. "Mary Jane, about… Uh, I'm sorry. I should never have done that."

  She cocked her head to the side and pondered him. "Why?" Her heart began to race. Not again. A kiss off, again? At least he was going to do it in person this time, she supposed.

  "I just… You are vulnerable right now. I need to respect that. What I did was unacceptable," he said, staring into the well of black coffee in front of him.