by Violet Duke
At the sound of stampeding feet coming down the staircase, he hollered out over his shoulder, “Did you two use soap?”
A chorus of pouting, “aw man’s,” echoed through the hallway before two overly dramatic pairs of feet clomped back upstairs at a sloth’s pace.
“But we had soap all over our hands when we washed the car,” argued Kevin.
“And you didn’t wash your hands before you grabbed that corn cob,” grumbled Millie.
Georgia chuckled. “They have you there.”
“Okay, I’ll make you guys a deal,” Caine offered. “If you two are cool with going outside and licking your mom’s tire rims right now, you don’t need to wash your hands before lunch. Since that’ll basically be the same thing.”
Silence.
When he heard the siblings start daring the other to do it, Caine shook his head and chased the kids back up to their bathroom so they could all wash up together.
Studying their reflections in the mirror, he couldn’t help but see their late dad Rick in their features. Kevin was practically Rick’s mini-me, while his big sis was more an even blend of Rick and Georgia. They’d made a picture-perfect family.
That’s why for a while, Caine had thought that pure shame had been Rick’s rationale for his very public suicide after damning evidence proving he was a dirty cop had come to light. But after analyzing all the corruption he’d been involved in, he was convinced now that Rick had shot himself to protect the family he’d loved so much. Because a dead man couldn’t be a threat, and a dead man’s family couldn’t be leverage.
None of his fellow officers saw it that way, but for Caine, that’s how he was choosing to remember his old friend’s last decision on earth. And probably why he was still able to think of Rick as a good man who’d made some really bad mistakes—unlike the rest of his precinct, most of whom had refused to even go to his funeral.
“Lunch is ready!” hollered Georgia.
They ran back to the small dining table, now overflowing with fried chicken, mac and cheese, cole slaw, corn on the cob, dirty beans, and red-skinned garlic mashed potatoes with country gravy thick enough to scoop with a fork. His favorite.
Georgia always made sure to have some favorite of his on the table for these weekly Saturday lunches at her place. But today, so soon after seeing Addison and Kylie again after all these years, he was finding it harder than usual not to think about all the Saturday lunches he’d missed with Addison and the kids. How many Sunday morning breakfasts, holiday dinners with friends, and cookouts with family—
“Oh, I know that look.” Georgia shook her head as she excused the kids to go watch TV while she cleared the table.
Meanwhile, Caine was arriving at the very belated realization that nearly an hour had passed while he’d been deep in thought. And he’d hardly touched his food. “What’re you talking about? What look?”
“That’s your Addison look. All sad puppy eyes like you lost your favorite bone.”
Did he really have an ‘Addison’ look?
“What’s the matter? Trouble in paradise? Figured you’d be all flying unicorns pooping rainbows now that she’s back.”
Millie and Kevin cackled, parroting and morphing the colorful description until it devolved to some pretty creative insults to each other. They put their dishes in the sink and ran off to the living room, chanting, ‘thunder farts,’ all the way.
Caine began loading the dishwasher. “Things aren’t that simple.”
“I thought you’d gotten over her.” Tone no longer teasing, she tilted her head in sympathy. “Seemed like you were getting ready to get back out there. I mean you haven’t scowled at the prospect of a blind date set-up lately. And it’s been at least a few years since you’ve flinched when a woman—me included—kisses you on the cheek.”
“Shit.” He spun around. “I’m sorry, Georgie. I didn’t even realize I used to do that.”
“No worries. I know all about holding a torch for the love of your life, believe me.”
He sighed. Rick had been her high school sweetheart, her soulmate; she’d been absolutely inconsolable when she lost him. “God, we’re a sad pair, aren’t we?”
“You way more than me.”
Smiling, he kissed her cheek. Making sure not to do anything that could remotely be construed as a flinch. “Thank you for lunch.” Backing away, he slipped in nonchalantly, “So let me know what nights are good for you regarding those sewing classes. If we time it right, I can pick up the kids from your sitter, and drive them over to hang out at the complex until you’re done. They’ve got great playgrounds, and a ton of kids Kevin and Millie’s ages.”
“Now this is just sad. You’re totally using me as an excuse to go visit your girlfriend.”
He snagged a plump strawberry from the leftover pie and corrected, “A cover, not an excuse. Big difference.”
She frowned. “You think that guy, David, would start stalking her again if he found out she was here?”
Just the sound of the sick bastard’s name made his stomach turn. “Remember how I traced him back to his fancy Mexican villa near Rocky Point last year? Frickin’ just missed him by a few hours that time.” His hands fisted in frustration at the reminder. Part of the reason why it’d been so hard to catch David over the years was because he always seemed to be in two places at once. And well-funded enough to escape without a trace at the last second. “I went through the stuff he left behind at the villa and found old photos of Addison. Multiple copies of them.”
She shuddered. “Creepy.”
“And judging by the lifestyle he’s living—well beyond what he could afford even with all the money he’d gone on the run with—and what the locals have said about his daily activities, I’m positive he’s getting bankrolled by some folks pretty high up in the drug trades out there.”
“Didn’t you say he used to be in pharmaceutical sales? You think he’s working in distribution or something out there?”
“Worse. Back in Creek Hills, the investigators’ report showed that most of the date rape drugs in David’s possession—the ketamine in particular—had been homemade, with some pretty customized alterations. So I searched back through his first priors when he was in college, and had Drew dig up as much info as he could. Apparently, David studied pharmaceutical science during his undergrad, and from what Drew could find, a lot of David’s old credit card receipts showed him buying more and more advanced chemicals and equipment through the years.”
“Jesus,” murmured Georgia. “You’re thinking he’s helping make designer date rape drugs. Holy shit, Caine. If that’s true, then he’s bound to have some powerful connections with a ton of resources on both sides of the border.”
Exactly.
In a way, Caine had a way easier time talking to Georgia about all this than he did his brothers or his friends outside the force. She’d been a cop’s wife her entire adult life. She knew as well as he did how much evil there was in the world.
“So really, I’m your hired muscle to protect her, is that it?” she deadpanned, trying and succeeding in lightening the mood.
He chuckled over the hilarity of a girly, Southern belle like Georgia acting as bodyguard to Addison with her tough new disguise and insane propensity to do things like confront a madman with a knife to try and save a friend.
“So does that mean you’ll do it? You’ll teach the class?” he volleyed back, surprised she was giving in this easily.
“Maybe. What’s the job pay?”
Damn. He hadn’t actually discussed the idea with Addison—all a part of that ‘no-crossing-paths’ plan he’d been sticking to for the past two weeks. Two miserable as hell weeks that landed him here, attempting to find a loophole in his own mandate regarding his keeping his distance from Addison unless absolutely necessary.
It only sounded stupid if you say it out loud.
Georgia tsked, reading his expression with candidly opportunistic amusement. “You didn’t even clear this with her did you?”
&nb
sp; Suddenly, his eyes snagged on one of the chic homemade aprons Georgia sold at craft fairs. “I’m actually going to talk through the details with her daughter Kylie. She’s always making her own clothes, and I figured she’d be the best person to set this all up.” Holy crap, this idea might actually have some legs to stand on.
“I know you’re not expecting me to work for free.”
He shot her his best thousand-dollar smile. It was a little rusty, and it certainly didn’t make women giggle and toss their hair like Gabe’s million-dollar grin did, but at least it showed him to be respectable and respectful in his cajoling, which was more than what he could say about Max’s two-buck-brow-quirk.
“Those Spencer brother facial spasms aren’t going to work on me.”
Damn. He forgot who he was talking to there for a sec.
“Well,” he switched gears, “think about how good you’ll feel helping some down-on-their-luck folks learn new skills that could help them when they eventually get back on their feet.”
“Ha! You’re mistaking me for you. Or your little goodie-two-shoes paragon. Remember, I stopped believing in people when ninety-nine percent of my husband’s precinct decided to ignore their code to look after a fallen cop’s family.”
He couldn’t exactly blame her for being bitter.
Sadly, the code his brothers on the force stood by when it came to taking care of the widows and children of their fellow police officers hadn’t extended to Georgia and her kids quite as comprehensively, or warmly, as it did for the families of officers who hadn’t died a crooked cop.
Some held grudges, but most just didn’t want to be reminded that there had been a traitor amongst them—a traitor who subsequently blew his brains out right in front of all his horrified colleagues after he got caught.
That’s actually why Caine had transferred to Creek Hills PD seven and a half years ago to begin with. Truthfully, he’d still be there right now if not for the fact that Georgia, who he’d always thought of as a sister, had begun a downward spiral to severe depression following Rick’s suicide.
The day six-year-old Millie had called Caine in a panic three years back because Georgia had passed out after drinking a bunch of pain pills with a whole lot of alcohol, was the day he’d put in his transfer request to return to Phoenix to help out however he could.
Thankfully, she was better now, and the kids were no longer terrified they’d be losing a second parent, but still, he continued to go over at least once a week to check in to make sure things stayed okay.
“Georgia, you can’t expect officers who put their blood, sweat, and tears into cases that Rick singlehandedly sabotaged to forget how many really bad criminals walked because of him. How many innocent victims and informants got hurt as a result.”
Georgia’s voice lost some of its hostility. “Rick messed up some of your biggest cases too, and yet you still followed the code. You still made sure to always be there for us. Hell, you were the only one who cared when I tried to follow Rick down the rabbit hole.”
Not liking the shadows that crept into her eyes at the mention of her suicide attempt, he did a smiling conversational one-eighty and laid it on thick. “Why wouldn’t I be here for you guys? Really, I know that technically I met Rick first, and there was the whole cop thing, but I’m pretty sure I used to introduce Rick as the super lucky husband of my super good friend Georgia, not the other way around. You totally would’ve gotten custody of me in any sort of divorce settlement scenario, and that’s not just because Rick only made microwave mashed potatoes out of a box.”
Georgia chuckled. “Wow. You’re just fibbing your ass off now. You really want me to do this, don’t you?” She tapped her finger against her chin, pretending as if she didn’t already have a list of demands. “Okay, I’ll agree to teach one night a week until Christmas if you take the kids trick or treating this year, and chaperone Kevin’s inhumanely boring field trip to the textile factory that Millie went to the other year, and agree to take the kids toy shopping on Black Friday.”
“Done, done, and hell no.” Black Friday sales were the devil’s playground.
“That’s a deal-breaker.”
It took a few more unsuccessful counteroffers until it hit him. A proposal that would be win-win for them both. “Did I mention that Addison has a friend you might be interested in? This P.I. named Alec.”
“Are you seriously trying to set me up with one of her friends?” Her brows shot up. “Ohhh, let me guess, he’s prettier than you isn’t he? And it’s just eating you up.” She reached over and grabbed his phone. “Fess up, how many surveillance photos did you manage to take of him?”
He scowled. “Just one.”
Georgia burst out laughing when she landed on the photo in question. “Nice. I love the way you captured him flipping you the bird in such a flattering light.” She zoomed in. “Damn. He’s gorgeous. Why hasn’t Addison jumped on this? I mean, he sort of looks like you, but a younger, way less grouchy model.”
He gave her a you-are-now-dead-to-me glare.
“Aw, is someone butt-hurt about not being the hottest guy in Addison’s life anymore?”
Calling on all his years of brotherly torment as a kid, he pretended she was made out of transparent glass and her voice was the howling of the wind.
She rolled her eyes. “Fine, you big baby. I’ll teach the sewing class.”
Caine blinked blankly at her like she was a rare female minion, twinkie-shaped and speaking in minionese.
Shoulders shaking with you’re-such-a-moron laughter, she crossed her arms and made her final offer. “In addition, whenever I see that Alec guy at the housing complex, I’ll be sure to impugn his masculinity and build verbal monuments to your obvious superiority over his feeble, substandard form.”
He knew there was a reason why they were friends. “So you think I need to wear my bulletproof vest when I take the kids to the toy store on Black Friday?”
Chapter Eight
As it turned out, the sewing class idea was a huge hit. From kids and teens wanting to Frankenstein outfits out of their hand-me-downs and thrift store finds, to their parents and grandparents wanting to be able to sew apparel to sell at swap meets or apply for work-from-home tailoring jobs, the number of students who’d signed up for the class had exceeded their expectations by a landslide.
In fact, there ended up being over twice as many students as there were donated sewing machines, which was why the previously agreed upon one-hour class was now a two-hour class, and how he’d come to have a weekly pre-supper snack date with Kevin and Millie in the dining hall while Georgia finished up.
“So which one is your girlfriend, Uncle Caine?” Millie peered around the cafeteria, already about half full with families filing in for the early dinner rush.
“Oh, oh! I know,” exclaimed Kevin, before Caine could correct Millie—again—about Addison being a friend and not the ‘girl he wants to canoodle’ as Georgia’s been describing her oh-so-helpfully. “She’s the cool one with the black and silver hair, and tattoos all over the place.”
Millie shot her eyes over to the one woman across the room matching that description.
The same woman Caine had been having a hard time keeping his eyes off as well.
“Pretty tattoos.” Millie nodded her approval.
A very accurate description. Pretty. In truth, all the artistic tattoos Addison had chosen were actually a tiny bit on the feminine side to fit her tough chick disguise. But, the overall look she achieved was stunning nonetheless. A combination of enigmatically sexy and still somehow sweet when paired with her fallen angel looks.
Telling himself he was looking at her ink and not the soft, tempting skin his fingers were itching to touch, he ran his eyes over each tattoo. Starting from the dainty leaves and flowers across her right collarbone touching the base of her throat, to the swirl of vines curling over and down both shoulders—currently bared, he noted disgruntledly, by that leather and lace tank top she was wearing—to the
gorgeously detailed lotus mandala patterns on the insides of both wrists.
Last, but certainly not least, his eyes traced the intricate one-eyed masquerade mask shadowing her cleavage behind the thin straps crisscrossing in a sexy spiderweb across the vee of the otherwise modest top. Seeing the design only halfway visible above the fabric instantly seized him with a deep, dark jealousy for whoever touched her skin beyond that point with their tattoo needle. The mere thought that it had been a man had his seriously fighting the urge to go over there right now and replace any memory of any other man’s hands on her skin with his own.
As if hearing his thoughts from across the room, she blushed, and sank her teeth into her lower lip, which was stained a far too tempting lush, plum red today.
God, those lips.
That mouth of hers was a lethal weapon his memories definitely hadn’t done justice over the years. Perpetually curved up at the corners as if always at the ready for a shy, quiet smile, with a full lower lip she was constantly biting…like she was still doing right now.
“Dude, you’re drooling.”
Caine tore his eyes away from Addison and looked up to find a thoroughly amused Alec standing next to Georgia and the kids, both of whom were now eating apples that had materialized out of thin air.
“Uncle Alec ate all your fries while you were staring at your girlfriend,” Kevin announced, between crunchy bites.
“He bet us he could do it without you even knowing,” added Millie, peering up at Alec like he was some sort of wizard. Or zombie-whisperer.
Alec flashed two wide rows of perfect teeth at him.
Geez, it’s like the guy majored in how to annoy the shit out of him.
“And since I won the bet,” informed Alec, “I now get to pick where I’m taking Georgia and the kids out to dinner tonight. Which means you’re going to have to fill in for me to help Addison put all the sewing machines, desks, and bolts of fabric away.” Alec gave him a smug ‘didn’t-see-that-coming-didya’ brow waggle.
Wait. What?
Georgia leaned over and stage-whispered, “I think that makes it Alec-1, Caine-0.” Stepping back, she regarded Alec with nodding approval. “Masterful. Now, Caine is going to owe you one. And you got to eat all his fries. I have so much to learn to learn from you.”
