Street Justice

by Holly S. Roberts

  This is so Shelby. I say it slowly in my head. “Okay, I can handle a SCDMU.”

  That makes her laugh. “Cops and acronyms. I love it.”

  The words “I love you” almost slip out, but I manage to hold them back. “If you think your parents are fun, wait until you meet mine,” I tease.

  “This weekend, huh? Can we fuck like bunnies until then?”

  I laugh. She has such a way with words. Last night was about holding her until she fell asleep. It was about security and refuge. Fucking like bunnies sounds great for tonight.

  Chapter Seventeen

  WE WALK INTO SHELBY’S house so she can pack a bag. She removes a few scarves from the assortment spread throughout her home. Daisy is with us. He follows Shelby from room to room refusing to let her out of his sight.

  When she’s ready, we lock up and head over to my place. I’m carrying two large bags and Shelby has a small one. By the weight of the two bags I hope she’s moving in permanently.

  I place everything in my bedroom. Shelby carries her smaller bag into the bathroom. I didn’t sleep well last night and I’m still exhausted. I remove my shoes and socks, lie back on the bed face up, and close my eyes. I’m sideways, so my feet are touching the floor.

  The bed dips a few minutes later when Shelby scoots in beside me. Her lips touch mine and I don’t bother opening my eyes. I reach over, grab her hips, and pull her on top of me. She’s naked and I smile against her lips. I hear a soft whine from the doorway and ignore it. Daisy needs a playmate for just these times. I’ll think about it later. Right now, Shelby tastes of minty toothpaste and pure spicy female. I roll us so she’s beneath me.

  “You’re overdressed,” she breathes.

  I don’t care. What I have planned doesn’t require me to remove my clothes. Yet. She lets out a yelp when I stand and jerk her legs wide and bring her ass so it’s almost off the bed and her feet hang over the side. I go to my knees and admire the most incredible sight I’ve ever seen.

  She has three piercings. A bar at her clit and two small wire rings through her labia. God, she’s gorgeous and the jewelry only accents it. I dip my head and taste her. She’s sweeter than honey. I glance up and she’s on her forearms watching me. I smile against her. “Do you like this?”

  “I love it,” she groans as I take her clit between my lips and flick the bar. “I really love that,” she says breathlessly.

  I push one finger inside and then two. She closes her eyes and falls back against the mattress. I flick the bar with my tongue again. I lick around my fingers so I can taste more of her. I lift her legs and bring them over my shoulders. She squeezes her thighs and moans. I continue my assault licking, nibbling, and sucking until her cries give away that she’s very close to orgasm. I remove my fingers.

  “Don’t stop, God, please. Don’t. Stop.”

  I want my tongue inside her when she comes. I dip it as far in as it can go and move my fingers back against the seam of her ass until I feel the tightly puckered flesh I’m looking for. She doesn’t pull away when I swipe one wet finger across her tight little hole.

  “Oh, God. Oh, God,” she cries.

  I slip my finger in. That’s all it takes to have her writhing against my mouth. Her cries are now incoherent. I keep going until her entire body relaxes against the bed and her legs go still against my shoulders. I kiss her inner thigh, move her legs, and stand up. I pull my shirt over my head and toss it aside. Next my belt and pants hit the floor.

  I think Shelby’s too exhausted to move, but I’m wrong. She sits up and places her hands on my hips. My fingers go to her nipples and I play with the piercings there. “Move closer,” she whispers into the quiet room.

  I do as she asks and her lips touch the head of my cock. She circles her tongue over just the tip—her wet, warm tongue. Fuck it feels good. My hands slide up until I’m holding the sides of her head. I don’t add pressure; I let her go her own speed. She sucks the tip of me just a little and then goes back to licking. I don’t think she can take my cock fully in her mouth and I don’t give a fuck. What she’s doing feels incredible. Her small, sweet hand goes to my balls and she adds a gentle squeeze. I groan and she does it again. Her other hand holds my cock and slides against me as she continues to play. My body sizzles with need. I watch as her mouth opens wide. She circles those delectable lips around me again before they slide over my cock. Her eyes are full of accomplishment when they meet mine.

  She slides back and then does it again. Now I can’t stop myself from controlling her rhythm. My pelvis grinds forward in small thrusts. Saliva drips from the sides of her mouth and the visual is more than I can handle. I try to pull away but she literally has me by the balls and holds on. My dick unleashes as my orgasm spreads throughout my body in wave after wave of ecstasy. Shelby swallows me down, every drop. There’s no doubt in my mind that I’ve found the perfect woman. Now to convince her I’m her perfect man.

  Chapter Eighteen

  SHELBY DIDN’T JUST GIVE her two weeks’ notice, she used two weeks’ vacation for the remaining time. When she cuts ties, she means it. The charge against her for solicitation was dropped. I had a personal talk with the prosecuting attorney and he agreed there was no case. I worked long hours throughout the week while Shelby locked herself in my house. Twice a day, I had a patrol officer go to the house to be with Shelby when she let Daisy outside. Abuse of power, yada, yada, yada. I don’t give a fuck. It bothered Shelby but she was still afraid to open the doors. I completed the case against Terry and tied up all the loose ends that a large case like this inevitably has. I applied to the lab for a rush on Terry’s DNA. It came back as a match to the first two victims. New Mexico doesn’t have the death penalty, so Terry should spend the rest of his life in prison. If by some miracle Terry slips through the justice system on a technicality, I’ll kill him myself.

  My thoughts turn to my brother Rutherford. Is this how he felt when our brother Andrew was killed by a Mexican drug cartel? I trusted the justice system to take out the men responsible and poured myself into my job when that didn’t happen. A touch of understanding enters my consciousness. I’m sworn to uphold the law, but the thought of Terry walking free flips me inside out. I’ll go to prison for the rest of my life to make sure it never happens.

  Saturday afternoon I pack Shelby and Daisy in my truck to head to my parents’ house for a barbeque. Santa Fe is an hour away.

  “I love Santa Fe,” Shelby says. “Are you sure we can bring Daisy without a problem?”

  “Daisy’s fine and if he eats my mom’s Chihuahuas, I’ll head to court and file adoption papers for him. We’ll share custody.”

  She’s laughing when she says, “And to think the two of you had such a rocky start. You love him, don’t you?”

  I love her. It’s not time to make this confession, though. As far as I’m concerned, she moved permanently into my place. She goes back to college in the fall and I will help her become an attorney even if it’s only in small ways, such as cleaning and doing laundry. Unfortunately, she doesn’t want me to cook. My ineptitude comes straight from my mother.

  My parents’ home is a far cry from Shelby’s parents’ mansion. We drive up the dirt road leading to their property. I can tell by Shelby’s smile that she’s already in love. I knew she would be and that’s why I refused to answer any questions about my parents throughout the week.

  Their Pueblo-style home has orange stuccoed outer walls. There’s an iron gate that leads into a small comfortable courtyard complete with a Mexican chiminea for the cooler winter months.

  I park and open my door. Shelby waits for me to walk around and help her out, but Daisy has no manners. He jumps down and begins sniffing the desert landscaping. I’m unconcerned. My parents own several acres.

  The yapping alerts me that the dual terrors are on the attack. They fly out of the courtyard with my mother on their heels. “Come back here you pig-headed bandits,” she yells. They attack Daisy, who has no idea what’s happening. They j
ump and bite and growl. Daisy looks at me like fleas are attacking on him.

  “You’re tough, you figure it out,” I tell him. I open Shelby’s door and lift her down. Before I can fully release her she’s wrapped in my mother’s arms. My mother rambles in Italian. I don’t bother translating. Shelby doesn’t need to know that my mother is planning our Christmas wedding and the christening of our first child. I’m not surprised my mother knows the extent of my feelings for Shelby. I’ve never brought a woman home before.

  My father approaches and puts his arms around me like I’m a ten-year-old boy and not six inches taller than he is. My parents show lots of affection. I grew up this way. Two of my brothers are behind Dad and we squeeze each other until we groan and our faces turn red. I look over at Shelby. When one family member lets me go they head her way and give her the same treatment, though in a gentler manner.

  This is my family, and Shelby’s about to discover everything she’s missed in her life. It takes ten minutes before all the greetings and hugs come to an end. My brother Woodrow has his arm securely around Shelby’s shoulder. Woody is a forest ranger. He’s also the smart one of the bunch with a ton of education under his belt. We all thought he would be a veterinarian, but he surprised us and used his skills in the best of both worlds. He’s blue through and through.

  Calvin punches my arm and rubs his knuckles against the side of my head. We move into the courtyard while Calvin and I shove each other back and forth. Shelby claps her hands when she sees the large half fountain against one of the walls. It trickles water down into a two-by-five-foot pond by way of cups fastened against the wall. Each cup tilts at an angle and water flows to the next until it pumps back up to continue the cycle.

  “She’s wonderful,” my mother whispers.

  “Yes she is,” I respond.

  My mother wears a loose dress with large colorful flowers. My brothers and father are all in jeans and T-shirts like me. Shelby is in a white willowy blouse and some kind of brown skirt that looks like multiple scarves layered around her waist. A silver gypsy belt circles the long blouse and her hips. Her flat gold sandals peek beneath the skirt and her rainbow toenails sparkle with the toe rings she’s wearing. She fits in perfectly.

  The men sit in the courtyard after Woody releases Shelby. My mother takes her hand and drags her into the house to show her around. The house is small with only two bedrooms, but the guest room has two sets of bunk beds in case we stay over.

  When Shelby is in the house, Calvin leans over. “Is she the one?”

  We’ve teased each other about this for years. My dad knew my mother was his one and only the first time he saw her. That’s not exactly how it happened for Shelby and me, but I have no doubt she’s the special someone I’ve been searching for. “She is, she just doesn’t know it yet, so don’t scare her off.” I pointedly look at Woody. He’s the lover of the family. He was the fourth son and now with Andrew gone, he’s the baby. A big baby, who spends a lot of time with our parents. Andrew’s death changed him more than it did me or Calvin and that’s saying a lot. He continues his playboy ways, but he’s more intense now. He and Andrew were very close.

  Calvin hands me a beer and my father clinks his bottle against mine. “Good job, son.”

  The afternoon is next to perfect, at least until we gather for dinner at the table on the outside back patio. I see a question in Shelby’s eyes when she notices the table is set for eight. She doesn’t ask questions, but she looks at the two unused place settings whenever there’s a lull in the conversation. My mom gazes at the empty seats with longing and my father with a tightening of his lips. My brothers and I continue our banter and keep the conversation flowing as much as possible.

  We’re eating hamburgers from the grill and potato salad Shelby and I brought. Calvin donated chips and Woody supplied the beer. My mother had one rule when we were boys no matter what was for dinner. We ate every evening as a family regardless of our schedules or we didn’t eat at all. She held dinner until after football practice and other sporting events when we grew older. We always sat together as a family and discussed our day. This included our police officer father. Even if he was working graveyard, he would wake up and eat with us and then return to bed. I glance at the two empty chairs. My mother will set a place for her missing boys until the day she dies.

  Fuck you, Rutherford, you’re killing her slowly, I think silently.

  “You’re named after presidents of the United States,” I hear Shelby say.

  Calvin is sitting on the other side of Shelby. “Yes, I’m Calvin Coolidge Street. He,” my brother points to me, “is Abraham Lincoln Street. That marshmallow,” he now turns to Woody, “is Woodrow Wilson Street.” His voice lowers and he nods. “One of those chairs is for my brother Andrew Jackson Street. He died working border patrol.” Shelby’s eyes tear up and I squeeze her hand beneath the table. “The other chair is for the black sheep of the family, Rutherford Hayes Street.”

  Good for my brother. I look at my mom and her eyes tear up just as Shelby’s did. My father’s jaw has only grown tighter.

  “It’s time for dessert,” my mother interjects. “I made everyone’s favorite.”

  Silence ensues. My mother never cooks.

  “What’s their favorite?” Shelby asks, looking confused.

  “Banana splits. It’s the only dessert I can make,” my mother replies while casting stern eyes around the table.

  My father laughs and the rest of us join in.

  The crisis has passed for now.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “I LOVED THEM,” SHELBY sighs wearily on our way home.

  “They love you too,” I say with absolute conviction.

  “If it bothers you to talk about it, it’s okay, but I was hoping you would tell me about your brother Rutherford?”

  The question hangs for a moment. I do my best to keep my voice neutral and not show how much the topic angers me. “He went to Afghanistan, did three tours. The war changed him. He had a best buddy who died over there too. That was bad enough. Then my brother Andrew was murdered while working the border. Rutherford didn’t handle it well to say the least. He didn’t make it home in time for the funeral. He showed up two months later, no longer in the Marines.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Shelby says.

  “He went to Mexico to find the men who killed Andrew. It didn’t matter what we all told him. The government was doing everything they could to find and prosecute the drug cartel. He didn’t call my parents for months at a time. My mother was sick with worry, my father furious. He showed up one night when we were all at my parents’ and told us he was moving to Phoenix and we needed to stop worrying about him and stay out of his business. My brother Calvin took that as a challenge and discovered everything he could about Rutherford’s new life.”

  Fuck, it’s hard to get the words out.

  “It’s okay, Lincoln. You don’t need to tell me.”

  I glance at her before looking straight ahead again. “You need to know. He went to work for a crime syndicate. He’s implicated in everything from running drugs to murder. We don’t know why or even how he hooked up with the man he calls boss. That man now has his fingers deep in the New Mexico underworld. Rutherford, or Rack as he’s known to his buddies, could be sentenced to prison for the rest of his life. It will be worse if he’s taken down in Arizona. They’re a death penalty state. His actions are destroying my parents.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers and leans over to kiss my cheek. “Maybe one day he’ll change.”

  That’s the sunshine and roses perspective, but I don’t say this. When you’re into organized crime as deep as my brother, there’s no getting out unless you die. Daisy whines from the back seat. It’s the first time he has stirred since we left my parents’ house. “It’s okay, boy.” He knows I’m upset. The damn dog totally has my number. I unhook my fingers from Shelby and reach back and scratch his neck. “I’m sorry the little devils weren’t friendlier.”


  Shelby laughs. “They drove him crazy and he has a tender nose from Chihuahua teeth.”

  “Those tiny suckers are vicious.”

  Daisy did his job and lightened the atmosphere in the truck. I’m thankful. I don’t like talking about my brother.

  ****

  Six months have passed since Terry’s arrest. Shelby lives in my house along with many of her crazy decorations. Our place is an organized mess. Organized because I do everything I can to keep it that way and a mess because Shelby’s idea of comfortable is chaos. Her free spirit works for me.

  We’re going out to dinner and Shelby is bitching because she can’t find her purple scarf to accent her yellow skirt.

  “I know, boy,” I tell Daisy with a nice pat on his head. “Your mom is bonkers, but we love her anyway.”

  Daisy whines, which is his way of agreeing.

  “Found it,” she yells from the back of the house. She comes out with the scarf around her head. The long tails of material hang to her waist. Her curly hair is barely controlled. She’s beautiful. I peer downward and see ballerina slippers covering her feet.

  I’m in dark slacks and a pale green dress shirt minus a tie. It’s a little on the fancy side for me when I’m off work and heading out with Shelby. The slight bulge in my pocket causes an insecure feeling in the pit of my stomach. For most women a high-end restaurant would be the place you ask the most important question of your life. I knew it wouldn’t work for Shelby. I’ve made reservations at an out of the way micro-brewery she’s wanted to try.

  Over beer, after we’ve eaten our dinner, I take Shelby’s hand across the small table. “I love you,” I tell her simply. I haven’t said the words before, though I’ve wanted to each and every day. Her answering smile gives me courage. “When you’re ready, I would like to marry you.” Probably not the most eloquent way to phrase it.