Keys To My Cuffs (The Heroes of The Dixie Wardens MC Book 4)

by Lani Lynn Vale

  That probably had a lot to do with his elderly mother sitting on the barstool at the front of the store, though.

  “Free Wan-ton soup,” Barney glowered at me as he handed over my order.

  I took it, smiling thankfully. “Have a good day, Barney.”

  He didn’t reply as I exited the store.

  The trials and tribulations of being a police wife sometimes seemed exuberant at times, but when I opened the door to find Loki singing Disney songs to our children, I knew all those trials were worth it.

  The man was the light of my life, and I’d do anything for him.

  ***

  Loki

  The house was completely dark when I entered.

  After eating with the kids, we’d just started getting them in bed when I was called out for a homicide.

  Luckily, Channing now made her own hours.

  Brittany and Channing had opened their own funeral home last year, and now worked whatever hours they wanted.

  If they didn’t want to work, then didn’t have to.

  That worked out well for our family, because there were times, like today, that I was called out without a moment’s notice.

  The beep-beep of the alarm being reset had me turning to find Channing standing beside the door punching in the numbers to re-arm the house.

  “Hey, baby. Did I wake you?” I asked as I stepped into her and gave her a soft kiss on the mouth.

  She curled her arms around my neck and leaned into the kiss slightly before breaking away. “No, Justice has a fever. We’ve been up, on and off, for about three hours now.”

  Concern etched her features, and I put my hand around her neck, bringing her back into the space where she belonged. My arms.

  “Is the fever down now?” I asked.

  She lifted her shoulders. “Kind of. He’s asleep on our bed. I couldn’t get him onto his own without him screaming.”

  I ran my cheek along the top of her head, letting my beard run against the soft locks of her hair.

  Justice was mostly a healthy little boy. Until you got to the asthma attacks.

  We’d known there was a chance that he’d have asthma, but that first time he’d had an attack, I’d never been more scared in my life.

  He’d been six months old, and I’d taken him out to the park with me. Channing had been at work with Brittany when all of a sudden Justice started freaking out.

  His eyes went wide, followed shortly by the wheezing inhale. His ribs started pulling in while he used his accessory muscles to help him breathe.

  It was truly the most terrifying thing I’d seen.

  I’d, of course, seen Channing have them multiple times in the past. I’d seen what they did to her, and how they brought her down.

  Then to see that on my own child had asthma knocked me for a loop.

  Luckily I’d been there with not only Trance, but Kettle and Sebastian as well.

  They’d kept me calm, and we’d arrived at the hospital where Justice became the newest user of an inhaler.

  Now we kept one in every vehicle. I kept one in my pocket, regardless of whether I was working or not, and Channing kept one in the diaper bag and her purse.

  “Alright, baby. I’ll be there in a minute. I just want to check the house real quick,” I said as I let her go.

  She nodded, walking quietly across the foyer and disappearing into the living room.

  Her long white gown flowed behind her airily, and her brown hair, a good deal longer now, floated around her shoulders and waist as she swayed.

  Shaking my head to clear it, I walked the house and double-checked the windows, locks, and doors.

  There’d be no loving going on in the Rector house tonight, unfortunately, but that was okay.

  Sometimes love wasn’t about intimacy. Sometimes it was about just being with the person you loved. Knowing they were close. Feeling their skin on yours. Smelling their scent. Laughing with you.

  That’s what I had with Channing.

  Peace.

  Love.

  And forever.

  Coming Soon

  Life To My Flight

  March 5, 2015

  Prologue

  I walked up to my mother’s grave. Gravel crunched underneath my boots as I followed the winding path from where I’d parked my truck.

  The grass that had been green only a month ago was now brown.

  The leaves on the trees had gone from a nice, leafy green to brown, yellow, and red explosions of color.

  Fall was in full swing.

  Not only the weather had changed.

  My demeanor, for one, had gone through a major overhaul.

  The last time I’d been here, I had been a wreck.

  My mother had been my best friend. She’d been my confidant. My savior. My everything.

  Then she’d had a heart attack while I was overseas, and died as a result.

  My father had died years ago, but words couldn’t explain how much more it hurt to lose my mom.

  “Do you see, Nonnie? I wasn’t lying to you. Papa died a year ago,” a woman’s tired voice said from up ahead.

  My eyes went from my destination to the direction the woman’s voice came from. I only saw their heads over the gravestones though.

  This cemetery was an old one. There were a ton of huge monuments, headstones, catacombs, and even above ground crypts. This was the heart and soul of Natchitoches, Louisiana.

  “No, child. I don’t understand. He was just with me yesterday. Ollie wouldn’t leave me like this. He just wouldn’t,” a frail elderly woman’s voice cried desolately.

  My heart constricted as I listened to the woman weep uncontrollably.

  “Oh, Nonnie. I’m so sorry,” the woman replied breathily.

  I hung my head and walked to my mother’s grave, trying my hardest to ignore the sound of the crying going on from just across the foot path.

  My mother’s grave was covered in flowers from my sisters.

  They felt that the area should be beautiful, and I couldn’t disagree with them. My mom deserved the best, which was why I threw nearly two years of a paycheck at the burial plot that would bury her next to my father. Even if it meant displacing the prior occupant.

  I sat down, leaning forward until my arms hung from my upraised knees. My head rested on my forearms, and I tried my hardest to let my brain tune out the pitiful wails of the old woman.

  It was really pulling on my non-existent heartstrings.

  “Ollie! Ollie! I’m right here, what are you doing way over there?” The old woman exclaimed.

  I looked up to see the old woman barreling towards me as fast as her walker, decorated with hot pink tennis balls at the bottom, could carry her.

  The woman, who I’d only seen at a cursory glance stood, started forward. However, the old woman, Nonnie, was surprisingly fast and nimble despite her age.

  She flew across the grass, then the gravel, with surprisingly graceful maneuvering.

  “Nonnie, slow down!” The woman chided.

  The younger woman finally caught up to her ‘Nonnie’ and hugged her tightly. “Nonnie, that’s not Papa.”

  Nonnie looked crestfallen. “But...but...but where’s my Ollie?”

  My guess was that the woman had Alzheimer’s.

  “I’m so sorry, sir, my Nonnie doesn’t understand.” The woman finally gave me her eyes.

  She was beautiful.

  Short brown hair that came to her jaw with the front bangs tucked back behind her hair, she reminded me of one of my little sisters. She wasn’t overtly tall or beautiful, but she was intriguing.

  Her black tights and brown suede boots hugged her long, shapely legs.

  Her top half was swallowed by a long, flowy shirt that came down to her knees, and barely showed off anything good.

  “That’s okay, it isn’t a big deal,” I finally said.

  The woman smiled.

  “That’s go
od. Nonnie doesn’t mean to kick up a fuss. Do you?” The woman looked at her Nonnie.

  Nonnie looked up. “Rue, what are we doing here?”

  The woman, Rue, looked extremely relieved. “Oh, Nonnie. You wanted to see Papa’s grave. Now we’re going to go back home so I can get to work on time tonight. Right?”

  “Right dear,” Nonnie said, patting the younger woman’s hand. “Let’s go. I made you late enough.”

  The woman gave me a fleeting smile as they walked away, and I was well and truly caught.

  ***

  Rue

  1 year later

  “I’m not that man,” Cleo said to me, his hand on my face. “I’ll never be that man. I’m sorry baby.”

  Cleo was my best friend. My confidant. The person who I turned to when I needed it.

  In all ways but one.

  He didn’t do relationships.

  I knew he loved me, and I loved him.

  However, something held him back. Something always held on to that last tie. That one single piece of him that kept him from taking that final step.

  He said it was the fact that he was never here.

  I knew better.

  It didn’t have anything to do with the fact that he was, a PJ, a pararescue jumper, and everything to do with the fact that he lost his father at a young age, and then his mother at a time when he needed her the most.

  He was jaded to love.

  Not because he was betrayed by a woman, but because he was loved too much by one. Which was reciprocated in kind by him.

  His mom.

  The same went for his sisters. They were so tight, that sometimes it was hard to get in.

  I was the fourth woman in his life, and he didn’t want to chance loving me, and then losing me.

  He could tell himself whatever lie made him sleep at night, but I knew better.

  It didn’t help that every man on his particular jump team was either divorced or single. They didn’t have a single successful relationship between the six of them.

  He didn’t think it was possible, and he was too stubborn to see otherwise.

  “Please,” I whispered against his lips. “Please.”

  He groaned in defeat, grasping me by the hips with his large hands, and pinning me up against the wall with his large, muscular body.

  Mikhail ‘Cleo’ Caruso was the epitome of perfection. Tall, with hair black as midnight, and eyes, the color of charcoal.

  He had perfect, long lashes that women only wished they could have, and a perpetual bad attitude.

  He was a dick and a half to everyone that came into contact with him...except for me.

  I gasped when my shirt was yanked off my body, and then unceremoniously tossed to the floor.

  “You want me? You’ve fucking got me,” Cleo snarled.

  Then he was on me.

  ***

  I woke the next morning to my body deliciously sore, and my mind a hazy mess from the blissful overload of the night before.

  Then my mind came back online when I realized that Cleo was no longer there, and I knew that I’d fucked up.

  I knew as soon as I’d slept with him that he’d leave. I just thought I’d be awake to convince him not to go.

  Here I was sleeping through his exit, and I had only sore muscles to show for it.

  I’d gotten to know Cleo through my many visits with my grandmother to the gravesite to visit my Papa. On some of those occasions, her Alzheimer’s wasn’t acting up, but most of them, she couldn’t remember who I was.

  I loved that woman with all of my heart, but I knew I couldn’t take care of her anymore. My full time home health nurse gave her two-week resignation yesterday, which meant that I was on my own.

  When Nonnie was lucid, I loved having her here, but when she wasn’t, it was a nightmare.

  It was hard to see someone you love with all your heart, go through that.

  It was even harder to admit that I couldn’t take care of her anymore.

  It’d been with Cleo’s help that I’d done as well as I had for so long, but I had a very bad feeling that that support had just jumped out of the proverbial helicopter, and didn’t have plans of returning.