Kevlar to My Vest

by Lani Lynn Vale

  Fifteen minutes ago, I was surprised to see all of the men from Free show up with their wives. Now, not so much.

  “Sure,” I said glancing over at Viddy who was currently whispering excitedly with her sister. “Take a seat.”

  “When are you going to have one of your own?” Jack asked as he sat.

  I looked down at the sleeping Saylor and grinned. “Soon, hopefully.”

  Jack grinned back. “They change your life, that’s for sure. For the better though.”

  Jack had a little girl that looked exactly like him and one on the way, seeing as his wife looked like she was about ready to pop.

  His gaze followed mine and he grinned at me.

  “What have you got for me?” I asked finally.

  The smile died on his face, and his demeanor instantly changed from comfortable to tense.

  He handed the folder over to me, and I took it, holding it open with one hand.

  I read the top paper once, and then re-read it again.

  “What the fuck?” I asked in surprise.

  “That’s about what I thought, too. It surprised the shit out of me, and then some, when I found those on the mom’s computer.” Jack agreed.

  ‘Those’ were a compilation of emails Paul Russo’s mother, Annette Russo, wrote to her sister. In a nutshell, she admitted that Paul was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor that was slowly taking Paul’s mind from him. In it, she explained how she gently nudged Paul in Viddy’s direction, feeding him lies, causing him to do things he wouldn’t normally do.

  “His fucking parents must be stupid or something. Why would she write all this down?”

  “That’s translated. The original was in Cherokee. Which I happen to know.” Jack explained.

  I shook my head.

  “They can’t seriously think they can get away with this. What could they possibly gain by having him do what he did?” I queried.

  “Sympathy. It makes them more human. When Mr. Russo runs for senator, he’ll have the ‘my son was shot by a cop’ card.” Jack shrugged.

  My eyes narrowed on the translated email. “But he was trying to rape my wife!”

  “He said, she said.” Jack said.

  My gut was roiling at the implications of this file he’d given me. I’d thought there was more to the story, but I didn’t think that Paul was only the tip of the iceberg. I’d thought this was fucking over.

  How wrong I’d been.

  “Is there any way you can turn this over to the police for investigation...legally?” I asked.

  He was shaking his head before I even finished.

  “No, but I turned the same information over to Silas over an hour ago. He told me to wait until after we ate to give it to you.” Jack said apologetically.

  That was when I noticed that Silas was nowhere to be seen when he’d been there only moments before.

  Neither was Dixie. Or Loki. Or Sebastian. Or Kettle. Hell, even Grayson was gone. Grayson was the life of the fucking party. It’d take a minor miracle to get him to leave.

  Hell, even the prospects were gone.

  “Fuck,” I said in aggravation. “That’s why he handed me his kid. To distract me. Getting more beer my ass.”

  Fucking Kettle. Fucking Silas.

  They were trying to protect me.

  “Well,” I said just before a slow smile started to tilt up the corners of my mouth. “This should be interesting.”

  ***

  Silas

  “You can’t come in here!” The old woman screeched in indignation.

  I laughed as I continued to walk forward, pushing the old woman out of the way as I went.

  I found the husband in the foyer, reading glasses in hand, as he stared at us in shock.

  “Get out, now!” He boomed.

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Here, how about you read this since you have those glasses so handy.” I said, shoving the file folder into his chest.

  He looked at me warily, but nonetheless did what I asked, scanning the packet.

  His face blanched as he read, going from red, to pale, to white. “Annette,” he gasped. “What did you do?”

  Annette looked at him innocently. Or as innocently as one could with blood on her hands.

  “What do you mean, darling?” She asked in feigned surprise.

  “You told him to rape that young girl?” He yelled, dropping the papers.

  They floated to the ground, scattering all over the marble floor, disrupting the pristine condition of the house surrounding us.

  “I...I...don’t know what you mean.” She stuttered.

  Old man Russo’s hands went to his hair and he looked so utterly lost that I almost felt a twinge of pity for him.

  Almost, but not quite.

  The man was the one to marry the old bitch. He should’ve known something was off with how the son was acting.

  “What,” he cleared his throat. “What do you want me to do?”

  He eyed my cut warily, as well as the five men behind me.

  We’d come in force in hopes that it would scare the patriarch of the family.

  Lucky for us, it worked.

  “Turn the old bitch in. That’s all.” I said simply.

  “Morton!” The old bitch shrieked. “You can’t do that!”

  Old Morton turned to his wife. “Do you think I’m fucking stupid, Annette? You don’t think that I’ve survived all these years married to you without a backup plan? I sure as fuck can turn you in. If you don’t, your precious sister and her husband will be on the streets faster than you can say ‘pre-nup.’ What did I tell you when I married you?” He hissed.

  “N-not to lie.” She cried softly.

  “That’s right. I told you not to lie. Honestly, Annette. I’ve put up with your shit for years. With your stupid sister and her dimwitted husband. When they fucked up and started dealing with those...vagrants, in order to stay in their posh lifestyle... I told you the only way I’d keep supporting them was if you never lied to me again. Yet, here we are. I should’ve known something was up when you insisted that your sister pushed to have that dog euthanized. Hell, I didn’t see the big deal. But now...now it makes all the more sense.”

  Turning to me, Old Russo asked, “What do you need her to do?”

  “Lucky for you, we have a police officer who’ll take Mrs. Russo’s confession. We even brought a cruiser just for her.” I replied happily.

  His eyes narrowed on me. “What happens if I don’t go along with this?” He asked after a second.

  “I ruin your life.”

  ***

  Trance

  “Trance,” Viddy gasped. “Stop teasing me. Please.”

  Ignoring her request, I skimmed my nose and lips down her neck, over her turgid nipple, across her stomach, and finally stopped at the apex of her thighs.

  Her hands found my hair and she yanked, disrupting the feast I was about to dig into.

  I allowed her to roll me over, and then straddle me.

  She sheathed her hot pussy over my cock in the next instant, making my back bow in pleasure.

  “Yes, fuck. Ride me, baby.” I demanded, bucking my hips up in time with her descent.

  She gave me a satisfied smile as she rode my cock.

  “You feel so good inside of me. You fill me up to overflowing. Like another little fraction of an inch would be too much.” She gasped.

  She was good on my ego that was for sure.

  “Oh baby, you say the sweetest things to me,” I grunted, thrusting upwards, nearly displacing her.

  She squeaked, falling forward until her breasts were smashed tightly to my chest. Her nipples poking seductively into me.

  She slowly ground her ass into my lap, pushing my cock further into her until I was bumping her cervix. Buried so deep we felt like one.

  “You’re so beautiful,” I told her, cupping her face with my hand.

  Her eyes closed as she listened to my words, and then opened again. “I hope you think the
same in about seven more months when I’m as fat as a house.”

  “Honey, your ass can grow as big as it wants. It’s your pussy I’m interested in.” I teased.

  The implications of what she said didn’t register at first. It was only when she stopped her moving and looked at me with a small, shy smile on her face that I finally replayed what she’d said in my mind, realizing what she meant.

  And when that happened, I froze. “Are you pregnant, baby?”

  She giggled before she started to move again. “Apparently, not everything that happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”

  Moving lightening quick, I had her on her back with her feet over my shoulders, fucking her with all I had.

  All the pent up energy left in my body, flowing out of me with each thrust of my hips. Each plunge of my cock into her tight, wet heat.

  She gasped as her eyes rolled back in her head. Her body bowed, tits thrusting in the air, tempting me.

  Still working her, I bent down and captured her nipple between my lips, sucking hard as her orgasm burst through her, making a hoarse shout of exultation burst free from her mouth.

  It wasn’t long after her pussy started clamping down on my cock in rhythmic pulses that my own release started boiling up my spine, and shooting out of my cock in thick pulses.

  “Fuuuuck,” I groaned, snapping my hips forward in jerky thrusts.

  As I came down, I realized how uncomfortable it must be to have her knees up by her ears, so I pulled out, and dropped to my side next to her before pulling her into my chest.

  “To answer your question, yes I’d still like you when you’re as big as a house. For some reason, knowing you’re carrying me around inside of you really turns me on.” I said against her hair.

  Her body shook in laughter.

  “I’ll remember you said that.”

  ***

  “Holy shit,” Viddy screamed from the living room. “Paul’s dad is on the news!”

  Dropping my dish rag in the sink, I walked into the living room to see Paul’s dad giving a statement about his decision to drop out of the senatorial race.

  “...I’m deeply saddened by the choices my wife has made. Due to those actions, I do not think I’m fit to run for senator at this time. I appreciate your words of support in my trying time. As of nine this morning, I have filed for divorce.”

  Morton Russo’s words were extremely heartfelt, and felt genuine. Even if they weren’t surprising.

  I’d gotten a complete rundown on what had gone on at The Russo’s, as well as what would happen next.

  What I hadn’t done was share any of that with Viddy. I’d hoped to tell her later this evening, only just hearing it all myself an hour before.

  “Did you know about this?” She gasped.

  I tilted my head to the side in acknowledgement. “That was what the phone call was about with Silas, about an hour ago.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Honestly? I was happy about the baby. I didn’t want to ruin it with that filth.” I said truthfully.

  Her shoulders slumped. “Well, I guess that’s a good reason. But fuck,” she growled. “I was with that man for nearly a year. I had no clue he had a brain tumor. Nor did his mom act anything but nice to me. That’s so fucked up it’s not even funny.”

  I gathered her into my arms. “Life’s fucked up, babe. You just take it how you can get it. Use the cards you’re dealt and move on.”

  “So poetic, Officer Spurlock.” She teased, wrapping her arms around my neck.

  I bent down and kissed her upturned mouth. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Mrs. Spurlock.”

  “Love you to pieces.” She said, tightening her arms as she uttered the words I loved hearing.

  The meaning behind the words meant a lot to her since her parents had said the same to each other throughout their marriage. Now she was carrying on the tradition with me, and that made me feel fuckin’ high as a kite.

  “Squeeze you back together.” I promised.

  Epilogue

  If you’ve ever passed your husband while he was making a bust, and you don’t make eye contact.

  -You might be a police wife.

  Trance

  4 years later

  “Uhh, Unit 5-2, we’ve got a child on the line for you.” Dispatch said over the radio with a touch of amusement in her voice.

  The table of cops surrounding me all turned to look at me, and I sighed.

  “10-4. Patch her through.” I moaned, covering my face with my hands.

  Sometimes I wanted to beat my head against a table for my stupidity. Unknowingly, I’d taught our oldest child, Oakley, how to dial 911 if she ever needed me. Well, not necessarily me, per se, but the police in general. I’d told her if she was ever in need of help, to call me or daddy’s friends.

  She took it seriously.

  In the two weeks she’d known how to dial 911, she’d called it no less than five times since. I’d yet to tell Viddy that she was doing it, though. I kind of liked that she knew she could call me if she needed me. I only wished she didn’t dial 911 to do it.

  I’d have to break her of it sooner or later, but since we were such a small town, everyone looked at it to be more ‘cute’ than annoying.

  “Daddy?” Oakley’s cute little voice said over the airwaves.

  Everybody with a radio had to be smiling with how cute and sweet she sounded. Hell, I was beaming from ear to ear.

  “Yes, baby.” I answered.

  “Mommy won’t let me get more chocolate milk.” My little angel said.

  The chief’s face showed longing as he listened to the encounter, and I knew he wished his children were that small again. My kids loved The Chief and he loved them back.

  “You know you only get one cup of chocolate milk a day.” I chastised her gently.

  Loki’s eyes were bright with laughter as he listened to our conversation. He was Oakley’s godfather and she had him wrapped around her little finger.

  “Fort ate my darts again.” Oakley whined.

  Fort was actually named Ford, and was our fifteen-month-old son, and he was a little hellion.

  Then again, so was Oakley.

  “You know mommy told you not to shoot those with your brother around.” I explained to her.

  I’d bought her a Nerf gun for her birthday after she started to show interest in my own side arm. In the interest of early gun safety, I taught her all the rules that came with having something special like a gun, and she loved it. The only problem was the fact that our son liked to chew on the spongy darts because they felt good on his gums.

  “Yeah, that’s what mommy said. Gotsta go, daddy. Mommy’s cawin’. I lub you.” She sang.

  Before I could answer she was gone, and every single man at our table had a soft smile on their face.

  “You’re daughter’s a spitfire, just like her momma.” The Chief observed.

  I nodded.

  “You’ve got that right.” I confirmed.

  “Alright, let’s hand out the grids and get y’all on patrol.” The Chief announced, effectively putting an end to my good day.

  ***

  Viddy

  I walked through the house picking up toys and trash from the kids.

  My eyes closed as I listened to the quiet peace that filled the house.

  Today had been a long day.

  Trance had gone in at eight, and had worked a sixteen-hour shift. It was now 1224 hours, and I listened intently for the garage door to go up.

  I’d made it another four feet into the living room and tossed no less than twelve more toys into the toy bin when I heard the blessed sound that made my heart start beating correctly again.

  The kitchen door that led to the garage opened, followed by the sound of the garage door closing.

  Heavy boot steps and the click-click of Kosher’s clawed feet walked inside, and I rushed into the kitchen.

  Radar beat me to it, though, going straight
for Trance without a second thought.

  I heard Trance greet Radar, and smiled.

  They still had a very strong bond, even four years later.

  Radar was still going strong at thirteen years old, and a lot of that was due to our kids. He loved them to pieces.

  The distinct sound of Trance taking off his Kevlar vest, followed shortly by the clink-clink of his many utensils and pins being placed on the top of the dryer was a reassuring sound to my ears.

  Every time I heard the sound of that Velcro, I said a silent prayer of thanks for getting him home safely and in one piece again.

  Just as I rounded the kitchen island, Trance exited the laundry room, sans belt, and opened his arms wide.

  I barreled into them, burying my nose into his damp shirt.

  It’d been raining again.

  I hated the days when it rained the most. That, holidays and full moons.

  It seemed like every single dumbass from this side of the Mason Dixon Line made an appearance, and liked to ‘release the crazy’ as I liked to call it.

  Inevitably, it meant that I spent a lot of time with just myself and the kids.

  “Hey,” he said gruffly as he ran his nose along my temple.

  “Hey,” I breathed him in.

  “Did you save me any dinner?” He teased.

  I rolled my eyes at him and disengaged from his arms, walking to the microwave and pressing the one button to heat his, now cold, dinner up.

  It was only spaghetti and meatballs, but it was food.

  I didn’t have much energy to cook today. I was just plain exhausted.

  Trance bent down and picked up a stray bottle of Ford’s that was wrapped in hair ties from the floor and tossed it into the sink.

  “Rough day?” He asked as he took me in.

  My hands were at my back where they were most comfortable for the burgeoning weight of my belly.

  I was seven months pregnant, and so beyond ready to not be pregnant anymore it wasn’t even funny.