Bump & Grind (Brewed Moon Book 1)

by J. Margot Critch

  He wasn’t amused. “Why did the police bring you in today?”

  She shrugged. “Because I was here?”

  “They didn’t arrest anyone else. Just you.”

  “Well, I have absolutely no idea.”

  “Seems kind of suspicious, though,” he pondered. “And what did you tell the police?”

  “Nothing,” she told him. It was the truth. Erica hadn’t known anything about the Dylan O’Connell’s operations. “I try my best to stay out of other people’s affairs,” she tried to keep her expression and her demeanor completely neutral. It was absolutely imperative that she stay cool; to distract him from doing anything to her before Peter got there.

  Erica shook her head so her waves bounced and cascaded around her shoulders. “They asked me some questions about how long I’ve worked for you, and I told them that I don’t…” she raised an eyebrow. “Well, not yet, anyway,” she said, sauntering toward him as he sat at his desk, and she sat on the corner next to him. She shrugged. “They realized that they couldn’t get anything from me, and they let me go.” Her eyes travelled over his desk, looking for anything that would stand up against the gun he wore in a holster around his waist. Her best bet was a letter opener on the other side of the large, oak desktop. She didn’t love her odds.

  Erica then turned her gaze down at Dylan and from the way that Dylan was watching her, she deemed her flirty act to be successful. He reached out and put his hand high on her thigh. “Erica,” he murmured, rubbing up and down her leg. “I knew I liked you. But it seems that I’m not the only one,” his eyes turned cold and his fingers tightened, clenching into her flesh hard. She yelped in surprise and pain.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I know you’re fucking that cop. Swanson. The one that arrested you here today.”

  “That’s not-”

  “Don’t bother lying. My sources have seen you together, outside after your last show here, and one may have been privy you two in an intimate moment earlier today.”

  He stood abruptly, and grabbed her hair, pulling her from his desk. Clenching much of her red hair in his fist, he dragged her lower, so that she couldn’t stand. “What did you tell him? What did you find out about me while you were snooping around here for him?”

  “Nothing,” she protested, trying not to cry. She attempted to twist away from him to release herself from his grasp, but his hold was firm. “I don’t know anything.”

  He brought her around to the front of his desk. “You don’t know anything?” He slammed her down, so she was bent over the desk. “I’ve watched you dance here. I would go to that coffee shop to see you. I wanted you Erica, you should be with me, but you go and fuck that cop. Did you like it? Did you like fucking him?” He stood behind her and kept her head to the desk, holding the side of it down with one hand. “Did you?”

  Erica took a deep breath and slid her eyes up to him. “I did.”

  “You whore,” Dylan bit out between his clenched teeth.

  Erica could hear him unbuckling his belt. She knew what was coming. Peter wasn’t there yet, and she was on her own to find a way to stop him.

  “Erica, I’ll give you something to like. You’ll forget all about that cop,” he said, placing an aggressive hand on her backside, he gripped her, and she felt the cold steel of the barrel of his gun against the back of her skull. “Maybe I’ll keep you around here for myself instead of giving you to Petrova…”

  “What?” Erica asked him, knowing that to survive unscathed, she would have to keep him talking. “Who’s Petrova?”

  “Just a colleague,” Dylan responded. “We’re doing a letting business. Creating some goodwill. Making a trade of some merchandise. You’ll fetch a pretty penny, I imagine.”

  “What do you mean? Are you calling me merchandise?”

  “You aren’t yet.”

  Erica was stuck. There was nothing she could do. Her lip trembled. She wouldn’t cry. Shutting her eyes tightly, she held her breath. Her eyes flew open, however, when she heard the door crash in, and she felt Dylan stiffen above her.

  “Get the fuck away from her, O’Connell!” She heard a man yell. She couldn’t see him as she was still pinned the desk, facing away from the ruckus. But she would know his voice anywhere. It was Peter. It was her chance. Dylan stepped away from her she saw the gold letter opener that she had spied earlier, it was only a foot away. She chanced a glance upward and saw that Dylan was no longer even looking at her, he was preoccupied with the man who had just entered his office, interrupting whatever he was about to do to her. A white hot rage overcame her, and she reached out for the gold letter opener. She felt it in in her fingers and she gripped it tightly, just in time for Dylan to pull her up once again, by her hair.

  “Put your guns down, or I’ll kill her,” Dylan demanded, holding her in front of him, using her as a shield. The coward.

  Erica looked up and finally saw Peter. He looked in her eyes, and he was strong, stalwart. He, Mitch and Steve had their guns trained over her shoulder, aiming for Dylan O’Connell’s head. She maintained eye contact with Peter, he looked calm and it gave her confidence. And even though Erica was still in a very dangerous situation, she had no doubt that he would get her out of this. But it didn’t mean that she couldn’t help him out. She nodded at him.

  “Guys,” Peter said to his team. “Lower your guns.” He turned back to Dylan. “You’re not getting out of here.”

  Dylan smirked and she felt his grip on her tighten, and he took his gun away from her head and he pointed it at Peter. “Maybe not. But neither are you.”

  Dylan’s gun was on Peter, and she moved away from his grasp. She raised the letter opener above her head and drove it down, not stopping until it made contact with his flesh. She raised her hand and struck again. She didn’t think it was enough to cause him serious injury but it must have hurt like a bitch. Dylan screamed. She dove out of the way, and covered her head. She heard the loud pop of gunfire, several of them, and she looked up long enough to see Dylan fall back to his desk, the hole in his chest oozing blood. She looked at his face and saw the moment when the life seeped from him.

  She’d never seen a dead body before - a lot of firsts today – and she barely heard when either Mitch or Steve called out to Peter.

  She pulled her attention from the dead mobster and whipped around and saw Peter fall to the floor, clutching his shoulder, his team converged over him. “Oh my God,” she cried and went to him. She pushed her way past Mitch and kneeled on the floor beside Peter. His shoulder was bleeding, and she pressed her palm over the wound to staunch some of the bleeding.

  Everything happened in a blur. Other officers entered the room. Mitch took her place by his shoulder, and he began performing first aid. Steve had his phone to his ear, calling for an ambulance. “We’ve got an officer down.” Erica sat by his head, and she looked at the blood on her hands, Peter’s blood. She wiped her hands in her pants, until they were mostly clean, and she ran her fingers through his hair.

  Her touch caught Peter’s attention and he looked up at her, his face tense. But his eyes were soft. “Are you okay?” he grit through his teeth.

  She nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine. How about you?”

  “Oh, I’m best kind,” he laughed through his clenched teeth.

  Mitch maintained pressure on Peter’s wound. Erica could see the worry etched on his face. “Just hang on, Peter. We’ve got a bus coming.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Peter assured him. “Hurts like a bitch, though.”

  “Not long now,” Mitch told him.

  Erica could hear the sirens in the background, getting closer. She looked down at Peter, he was taking deep breaths, inhaling and exhaling against the pain. She knew that he would be okay. But her heart hammered in her chest. She didn’t know what she would do if she lost him. He kept his eyes on her, as if he were seeking comfort from her. Stroked his cheeks, and didn’t move from him until the paramedics pushed her aside so they could trea
t his injury. Soon, they had him loaded onto a stretcher and they pushed him out of the room. When he was gone, Erica turned and realized that Dylan O’Connell’s body had already been removed from the room. She stood there with Steve and Mitch.

  “Nobody’s going with him?”

  Mitch turned to her. “Joe’s already there.” He looked her over. “Are you injured?”

  “I don’t think so.” She turned her hand over and saw the huge gash that crossed her palm. It didn’t hurt. She must have gotten it from letter opener when she used it on Dylan. “Except for this, I guess.” She held out her hand.

  Mitch inspected it. “It doesn’t seem to be bleeding too much. But let’s get you to the hospital. Get you patched up.”

  Chapter 23

  Erica looked at the bandage that the emergency room doctor had wrapped around her hand. The pristine, white gauze was such a stark contrast to the blood and grime that had dominated her day. She was finally able to sit and reflect on her day. Arrested. Kidnapped. She’d stabbed Dylan O’Connell, and then watched him die. She sat by Peter as he bled, praying that he would be okay. She still hadn’t seen Peter, and she looked at the double doors leading to the triage rooms. As if by concentrating hard enough, she would be able to see through them and find out where he was. Why can’t I just go see Peter?

  With her opposite hand, she fingered the bandage. Funny, she thought. I wanted more excitement and adventure in my life. I sure got it. She looked around the hospital waiting room. Erica would never again long for more excitement while standing behind the counter at Brewed Moon. She pursed her lips when she thought of the café. Maybe this experience was the kick in the pants she needed to make a change in her life. Maybe it was time to start following her dream.

  Interrupting her thoughts, the double doors in front of her opened and Mitch stepped out into the waiting room. He took a seat next to her, and she looked over at him. He was frowning, and looked exhausted.

  “Is he okay?” she asked him.

  Mitch nodded. “He is. The bullet was a clean hit. He’s stitched up now. Doc’s got him on some pain killers right now, so he’s a little bit loopy,” he grinned. “But he’ll be fine.”

  “I’m glad.”

  Mitch sighed, and looked straight ahead. “All he wants is to see you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah,” Mitch turned to her. “You’ve really got him twisted up inside, you know? You made him question himself, the job.”

  Her mouth opened in shock. “I didn’t mean to.”

  Mitch shrugged his shoulders. “I know you didn’t. But it’s true.” He paused. “Did he ever tell you about Kelly?”

  “No. Who’s Kelly?”

  “He should tell you.”

  Erica’s mind raced. Who is Kelly? His girlfriend? His wife? She nodded. Did he make Erica the other woman? Maybe he didn’t consider it cheating because he was on the job. A fresh wave of hurt washed over her. “Can I see him now?” she asked Mitch, her voice low, pain clouding her tone.

  “Through those doors, then the second room on the left,” Mitch instructed her, pointing to the double doors.

  “Thanks,” she stood and walked through the door. She found his room and saw Peter sitting upright on a hospital bed, laughing with his partners, Steve and Joe. They hadn’t yet seen her, so she stood in the hallway. She knew that she shouldn’t be eavesdropping.

  “Hell of a day,” Steve commented, she saw him leaning against the wall, his arms folded across his chest.

  “It sure was,” Peter laughed. “I got a fancy new scar and everything.”

  How can he downplay getting shot? Erica was shocked that he could be so blasé about being in mortal peril. She walked to the door frame and he saw her immediately.

  “Hey,” he said, trying to sit up in his hospital bed. He smiled at her. He was in a hospital gown, and he was hooked up to an IV machine. She frowned, wishing that she wasn’t seeing him like this.

  Their lives would be incompatible. His job was dangerous, and he could end up in hospital again. She would worry about him being injured or killed every day of her life. There was no way that she would be strong enough to handle it. But despite his obvious discomfort, and the bullet that had torn through his shoulder, he smiled broadly at her, as if he wasn’t sitting in a hospital bed, with his injured arm stitched up and in a sling.

  Steve patted Peter on his non-injured shoulder. “We’ll see you soon, buddy.” And he and Joe left the room.

  She sat gingerly on the bed beside him and Peter saw the bandage on her hand. He took her hand in his own and smoothed his thumb over it. “What happened?”

  “It’s just a cut,” she dismissed it. “From the letter opener, I think. I didn’t even feel it.” She paused. “Thank you for coming to my rescue like that.”

  “Erica, I will always come to your rescue,” he looked at her, telling her gravely, before something made his face contort with a wince.

  “Are you okay?” she frowned again. “Should I get the nurse?”

  “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. I’m a big, strong man,” he smiled, echoing the words he’d told her on one of their first meetings, when she had burned her hand at the café.

  “Peter,” she rebuked him softly.

  He cupped her cheek, forcing her eyes to his. “Seriously. I’ll be fine. Bullet missed the important bits. Not a lot of damage done. So in a couple of months, after some rest and rehab, I’ll be as good as new. I’m actually ready to check out of here soon. I’m just waiting for the nurse to come back.”

  She was silent, she nodded.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” she shook her head. “No. Not really. It’s just that… Today’s been…” She stammered, unable to put together anything near a coherent sentence. “When I was…” She brought her hand to her forehead, and blinked back tears, refusing to let them fall. She wasn’t a woman to just fall apart. She would hold it together, and let herself process and what had happened and then fall apart when he was gone. “I’m fine,” she answered, in a small, shaky voice, averting her eyes from his.

  He extended his arm. “Come here,” he demanded in a whisper.

  She shifted up the bed and carefully nestled herself in the crook of his arm.

  “I just want to get out of here,” she whispered.

  “Me too,” he kissed the top of her head. “It won’t be much longer now.”

  Chapter 24

  It was almost daylight when Peter let both of them into his apartment. He was exhausted. The adrenaline from the firefight, and the arrests, and being shot had long since worn off, replaced instead with the numbness of anesthetics and painkillers. His shoulder ached like hell, and all he could think about was getting into bed and curling Erica’s warm body into his.

  He shrugged off his jacket and with her help, pulled his t-shirt over his head. Before he could lower his arms, hers had wrapped around his bare waist. It felt so good to just have her near him. Her skin on his. He dropped his head and lowered his lips to hers. He didn’t think that she would ever want to see him again. They had a lot to discuss. But it could wait until after they slept.

  They finished disrobing, and got into bed. Peter sighed at the feeling of the cool sheets against his skin, and then again when Erica’s warmth curled into his side. Nothing had ever felt so good and right. He gathered her close and held her body tightly to his own. He knew that eventually he would have to, but at the moment, he was certain he never wanted to let her go.

  Instead of sleeping, he stared at the ceiling, listening to Erica’s even breaths as she slept. As exhausted as his body was, he found it impossible to close his eyes. Dylan O’Connell was dead, and Colin in jail, so for the time being, the case was closed.

  He looked down at the woman sprawled across his chest. How could he even begin to make things right with her? He had only known her for a few weeks and their relationship had been built on nothing but lies and sex. Sure, she was with him in his bed, but that didn�
�t guarantee that they had any sort of future. There was no way that she wasn’t still upset about his lies and violating her trust and privacy. How could she not be? He would never have her trust. He’d blown it.

  When Erica woke up hours later, the sun was now low in the sky, casting long, orange shadows across the room. She must have slept all day. It took her a couple of seconds to realize that she wasn’t in her own bed and the events of the previous day came crashing back to her. She shuddered a little and she reached over to Peter’s side of the bed. It was cold and long since empty.

  She furrowed her brow, and looked around his bedroom for him, and she heard the faucet running in the en suite bathroom. She looked around, his bedroom was neat. His belongings were neatly arranged on the bedside table and dresser, stored with military precision. It was her first time in his bedroom, she realized with a frown. They had always gone to her place. The feelings of betrayal returned with a vengeance. He had lied to her. He had investigated her. Photographed her. Recorded her. She wanted to be with him, but she could never forgive him for that.

  She heard the bathtub draining. He must have opted for a bath instead of shower as his arm was still bandaged and in a sling. Her anger turned to desire as she pictured him in there, his body warm and moist from his bath. She lusted for him. Her palms itched to run her hands over his skin, to drag her teeth down his body. She shivered in yearning for him, but she shook it away. She needed to talk to him, and to do that, she needed a clear head.

  Erica looked around the room and located her clothing in pile on the floor. She picked up her shirt and threw it immediately back to the floor. They were still covered in blood from the day before. She walked to his opened closet and selected a plaid, button-up shirt that was hung there. She brought it to her nose and inhaled. It was clean, but it still managed to smell like him. She pulled it on over her naked shoulders and she fastened only two buttons. She took a deep breath and she made her way to the bathroom.