Cop Tales an Anthology for a Cause
Page 1
Cop Tales
An Anthology for a Cause
T.R. Cupak
Abbi Glines
Kat T. Masen
Kimberly Knight
Jess Bryant
Maren Lee
Kathleen Kelly
J.L. Perry
S. Cole
Martha Sweeney
Nicole Loufas
M Clarke
Christine Besze
Dee Ellis
Linnea Valle
Copyright © 2018 by Abbi Glines, T.R. Cupak, Kat T. Masen, Kimberly Knight, Jess Bryant, Maren Lee, Kathleen Kelly, J.L. Perry, S. Cole, Martha Sweeney, Nicole Loufas, Christine Besze, Dee Ellis, M. Clarke, and Linnea Valle.
* * *
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
* * *
Except for the original material written by the author(s), all songs, song titles, and lyrics mentioned in this novel are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders. This also applies to movies and movie quotes.
* * *
Although this anthology was written to raise awareness and donate to a special cause, the views and opinions expressed in the book are those of the individual authors and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of ODMP. ODMP is not a partner, sponsor, or affiliate of Cop Tales an Anthology for a Cause.
* * *
All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. This book or any portion of thereof may not be reproduced, scanned, distributed, or used in any manner whatsoever, via Internet, electronic, or print, without the express written permission of the authors, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
* * *
For information, or information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the individual author.
* * *
Edited by: Contact individual authors
Cover Design & Formatted by: N.E. Henderson
* * *
Cop Tales: An Anthology for a Cause was written to bring awareness to the Officer Down Memorial Page and it is dedicated to the men, women, and K-9 units who have lost their lives in the line of duty. Our hearts go out to the family and friends who have lost a loved one while serving and protecting their community.
* * *
For more information about the Officer Down Memorial Page (ODMP) please go to www.odmp.org
* * *
#ODMP
#IndieAuthorsBackTheBlue
#WeWalkTheThinBlueLine
Contents
ALL IT TOOK | Abbi Glines
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
About Abbi Glines
CUFFED TOGETHER | T.R. Cupak
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
About T.R. Cupak
LOVE RELAODED | Kat T. Masen
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
About Kat T. Masen
WATCH ME | Kimberly Knight
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
About Kimberly Knight
OUT OF THE BLUE | Jess Bryant
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Epilogue
About Jess Bryant
BACKBURN | Maren Lee
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Epilogue
About Maren Lee
SMALL TOWN BLUE | Kathleen Kelly
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
About Kathleen Kelly
SAVIOUR | J.L. Perry
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
About J.L. Perry
BROTHER | S. Cole
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
About Shay Cole
HOLLYWOOD | Martha Sweeney
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
About Martha Sweeney
SCARLET BLUES | Nicole Loufas
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
About Nicole Loufas
A NEW BEGINNING | M. Clarke
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
About M. Clarke
BLUE | Christine Besze
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Epilogue
About Christine Besze
BREATHING | Dee Ellis
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
About Dee Ellis
PROTECT AND SERVE | Linnea Valle
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
About Linnea Valle
ALL IT TOOK | Abbi Glines
Chapter One
How did most females make that appear so effortless? The “hair toss over the shoulder with a flirty gleam in their eyes?” Were they born with the talent? You either got that, as far as I was concerned, or you received . . . um . . . the skill of reading six books a week beneath a study lamp. Was it all a coin flip with God? Handing out talents? I imagined him sitting up there on his throne with a handful of each of these traits before casually handing them off to every tiny baby that was leaving f
or earth. To one, he’d say, “You’ll be an excellent flirt,” and to another, “You’ll enjoy solitude and reading.” Maybe he did . . . or didn’t? I tend to over-imagine.
My best friend Gemma’s coin definitely landed on the “flirty gleam” side. Again, I watched as she tossed her long dark hair over her shoulder, tilting her head slightly to the right to lean in with complete confidence. She was entertaining more than one man with all that sass. Smiling, I lifted my soda and took a drink. This was her idea, which became a forced eviction, because for me to be here she had to come to my apartment and force me out.
Glancing at Gemma’s short sundress and the silly cowboy boots that she’d insisted I wear made me roll my eyes. I didn’t pick up guys at bars. I read books about girls who did. Gemma was convinced that my lack of self-esteem and staying in to read was all Ken’s fault. Yet, I was this way before Ken. He’d hurt me, sure. His lies, deceit, and cheating didn’t help my social awkwardness. But he didn’t make me who I was. I was never good at socializing.
In the end, Ken said “You’re boring, Sugar.” He’d then shrugged like the breakup was sad and completely my fault. I hadn’t gone after Ken. He’d pursued me following a heated debate during a study group in college. We’d been together for five years.
Refusing to think about Ken, and the wasted years and money that I’d spent on him, I reached into my purse and got my book. I brought it just in case. Then again, was I kidding anybody? I knew I’d need this book in a bar. Gemma was already three shots of tequila in and in her own little world. Getting me out of the apartment was no longer her concern. I’d need to keep an eye on her. Make sure she didn’t leave with a strange man. She had to get home safely.
My worn copy of Jane Eyre had been my choice for tonight. I figured I knew it well enough that I could frequently look away and scan for Gemma to keep tabs on her. I couldn’t get lost in this one. After taking another sip of my drink I leaned back and opened the book.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t continue to sit over there and watch you without at least meeting you . . . if you want to be met?”
My head snapped up. The deep voice was too close to not be talking to me. When he interrupted my flow, I’d barely gotten through the second sentence. Looking toward him, I noticed the tall stranger’s eyes without making direct eye contact. That I couldn’t easily do. But his were a blue I couldn’t avoid. They startled me and made me wonder if eyes could be that color. Almost like a blue crystal. It was unnerving.
He grinned, eyes sparkling with the movement, slight crinkling a bit at the corners of his eyes. I watched his mouth for a long second. I was curious about the grin that made his eyes do such amazing things. He had full lips without a beard, which was rare these days. His skin was tan with a wide sharp jawline. The man extended his hand. “Ansel,” he said.
“Ansel,” I repeated, now studying his outstretched hand. He chuckled, or was that an actual laugh? It should be. I was so flustered. I’d never been good at talking to strangers, but currently, in this moment, his eyes had me so frazzled I wasn’t sure what was happening.
“My name,” he said, my eyes jerking back to his face. His eyes, those eyes, were so still there.
“Yes,” I agreed. He’d told me his name. It was Ansel. I’d never met an Ansel before. His name was as unique as his eyes.
Laughter boomed from his chest and I jumped, startled by the sound. I was being ridiculous. Why did I react this way? While forcing myself not to be so weird I blurted out, “Sugar.”
He stopped laughing but was still grinning. “Are you requesting some or is that your way to hit on me? Because I think I’ll take it.” He sat down in the seat across from me. Those eyes of his remained locked on mine as if he didn’t want to miss the next crazy thing I said. Or lunatic thing I did.
“My name,” I clarified.
He frowned. Then the smile emerged. “Are you telling me your name is Sugar?”
I nodded and swallowed hard. To say that I was nervous was an understatement. He was too pretty. Too sexy. Too much. I was better with nerdy guys who had books and wore glasses. Maybe had a crooked tooth or some other flaw. But not this . . . I didn’t do this.
“Damn,” he said slowly, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest to appear completely pleased. “I’d like to meet your mama.”
My cheeks heated. My name had always been something that got a reaction. Ken hated my name. In public he’d call me by my middle name, Belaney.
“She was young . . . and she’s . . . country.” That explanation didn’t really do my mother justice. Honey Miller was hard to explain. She’d had me when she was seventeen, then raised me without help, never missing a day of work. The velvet Elvis picture that belonged to my grandmother hung above the fireplace of her home in Belt Buckle, Tennessee.
Ansel nodded as if that made perfect sense. I wasn’t about to tell him her name. That would entice more laughter and questions. “Do you often read in bars?” he asked.
I sighed, remembering the book in my hands. Why was he talking to me? Every female in this bar had to be trying to get his attention. That is, the ones good at flirting. I was a waste of his time. Instead of being blunt and saying what I was thinking, I held up the book. I wasn’t going to be embarrassed. I liked to read. It was my thing.
“I don’t normally go to bars. My best friend forced me here tonight. I brought a book because I knew she’d forget me after a few shots and flirt the rest of the night.”
“She’s the brunette you keep checking on . . .” He was asking a question. It sounded like an observation the way he trailed the question off.
“Yes,” I replied, glancing back at her again. She was still focused on the same guy from earlier. I’d have to be more observant. I needed to monitor her.
“Donny won’t leave with your friend. Unless he takes her home.”
I turned back to Ansel and asked, “I suppose you know him?”
Ansel nodded. “I work with Donny. She’s safe. You can relax.”
I started to say something else when a noise sounded and he glanced down at his phone, cursing before leaping upwards. “Sugar . . . I gotta go,” he said, seductively testing my name on his lips. It made me tremble and that was new.
He began to say more when another voice yelled, “We have to leave!”
I turned. Donny was off his barstool beside Gemma and looking directly at Ansel.
A hand briefly touched my arm. “It was nice to meet you, Sugar.”
My mouth wouldn’t open. I was frozen from his simple touch. Frozen then overheated. He raced from the bar behind Donny. I watched them disappear. Wheeling, I looked at Gemma. She confusedly shrugged her shoulders before shifting her attention to a brand new guy.
Going back to my book, even Jane Eyre had lost its appeal. I sat there staring at the lines on the page while my brief time with Ansel replayed inside my head.
Chapter Two
While standing over Gemma with a cup of coffee, I nudged her with my knee. She’d passed out on my sofa the moment I’d gotten her inside last night. Her hangover was going to be fierce. But unlike me, she worked on Sundays since lots of wealthy women scheduled massages on Sundays. The spa where Gemma worked was inside a resort in town and it didn’t close on the Sabbath so folks could go to church.
“No,” she groaned, grabbing the edge of her blanket and covering her face to hide.
“I have coffee. You need to get up. You’ve got your first customer in an hour.”
“Oh god,” she said, followed by additional groans. “I hate my life.”
“You should hate tequila, not life. Now get up, have some water and coffee. Maybe put a little something on your stomach. After you shower just wear my clothes. Dearest, you stink.”