by T. R. Cupak
Jared grabs his spare gun from under his pant leg and aims it at Denny. “Don’t fucking move.”
Denny grins, gun raised, and makes to pull the trigger, but Jared has faster reflexes. The bullet hits Denny right in the middle of his forehead. He falls back into a lifeless heap on my floor.
Jared grabs the key to the cuffs and sets me free. “Are you hurt?” His eyes do an inspection of their own.
“No. You saved me before he could.”
His forehead comes to rest on top of mine as he sighs. “Never again, Claire. I’m never letting you out of my sight ever again.”
Tears pool in my eyes. Everything that took place between us earlier is insignificant compared to what could have happened. “Promise?”
“You bet your sexy ass it’s a promise.” He lets out another deep sigh.
“What is it?”
“Now I have to be nice to that fucking bird.” He kisses me on the nose and laughs.
Who knew Petey would save the day?
Epilogue
Jared
Rain pounds against the roof as I watch Petey take the nut from my hand and chomp down. “Good boy.”
“You spoil him,” Claire teases from her spot on the bed next to me. We’ve been holed up in her room the past couple of days and I’ve even tolerated having Petey with us.
“He’s growing on me.” I shrug. Since he saved my life, I’ve been slowly warming up to him. “And he’s stopped calling me ‘cocksucker,’ so we’re like kin now.”
“Of course you are.” She rolls her eyes.
“Are you mocking me, Claire Bear?” My fingers tickle her sides until she’s squirming underneath me, making my dick rock hard. She moves to get up, but I press her into the mattress. “Nope. I told you I’m never letting you out of my sight ever again.”
She laughs. “I might need to use the bathroom at some point.”
“Tough.” I bend down and press a soft kiss to her mouth. No matter how hard I try, I can’t get the images of her cuffed to the bed out of my head and something tells me I won’t any time soon. “I can think of something better to do.” One hand squeezes her firm ass while the other plays with the buttons of her shirt.
“I like what you’re thinking, Blue.” She moans as I slip my tongue inside her mouth.
“Tell me something, Claire Bear.”
“What?” Her thighs wrap around my waist, pulling my dick against her core.
“Do you taste like cinnamon everywhere?” I slide down her body, ready to find out when her phone rings, cockblocking me.
“Don’t answer it.”
“I have to. What if it’s the hospital with an update on Ms. Kroger? She still hasn’t woken up.”
Now I feel like an ass. My finger dips under the waistline of her shorts in small teasing circles. Just because she’s on the phone doesn’t mean I can’t have my fun.
She sucks in a breath before answering her phone. “Anderson, here. You are?” She smacks at my hand. “When?” Her wide green eyes flick toward me. “Okay. See you then.”
“Who was that?” Suspicion creeps in.
“My brothers are coming over.”
“When?” Shit!
She bites her bottom lip before mumbling, “Tonight.”
“Fuck me!”
“Fuck me,” Petey squawks back.
She shoots me a look, but I just shrug. I have bigger problems. Two to be exact. I glance down at my woman in my arms and realize something—it’s worth it. For a chance at forever with her, I’ll take whatever storm comes our way. Even if the fucker has feathers.
* * *
THE END
About Christine Besze
Christine Besze is an author who brings rom-com to a whole new level with relatable characters who give you laugh out loud moments in her contemporary romance novels. She lives in Georgia with her husband, two gingers, and a mini-herd of German Shepherds.
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BREATHING | Dee Ellis
Chapter One
Suspension? Can't be. No way.
"Not yet but it’s coming, Diggs. Keep it up. A rip is coming, fella." I control the urge to roll my eyes at the Captain's use of fella right now.
"Yes, sir. I understand." I nod my head soberly, forgoing the slice of attitude I usually give—because this is sure as shit a sober situation.
And yet here I land in my captain’s office for basically never being sober. My punch-drunk, philandering ways finally bled in to my job. Something I swore I would never allow. Swore I’d be better than the guys I watch throw it all away on booze and broads. Guess I was wrong.
Captain O'Neil gives me a shake of his balding head, his ears and cheeks rosy from the talking to he’s spent the last twenty-five minutes giving me. First thing in the morning, he called me in to his office and I knew just how my Monday was going to start. Made worse because my Sunday ended just hours ago.
"Final warning, Diggs. Hit the streets. Arrest some bad guys. Do your fucking job." I recognize a dismissal when I hear it so I nod again before I get my ass out of his office.
Five years since I left the academy, and this is the first 'come in to my office, fella' from Captain O'Neil. Never needed a sit down before because I always did my fucking job. I am a damn good cop. And, I love my fucking job. Love the excitement, the unknown, catching the bad guys, solving a case. Seems I maybe lost sight of why I became a cop.
I wanted to make a difference once. Both my parents were lawyers who never trusted cops because they defended crooked fucks. Made me want to do better. My plan was to work cases that mattered and put away the crooked fucks. Bonus, I get the gun, the badge, the handcuffs and maybe a little glory. Becoming a cop went against everything the Diggs family believed in. Another bonus.
I spent my first few years busting my ass on the street. All year I’ve been buried in case studies, prepping for my detective test. Until the past few months, at least. Spent those buried between the legs of any broad the booze talked me in to taking home. Realizing I risked my job for worthless moments made me sick. Either that, or my weekend of shenanigans had me ill; probably both.
"You look like shit, bro." Stiles, my greenhorn partner and the bane of my existence laughs as I slide into our patrol car.
Although it’s a lovely spring day, the Chicago air smelling fresh instead of filthy, it's too early for his shit especially after Captain O'Neil's lecture. Pulling out our box of morning after remedies from our console, I dump some aspirin and Rolaids into one hand, flipping him the bird with the other.
"Like looking in a fucking mirror, huh? Because you look like shit too, pal." I wince as my bark echoes in the small confines of the car, making my head throb.
"Fuck you. Just pissed I got laid and you didn't." At last, I let the eye-roll loose, shaking my head at him as he pulls out into traffic.
I definitely got laid last night. And the night before. In fact, I got laid repeatedly all weekend—by the same woman—from the moment I ended shift on Friday night until early this morning. Usually, we would share our badge bunny shit like war vets swapping stories.
Not this time.
Haven’t wanted to share since I walked out of O’Malley’s Friday night. O’Malley’s is where the first responders hang out. Firefighters, Cops, Paramedics. We shoot the shit, drink together, and play pool or darts. All of it while surrounded by women. Badge Bunnies. Women who get hot for a guy in uniform, no matter what he does by day. Long as he makes her come that night.
Even though I'm old enough to know better—older than most the crew I run with—I'm still young enough to pretend I don't. For the past few years, O'Malley's has been like my own personal Disneyland—and I rode every fucking ride. Sometimes twice.
Though I’m not ashamed of it, lately I’ve been looking at life a little differently. Most of my friends are settling down and finding good women to start lives with. Never though
t that might appeal to me. And, maybe it never would have if I hadn't almost wrecked one of my friends' chances by not doing my job.
Last year my friend Finn Cooper asked me to check into some broad stalking his lady. I thought it was a bunch of bullshit. Jealous bitches being bitches—it's what they do, right? Wrong. This had not been just some broad; she was cunning, calculating and conniving. And, I fucked her every chance I got even as she stalked his girlfriend—a woman I’d known half her life.
Gigi Cooper had trusted me to do my job. And I didn't.
Luckily, it amounted to nothing—no one was hurt—but I'd failed at my job. Failed my friends. Took me months to iron things out with Finn, his best friend—and Gigi's brother—Cage and the rest of the gang. Months and a broken nose. During those months, I watched those guys build lives with the kind of women I didn't even realize existed.
"Something's up with you. I can tell. Was O'Neil's talking to that serious, man?" Stiles asks as he drives slowly through our beat, eyes constantly scanning.
"Yeah, it was. Says I’m slipping. Keep it up I won't have a badge." I grumble as I shake myself and do what he told me to. My fucking job.
After half a dozen speeding tickets, an arrest for a warrant, and breaking up two fights at Millennium Park, we head for lunch. Stiles has been grilling me all day about my weekend because normally by now, I’d have told a dozen stories. And I have stories. Just not ones I'm sharing.
"I am more certain than ever that something is up with you," Stiles' dark brows furrow as he points his onion rings at me, "I was kidding earlier about you not getting laid. No stories? No bragging? I don't buy it. You get more ass than a bus seat." I shake my head at him as I bite into my burger, doing my best to avoid talking about my weekend.
"You are a disgusting dick, Stiles." I glare at him, taking a sip of my Coke as he smirks back.
"Nah, just honest. What the hell is going on with you, Jess?" I throw my burger down as it starts to turn bitter in my mouth. I don't want to discuss this shit with him. Where's someone like Cage or even Hunter when you need them?
"Do I need to bang some random every weekend?" I watch him consider this before he nods enthusiastically.
"Do you? Yes, you do. Don't know a weekend you've missed since we met. Surprised your dick pic isn't hanging in the back of O'Malley's like all those stupid badge bunnies' photos." I snort a bitter laugh out, tired of the mention of the fucking badge bunnies and that stupid bar.
"I don't, really, Stiles. Go get us refills, rookie." I tip my glass towards the bar and he sighs, snatching it out of my hands. He knows the rules, he does what we elder statesmen say until we say he doesn't have to. He keeps prying into what I do with my dick that won't be any time soon.
Once he's lost in the press of the lunch rush, my phone is in my hand. A swipe across the screen, a tap at my messages and there it is again. That stupid molten feeling in my chest, in my gut, in my dick that I spent the entire weekend dealing with. Trying to work out of my system.
Three nights ago, I spotted a hot brunette at the bar. Sophia. Knew right away she was no badge bunny. Sipping slowly at a beer—not some cute fruity drink—she didn't want eyes on her. I never took mine off her. Thought for sure she would shoot me down after I sent her another beer and tried to join her.
Instead, once I sat down, neither of us said a thing. Not at first. I didn't turn on the Diggs charm, didn't try to hustle her to a hotel or her place. I just sat there with her as we drank our beers. Sophia asked me if I wanted another. Told her I damn sure did.
That's when we started talking. About our night, about the city, about life. Just a little—just enough to call it talk. Never too much, never really enough. After our third beer, I threw some bills on the bar and we headed out.
Without discussion we ended up at my house, both ready for what was coming. We barely made it inside my place before we were on one another. Once I sank inside her that first time, I knew I'd never felt anything like her. Even with the condom she insisted on—which I would have too—I felt more connected, more tied to her than I had ever felt to any woman. I didn't want to stop. And, for almost three days, we rarely did stop.
I took Sophia more ways than I knew were even possible. I watched her come again and again, more addicted to the sight every time I witnessed it. Sophia pleased in my bed was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
Not just because she had lovely, thick chocolate waves that spilled over my pillows. Not just because she had perfect round tits and a mouth that looked so fucking right wrapped around my cock. Not just because when I bent her over the bed and rode her hard, she smiled back at me with that mouth and those pretty green eyes and asked for more. It was more than that.
Hours later and I swear I can still taste her, still smell her silky skin—smooth and sweet like buttery cream. Fuck, I’m hard thinking about her beneath me coming around my cock as I drove into her again and again.
"I need to go," Sophia whispered this morning, "Got places to be, lover boy." I refused to let her go at first, rolling to pin her beneath me as she laughed.
God, that laugh. I had it for a few days and knew I wanted it for a fuckova lot longer. Between fucking like animals, I talked to her more than I ever had another woman. And yet, as she was ready to climb from my bed, out of my arms and out of my life, I realized I hadn't learned a single thing that mattered.
Like her last name or who she really was. What it would take to own all of whatever she was.
"Skip it. Stay right here, beneath me, with me inside you until we can't stand it." Pinning her arms above us, I grew panicked at the idea of her walking out my front door.
"Can't. Skipping it landed me here. As wonderful as it was, Jess," Sophia sobered, cradling my jaw in her little hands as her eyes lit with something that hurt my chest, "Here is not some place I can stay. I need to go." And, I knew she did. Because whatever was behind those eyes felt like too much for me.
I let her go after making love to her once more, watching her eyes as she came with me inside her. Fuck, it was perfect. And then I kissed her sweet mouth, told her goodbye and let her go. But before she left, I asked her for her number, promising to never use it unless I couldn't stand it.
I texted her two hours after she left.
Me: Long as I could stand it. Let me see you again.
Sophia: Can't. I want to, Jess. I just can't. We're both better off.
I totally disagreed and told her as much but she never responded until Stiles and I sat down for lunch. I read over our messages as he grabbed us refills, wanting to keep it for myself. Not wanting to answer the questions I know he would ask.
Me: You don't mean that, Soph.
Sophia: No. I don't. Doesn't change things. Don't want you thinking I don't want more of whatever happened this weekend. I do. God, I do. I just can't, Jess. I am sorry.
"Fuck!" I bark just as Stiles makes it back with the refills.
For the rest of my shift, I go through the motions. Wondering just exactly what 'whatever happened this weekend' means to Sophia. Because to me, it means my entire world was blown off its fucking axis. I never take a woman back to my place. I didn't want to let Sophia leave.
Yet I knew once that door clicked shut after her, it was done. Over.
"See you tomorrow, partner," Stiles calls with a look that tells me his questions are far from over.
They are for today. Twelve grueling mind-fucked hours later, it’s End of Watch.
Instead of going home to the messy bed that will smell of the woman I can't get out of my head, I roam aimlessly. I end up out by the lake at Finn and Gigi Cooper's front door. I knock twice before I hear Gigi's giggle and Finn's booming voice. The door swings open and the massive monster I can thankfully call a friend again takes up the entire space.
"What's up, Diggs? What brings you out here, brother?" I glance past him at his wife as she bounces their newborn on her shoulder, tossing her a friendly nod.
"About to lose my job, I thin
k. Spend too much time with booze and broads whose names I can’t remember. But I spent the weekend with a woman I can't seem to forget. Figured I'd come ask you what the fuck to do since you were once almost as big a piece of shit as me." Finn cocks his head and a slow, evil smirk twists his features.
"Son-of-a-bitch. Met your match, Diggs? Never thought I'd see the day. Come on, let’s teach you a few things." He makes a broad sweep of his thick arm to invite me and with a resigned sigh, I follow him in, ready to listen to whatever he has to say.
I came here ready to listen, after all; Finn clearly got it figured out after all, didn’t he?
Chapter Two
I talk with Finn for hours about women, life, and about when you choose to grow the fuck up and do right by both of them. Learn a lot about how much Finn, Cage and the other guys had grown. I realize watching from the sidelines hadn't been for nothing.
I'm twenty-seven. Did my dirt so my hands won't ever really be clean. Still I’d like a chance to clean them up enough to have something more.
Something like Finn and Cage have now; a family, a wife, kids.
I see plenty of families while doing my job. Families tearing themselves apart, ripped apart by laws that don't make sense, sent to places they were trying to escape. Families who sacrifice everything for one another and ones who sacrifice each other for nothing.
"Why are you so serious lately? Not just tonight. It's been a while, Diggs." Finn asks as we sit out on his back deck overlooking the lake.
"I'm old, man. Too old to do the shit I been doing. Had a call that got me thinking, I guess." I wince as I remember a scene that’s haunted me for weeks.
Domestic abuse is something I see every single day. While I can't save every single victim, there is a little guy inside of me who always wants to. Who wants to tell the victim, whoever he or she is, that they have options. Choices better than being someone's rag doll.
