Overflow: The Carpino Series

by Asher, Brynne

  “Huh,” I barely respond. “Are your parents Hispanic? Where does Ortiz come from?”

  “My grandfather, dad’s dad, he was Puerto Rican. But other than that, I’m a little bit of everything.”

  I grin at him and say, "Well, what you are is tall, dark and handsome with a lot of mysterious mixed in. Thank you, Jude. That was actually a wealth of information. Sorry your parents are divorced."

  "It's okay. They're happier apart and they don’t have a problem being around each other. It's never been ugly or anything," he explains with a shrug.

  "That's good," I say quietly. I sit down on his bed as he heads to his closet and I think about part Puerto Rican Jude having a brother and divorced parents.

  Shaking me out of my thoughts, he's standing in front of me holding his hand out and says quietly, "Let's go, sugar. I'm done." Taking his hand, I nod and let him pull me out of his room, all of a sudden sad that he’s lived here almost a year, out of boxes and doesn’t have a home.

  Needing to know as much as I can find out, I give his hand a little squeeze and say tentatively, “Jude, you know all about me. I mean, you know it’s been a long time since I’ve been with anyone else.” He stops and turns to gaze down at me with a guarded look. “So, when was the last time you were with someone, you know, long term, or um, even serious?” I ask, stumbling over my words, praying it’s okay to ask about his past.

  He stands there and looks down at me for quite a few beats. He gives my hand a yank pulling me into him, his other arm goes around my waist and says with meaning, “A long time, Gabby. A really fucking long time,” he leans down and kisses me softly. Pulling back to look down at me he states, “Let’s go.”

  There’s something about the way he answered my question with finality that doesn’t invite me to ask further. Taking my hand again, he leads me out of his not great condo and we head home.

  I look back up at Leigh, finishing my story, I say, “Even though he’s a little mysterious, I do know more than I did last week. He makes me really happy, though. It’s different than being with James, but it’s only been a couple weeks, even though it’s been a crazy couple of weeks. I’m just hoping it stays good, you know?”

  Leigh looks at me intently and with meaning she says softly, “Yeah, girlie, I know.”

  Taking the opportunity, I make a point of my own, “Leigh, you know I’m here for you, right? Anytime, if you need to talk or you need anything else. I feel like you’re not yourself anymore, like I’ve lost a part of you.”

  Quietly, she responds, “I know, Gabby. I know you’re here for me.”

  “Okay, then. Where is Preston, by the way?”

  She sighs big and looks out the window again, “He flew out first thing this morning for a conference all week.”

  “All right. Stay for dinner. My pop called after church this morning, informing me that he is coming for dinner tonight and further informing me that I’m making spinach manicotti with marinara, his favorite. Then he informed me that my new boyfriend had better be here. You being here will a good distraction for me, because I’m personally not looking forward to it.”

  “Girl. You know I would love to witness that show, but I’m not sure my stomach can handle manicotti right now,” she sighs. “Plus, you know Preston will call and be unhappy if I’m not at home,” she shrugs as an apology.

  “That’s okay, but next time I’m making you stay!” I mock threaten her.

  “I can’t wait to meet him, Gabby.”

  “You will, and soon,” I promise her.

  She gives me a big hug and walks out the front door and I think to myself how different she is now and how I freaking hate Preston Briggs. Closing and locking the door behind her, I yell down the stairs informing Tony, “Tone, you’re staying for dinner!”

  “Depends on what you’re making,” he yells back.

  “Spinach manicotti.”

  There’s a pause before Tony asks, “Is Pop coming?”

  “Yes,” I bite back.

  “Will Jude be here?” he asks further.

  Seriously?

  “Yeah,” I answer, frustrated because he’s on to me and knows I just want someone here to play interference. Although, now that I’m thinking this through, I am kicking myself because having Tony here could make it worse. Way worse!

  I hear him laughing from the basement as he answers, “Sure thing Gabba Gabba! It should be a fun night! I wouldn’t miss it if you paid me!”

  Damn. What was I thinking? I look to the ceiling to pray for patience then move to my kitchen to start dinner.

  Chapter 12 - You Will Not Enjoy It

  The water is washing over me. I’m standing with my back to Jude, one of his arms is snaked around me, his magical fingers working between my legs and the other is holding me up with his hand on my breast. My hands are braced up against the shower wall trying to hold my weight as my orgasm shoots through me. “Jude,” I breathe out.

  His hands leave me and go to my hips pulling me down onto his lap, now sitting on the shower bench, guiding himself inside me. His mouth comes to my ear from behind me and he says through the water, “Move, sugar.” His hands are a my hips to lead me and I spread my legs to straddle his, leaning forward to put my hands to his knees in front of me for support and start moving as best I can from this position. Jude is yanking me down onto him, obviously not taking things slow this morning. “Touch yourself, Gabby,” he demands.

  Ohmygoodness.

  I take a hand from his knee to touch myself as Jude is pulling me down on him, it starts building again. “That’s it baby, faster,” he rasps to me.

  It’s coming again and I feel like I’m not going to be able to move anymore. He must sense this because it’s all him now, slamming me down onto him. I gasp, throwing my head back to his shoulder. He yanks me down on top of him one more time and plants his face in my neck groaning. I lean back into him placing my hand on the side of this face and we sit here letting the water run over us. “There’s nothing better than listening to you breathe my name, Gabby. Nothing,” he whispers in my ear through the water. He squeezes me one more time as he adds, “I can’t get enough of you, baby.”

  This is true, Jude’s alarm went off at oh dark thirty, freaking early, he rolled into me tucking his hand under my cami and started playing with my nipples. Then his mouth came to my neck and he said, “Come shower with me, babe. Then you can come back to bed.” How could I say no to that?

  He lifts me, standing me up while turning me around and pushes me under the water. I feel his hands on my head as he works shampoo into my hair and it feels so good, I put my hands on his waist, leaning my forehead into his chest to lean on him while he washes my hair. Pushing me back, he rinses it out, tips my head up to him and kisses me softly. I blink through the water and say, “You have to condition it or it will be a mess all day.”

  Grinning down at me, he kisses me quick and returns, “I’ll remember that,” as he goes for my conditioner. While he’s working conditioner through my hair, I grab a washcloth and start washing myself when he pushes me back under the water to rinse my hair again. Turning me again, his arm snakes around my front, pulling my back into his chest and he takes my washcloth away to wash between my legs. I’m still sensitive from earlier, I can’t help but close my eyes and lean my head back against his shoulder. He kisses my temple and says to me, “Go back to bed, babe. Get some more sleep.”

  I turn to him and put my arms around his waist and up his back fitting myself to him. Up on my tiptoes, I kiss him and say, “Okay.”

  Getting out, I towel off, squeezing as much water out of my hair as I can. I go to my closet to grab one of Jude’s t-shirt’s off the top of his ever exploding bag on the floor and head straight back to bed. Mia snuggles into me, wondering why I would get up so early to begin with and I barely hear the water turn off. Minutes later I feel Jude’s hand under the covers sliding up the side of my leg to land on my bare ass and he gives me a squeeze. With his lips on my forehead
and he says, “Bye, sugar. I’m setting the alarm. Call me when you get up.”

  “Have a good day,” I mumble and snuggle in deeper, my wet hair strewn all over the pillow.

  “You too, Gabby. Your Uncle Nic will be here in a few. I’ll wait for him before I leave,” he says, leaning in to kiss me again.

  “Unh huh,” I mumble as my very relaxed body starts to find sleep again.

  *****

  “It’s not a hunch anymore, man. This is Harper. We’ve got an ID on him from the airport attendant at Cherry Capital Airport in Traverse City. The plane was booked last night to fly into Fremont Municipal first thing this morning. Our Agents up there had all flights in the area tagged to anywhere in our vicinity, so the red flag went up immediately,” Mac said into my ear as I’m driving into the office. “We knew last night there was a plane booked from the Lake Michigan area and thought it was a shot in the dark, but it looks like it’s turning out to be Harper making his way home.”

  “Anyone with him?” I return.

  “Yeah, he’s got his right hand man with him. We still don’t know where they were staying, but we’ll find out soon enough. They took off in a private charter an hour ago. They should be landing at Fremont in forty five minutes.”

  “I’ll be to you in five, we should have plenty of time, but I want to be there when that mother fucker gets off the plane,” I bite out. This moment has been in the back of my mind for the last two weeks.

  “Calm down, Ortiz. I know you can’t think of anything besides smashing his face in, but we’ve got another situation to deal with first.”

  “What?”

  “Megan Harper. Her tail is reporting that she is packing up her SUV. We’ve got a tracker on her car, so we’ll know where she is and the ping on her phone will show, too. An unmarked car is ready to follow her and we’ll monitor her tracker in the wire room, but man, it looks like she could be meeting up with her husband for the first time in three weeks.”

  “What the fuck?” We have all of her phones tapped and a ping order on her phone to show the coordinate location. How did we miss their communication? Unless they had backup plans, which means Megan Harper would have been aware something like this could happen and was prepared for it. Which also means Megan Harper knows more than we thought.

  “I know, man. That woman puts on a good front. But this cannot be a coincidence that she’s packing up when he’s heading south. I remember that woman from the raid. I’m gonna need another cup of coffee to deal with her,” he sighs as if he’s looking for patience.

  The rage inside me just ignited. That bitch knew what she was doing calling Gabby, fed the information to her jackass husband knowing he would go after her with a physical and verbal warning. For the first time in my life, I’m feeling like I could beat the shit out of a woman.

  “I’m almost there,” I say. “Be ready to go, I’m not in the mood to waste time this morning.”

  “There’s more,” Mac goes on. “Her tail is almost one hundred percent sure she’s packing her kids up with her. We’re checking the flight plan at Fremont, but it looks like they could be getting ready to bolt. I’ll be out front waiting, we should be getting word any minute now if that plane has plans to move.”

  I get to the office, Mac swings in and we gun it west, alerting highway patrol who we are so they won’t stop us for speeding. We make the normally short thirty minute drive in twenty, finding out on the way that Megan does have her kids with her, which throws a whole other dimension into our ops plan. Child Protective Services has been put on call in case the children need to be taken into protective custody. We have four undercover surveillance units located inside the terminal waiting for Megan and her kids to arrive, with additional units placed in the parking lot and tarmac. The Omaha SWAT team is the closest, largest unit to respond and have an armored vehicle ready to move onto the tarmac if Harper doesn’t cooperate by exiting the aircraft. Since Fremont is a small department, a mass of Omaha PD is providing backup, waiting a half mile away to descend when we start taking them into custody.

  “From what we can tell on the tracker, Mrs. Harper has taken a wrong turn but has rerouted and is heading back this way. The flight plan is to refuel here and head straight west to the Outer Banks of South Carolina. The asshole seems to like water, I’m sure being landlocked in the Midwest was torture for him,” our Group Supervisor informs us. We are in the backroom of the terminal of the Fremont Municipal Airport, a tiny airstrip right on the edge of town. The Falcon 10, a small private lightweight jet that Harper chartered, should be here in fifteen minutes. The plan is to get Megan and her kids out of the way before Harper’s plane lands.

  “As soon as the wife and kids enter the terminal we will quietly, for the kids’ sake, escort them into this room. The pilot should exit the plane since they are refueling, but if he doesn’t, the tower will radio to him that there is an issue with the flight plan to get him out. If Harper continues to be the fuckwad he’s proven to be by not getting off to help his wife with the kids and bags, we will send SWAT out, demand over the speakers that they exit the aircraft. If that doesn’t work, we’ll be forced to smoke him out,” he goes on to lay out the operational plan that has been set.

  Hopefully this should be over in thirty to forty five minutes and we will have three more in custody, but more importantly, Gabby will be safe again. I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket, pull it out and see Gabrielle listed across the screen. Moving away from the group, slide my thumb across and answer, “Sugar.”

  “Good morning…again,” she responds and I can hear her smile. “I just woke up.”

  “That’s good, Gabby. I’m glad you got back to sleep.”

  “What are you doing? You left earlier than normal, or what I’m guessing is normal for you, since you’ve been…well…here anyway,” she asks, stumbling over her words again.

  “We had something going on this morning that I needed to get in for. Is Nic still there?”

  “No, he had to get to a building site, Tia just got here. I feel so bad about putting everyone out having to be here all the time. I hope this ends soon.”

  Sensing movement in the small room we are congregated in, I look out the window and see Megan Harper’s black Mercedes SUV pull in. “Yeah, babe. I hope this ends soon, too. Are you good?”

  “Yeah, I’m good, Jude. Just wanted to say good morning,” she says softly. I think about how I left her this morning, showered, sated and back asleep with her dog in that big ass bed wearing nothing but my shirt.

  “It was a good morning, sugar,” I say quietly. “Hey someone needs me, I’ll call you later, okay?”

  “Oh, sorry. I’ll be here, not going anywhere. Anywhere at all,” she says with sarcasm.

  “Goodbye, Gabrielle,” I say with a warning.

  “Bye, Jude,” she responds with a little laugh and we disconnect.

  I look back to the window to see Megan struggling with her young children, bags and a stroller. Her movements are quick, agitated and anxious. The kids have backpacks and the older one is trying to pull a suitcase while Megan has bags thrown over her shoulders, pushing a stroller with one hand while pulling another large suitcase with the other. It’s clear to see she’s packed as much as she could handle and is planning on being gone a while. She’ll throw attitude, but other than that, there shouldn’t be an issue taking her into custody. I hate it when kids are involved. We’ve got additional female officers here to help deal with them and hopefully we will be able to call family to take them, but it’s not going to be a fun couple of hours, that’s for sure.

  Megan enters the small terminal with her kids and moments later I hear Megan start to scuffle, yelling at the agents. Kids start crying and the noise gets louder as I hear the agents directing them to our location. The doors open, the female officers go directly to the kids, moving them to the side while another female officer moves in to remove bags and frisk Megan.

  “What are you doing?” she screams. “You can’t bring me
in here! I’ve done nothing wrong!” she’s agitated, you can visibly see her tremble and tears are starting to form and fall down her face. Signs of stress from the last three weeks are evident, she doesn’t look nearly as put together as she did that day at her house and she has dark circles under her eyes. Meanwhile, the two older kids are crying, calling out for their mom and the hysteria in the room is building.

  The female officer attending to Megan who is cuffing her tries to reason with her. “Ma’am, you need to calm down. You are scaring your children. If you cooperate, we will get them out of here quicker, hopefully call family to come and get them. If you don’t have anyone who can make the trek to collect them, they will have to be placed with Child Protective Services. Now, no one here wants that, including you, so calm down and quit screaming,” the officer says as she gives her a quick but forceful yank to get her point across.

  “No! You can’t take them away!” her panic reaching a new level. She’s looking around the room quickly, for what, I don’t know, until her eyes come to Mac and me. “You! You were both at my house that day!” the noise in the room continues to climb between Megan screaming and the baby is now crying with the older two.

  I enter the fray, saying, “You need to calm down, Mrs. Harper, if not for your children, then for yourself. It will only be in your best interest if you cooperate.”

  “It’s you,” she barely breathes. “I talked to you on the phone. You’re with Gabby?”

  Tensing, I do everything I can to control myself and my language in front of her children. “Don’t. Do not even think about uttering her name after what your husband did to her. Do you understand me? You set her up, informing your husband that I was with her. You’ve lost that right, do you get me?”

  Mac butts in with, “Enough.” Looking to the female officer he instructs, “Mirandize her now.” Looking back at Megan he bites out, “I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but if I were you I would shut your mouth, woman. Look around, you’re in a room full of officers of the law and you’re just digging your own grave. Not to mention, you can save your voice for later when we’re the ones asking the questions.”