“No,” she answers mulishly, giving me a narrowed-eyed glare.
That ticks me off, because now instead of hitting the sack with a few drinks to knock me out, I know I’ll be doing a drive-by on her little house and a quick window peak to ensure that she’s safe and where she belongs.
I already do it on a nightly basis. Clara is a part of the family, and as such she’s one of mine…sort of…and what kind of person would I be if I didn’t look in on my family to make sure they’re okay and unharmed?
It makes it difficult to come back home to my empty bed, but I find myself doing it every night without fail if I’m not working, and even then, I have a unit do a drive-by just to check.
Tonight was going to be the first night I forced myself to stay in and fight the urge. Now, though, I know I can’t, not when anything could have happened to her between here and her little house on the outskirts of town.
***
“Yo, Lane, get your ass in here and close the Goddamned door.”
I’m dragging ass by noon the next day and feeling every one of my almost twenty-nine years, thanks to my vigil outside Clara’s last night. So when I say that having the chief call me into his office is not rubbing me the right way, I actually mean he’s more than likely to get a boot up his ass if he pisses me off.
“Yeah?”
Chief Dobson is fifty-five going on eighty with his balding head, sagging jowls, and a gut that resembles a mini keg wrapped in marshmallows. I despise the man and see eye to eye with him about as much as I do the other assholes working this unit.
Working IA is not ideal, not when I’ve been ordered to investigate almost an entire precinct, but I do it because I won’t allow a repeat of what happened to my old partner back in the last house I worked.
“There a reason you keep asking Gonzalez to drop by Mason Street?”
Christ, and here I thought the little shit was trustworthy.
“Just trying to keep an eye on my sister-in-law’s friend. She’s new in town and living too far out for comfort. If it’s a problem, I’ll just do it myself.”
Yeah right. I’ll have that shit Gonzalez pulling shift all week for this and we all know it.
“I heard you’re going up to DC next week.”
Ah, so we finally get to the point.
“Yeah, my brother’s re-upping and he wants me there in case he deploys immediately.”
Not really, but that’s the whole point of spreading the story. With them trying to keep an eye on me in DC and trying to find me, I can move some things around and get the taps and video feeds up and running.
It’s one thing to police your fellow cops and sniff out the rotten apples, but democracy being the shit it is, if I don’t lock the evidence down tight I may as well not even be doing this.
One mistake and they’ll all walk. That’s not happening. Not on my watch.
“Look, Lane, it’s no secret that we don’t get along, but we’re all a team here, and I’d like for you to be one of us. You’re new, you’re a hotshot, and you get the job done—”
“I have no interest in being the new shiny toy for your department. I’m here to do my job and put criminals behind bars, that’s it. You want a new best buddy, go look under another rock.”
It’s not like I’m lying or anything. I am here to catch criminals. Unfortunately, it looks like the criminals are the very men who are supposed to be protecting people.
Part of me had hoped this would be the one time I’d come up empty-handed. I sort of like this place and would like to settle in closer to home. But hey, you can’t have everything you want, can you?
“You’re an asshole, Lane. You won’t get far here with that attitude.”
“Tell me something I don’t already know. We done here or what? I have a job to do.”
“Jesus, get the hell out of here, and stop using Gonzalez to watch your people.”
As if that’s happening. Gonzalez is the one exception I’ve found in this place, and using him to keep an eye on Clara is killing two birds with one stone. I get to know my…the woman is okay, and it keeps the kid out of the shadier side of this place.
I spend the rest of the day playing detective while still handling a caseload that only seems to be piling up higher by the minute. Thank God for my cousin Roman and his skills or we’d be buried beneath a pile of detritus while these bastards keep me too busy to complete the real job.
“That ass still riding you about not being more social?” Roman asks as we leave the station and hit his SUV.
He’s a good cop and not too blinded by loyalty. That’s why I landed here instead of getting one of the bigger jobs this time around. He’d called a few months back with a suspicion that his new precinct was rotten, and my superiors had okayed this op since I had family ties here and a good reason for a “transfer” from farther north.
Roman wants this move to work out for him so he can stay closer to Ma and Dad and his own father, but that’s just not possible if the whole barrel is bad.
So here I am, on a case after almost a year of digging, and the two of us are trying to gather evidence on the drug-smuggling dirty cops in this place.
Some days, like today, I really hate my job and wish I’d never thought of becoming the man who turned on his own. But after what happened to my old partner and the way that things have been going down inside my own family lately, I know that I’m exactly where I need to be.
The thing is, though, that I’m not exactly who I keep telling people I am. For one, I’m still letting my own mother think that I work as some suit in Wyatt’s company, and the rest of them who are “in the know” still think I’m a cop.
I’m really a part of a black ops unit that has been trying to unearth homegrown terrorists. That’s how I got into police work in the first place, as a plant, and now four years later I’m still trying to weed out corruption while simultaneously following leads for my other unit.
Right now I’m digging into this place because if Jace’s intel to my superiors is correct, then the drug running around here is funding a little group of extremists who are intent on ridding our city of anyone thy deem unfit to reside in America.
They’re all crazy, but hey, my job is my job.
I’m an agent who’s not really an agent who just so happens to actually be part of an operation that is so off the books, the only people who know about me are my handlers and the freaking president, himself.
“You heard anything back from Spiro?” I ask, watching the scenery flash by as he drives us towards a new crime scene and yet another case to fill my desk.
“Not yet, bro. But he’ll call me. I know he will after I let it slip that I’m short on cash. These boys can’t help themselves and they’ve been trying to approach me for months now. I’ll be part of this little backwater militia soon enough.”
“I don’t like this, Roman. I don’t trust Dobson or Spiro, and if they even suspect that you’re a rat, they’ll put a bullet in you.”
“Like I’d let them. Look, we’re not getting anywhere here, despite spending the last several months watching these bastards. We need hard evidence, Miah, not supposition and the suspicion that they’re funding their own group of misfits. I’ll get in and start poking around and then we’ll get what we need. And then maybe you can stop being such a dick and finally ask Clara out or something,” he quips, twisting his mouth at me.
“You too? What is this, matchmakers of America?” I snarl, wanting nothing more than to tell them all to go to hell and butt out of my business.
“Miah, we all know that you’re digging Miss Clara Elms, dude, so stop trying to deny shit and just give her a chance. You’re IA, not a freaking spook. You’re entitled to a private life like everyone else, man.”
“Yeah, okay, I’ll think about it and get back to you. Now let’s talk about what we’re going to do about that other thing.”
Roman’s face goes hard.
“Things stay just as they are, Miah. I don’t want the
family knowing what we’ve done, man, and to be honest, I’m not all that excited about explaining shit to your pop if it can be avoided.”
“True. Fine, so things stay just as they are, but do you think that’s possible? Jace called this morning and gave me some really iffy info. Seems the Conrads and the other Lanes aren’t too happy about the way things went down with Bolton and Lynn.”
“Too bad, because that’s over and done with as far as everyone else is concerned, and that’s the way it’s staying. Tell Jace and Jared to keep an eye on Veronica and Loraine. Those two were running in Bolton’s circles.”
“Will do.”
“Now that that’s out of the way…tell me how you’re planning to stay away from Clara if you’re staying in town for an extended period.”
He’s laughing at my grumbles and the unspoken acknowledgement that if I don’t settle things soon, the chances of resisting my need for Clara are pretty slim.
I’m even more attracted to her now than I was before.
Chapter Three
Clara
My phone buzzes for the tenth time in an hour and I’m about ready to scream by the time the last bell rings and my pupils go charging out, leaving me alone, exhausted, and annoyed.
I know who it is and that just makes the incessant calls all the worse, because I know that Nick won’t stop calling until I answer. Even worse, he’ll come down here to see me.
I can’t have that. I don’t want to see him, and I don’t want to hear a word he has to say. I’m also afraid that if I talk to Nick or see him, I’ll give up and go back to him.
My life, the bright and shiny new adventure I’d envisioned, is just not what I thought it would be. That’s saying a lot since all I really wanted was a few friends and the chance to meet a guy or two, nothing wild or unattainable, just…companionship.
Instead, I get to live in a tiny little house that my salary only just covers, with utilities and food being so expensive, and my nights are filled with either TV or a bartender who’d just as soon not talk to me.
Yeah, great life I’m living now.
With the school day over and my schedule free, I get home on time to do a load of laundry before there’s a knock at the door.
“Hello?”
“I got a package here for a Miss Clara Elms.”
“Really?” I ask, opening the door to find a delivery man standing there with a box large enough that he’s struggling to balance it and his clipboard.
“Sign here.”
As soon as I finish writing my signature, he shoves the box my way and leaves while I drag my parcel inside and stand staring at it in confusion.
My phone chirps again. I answer it with a growl and not a small amount of trepidation.
“You sent me a package?”
“Clara, I’ve been trying to reach you all day,” Nick says harshly, not even bothering with a greeting or a kind tone to start things off.
Why I’d expect anything else is ludicrous, and yet I feel better for it. Just another good reminder of why I left in the first place.
“How did you find me?”
Not that I expected less, but I’m curious since I’d gone to so much trouble to cut all ties.
“I called Mary.”
My mother, of course.
“What do you want, Nick?”
I hear a sigh and the rustle of papers before he answers, letting me know that he’s still at work and managing things while trying to get at me. Same old Nick, always fitting me into his life instead of shaping the other stuff in his life around me, like I had to do with him.
“You know what I want, Clara. Don’t play dumb, honey. You’ve made your point and I understand what you were saying before you left. We’ll change together and finally start that family you wanted.”
“The family I wanted? You never listen, Nick, and that’s the problem! I told you I don’t want kids for at least another two or three years, and I meant it. You want kids now. You want that big house in the good part of town. You want everything perfect and fitting into your ideas of what a good marriage should be. I don’t want any of that,” I hiss, rolling my eyes heavenwards.
Seriously? This is what he’s going to do again after the major fight that convinced me that he is capable of a lot more violence than I gave him credit for.
I want to be with someone who thinks that being with me is enough without all the trimmings and a houseful of kids. I want a man to be satisfied with just me for however long it takes me to be ready for the white picket fence and the junior soccer matches.
I may never want kids in spite of Nick, who once told me how unnatural that is.
“You’re just scared, Clara.”
“No, I am not. I told you how I felt about bringing children into the equation when we couldn’t even agree about the color of the freaking living room. I don’t want marriage and a family right now. I want to build my career—”
“Career? You teach second grade, for God’s sake, and make less than some cleaners earn. What kind of career is that?” he yells, finally losing his patience.
“It’s the one I want and that won’t change now or even ten years from now. Like I told you, we’re not compatible.”
I’m sure, now, that I’d never willingly go back to him.
“Clara.”
“What’s in the package, Nick?” I cut in, not willing to listen to another word.
“I bought you a new wardrobe and some better shoes—”
“I’m sending it back. I can’t wear designer clothes to work, and I don’t freaking want to! You’re not my boyfriend anymore, so stop buying me stuff!”
I disconnect the call to the sounds of him yelling and possibly cursing me out. Looks like I’ll have to move soon on top of spending a ridiculous amount of cash I can’t afford to send his attempts at controlling me back to him.
Miah would be different.
Jude once told me that she and George raised their sons, along with Roman and Jace, to understand that men were only as strong as they allowed their women to be.
I like that, because what they got out of it was five men who are well rounded and have a healthy respect for females. George and Wyatt may coddle Jude and Ellie to an uncomfortable degree, but they’re not averse to letting their wives do what makes them happy. Even if it means they’re doing something they don’t like.
Take Jude, for example. George hates the fact that she drives in the rain and won’t let him fill her gas tank, and yet she does it regularly, sometimes with him in the car.
Now that is a marriage, an equal partnership that I’d dreamed of when I first met Nick, and he fooled me into believing that he was this modern, easygoing guy.
“Clari! Open up, girl!”
I’m so lost in thought that the pounding on my door and the sound of Ellie’s voice startles me.
“Ellie? My God, woman, did you drive here all by yourself?” I ask when she bustles in, loaded down with shopping bags and her burgeoning belly.
“Of course. Here, take these, I need to get to the bathroom before I disgrace myself.”
She waddles into the kitchen a few minutes later as I’m unpacking the mountain of junk food and taking it all in with dread. Ellie is great and I usually love being around the girl, but ever since she married Wyatt, she’s been stuffing her face with all manner of junk and she expects me to follow suit.
I’m not complaining since I enjoy a good tub of Rocky Road and chocolate, but she takes this stuff to a whole other level.
“Now then, ahh, that’s better,” she moans, lowering herself into a chair at the table and kicking off her flats. “You didn’t call.”
“Sorry. I kind of got sidetracked by Nick and his stuff again,” I groan, pulling my hand back in the nick of time when she lunges for the ice cream and chocolate sauce.
“Nick called? How? I thought you changed your number when you left.”
“I did. Twice. But he keeps ferreting it out, and no, I’m not impressed, either, s
ince he’s taken his stalking to a whole new level and sent me clothes this afternoon,” I huff, taking a scoop from her ice cream.
Eating with the rabid wolverine is a chance I take at my own peril, but this conversation definitely requires a sugar coma and the endorphins that come along with it.
“What! Crap, Clari, the man is getting worse. He knows where you live?”
“Apparently. He called to let me know that he wants me to wear the clothes. Oh, and get this, he still thinks I’m coming home.”
The ice cream helps now that I’m not as afraid or angry as I was before Ellie arrived.
“You need to be careful, Clari, this does not sound normal.”
No, but it’s not exactly what Ellie went through with her stalker, and we both know it. While I appreciate her concern, I’m conscious of the fact that to Ellie, it’s never going to seem anything less than a DEFCON situation when a man shows a little too much interest.
“It’ll be fine, El. He’s just annoyed that I haven’t run back to him with my tail tucked between my legs. He should really know better, though, because after growing up with Mary in that trailer, even my humble little cottage is a palace.”
It’s not exactly the huge, pristine house Nick bought for us, but it’s enough for me and definitely a step up from my childhood home.
“God, remember when we went to visit your mom that one year?”
As if I could forget. The trailer looked like hell and she’d confessed that the last time it was cleaned was when I was still living at home. We’d eaten takeout I couldn’t afford but was forced to buy when the cupboards yielded only an expired can of bean soup, bread hard as a brick, and the refrigerator actually echoed when I pulled it open because it was so bare.
“Yup. She’s doing better now after Nick started sending her checks, but I can’t see her all of a sudden turning into Martha Stewart and cleaning things up.”
Ellie huffs and starts eating in silence—a sure sign that she’s been making small talk and has more than just Nick and Mom on the brain. I already know what she’s come here to say, and while I love her for trying to include me in her family, I’m not happy about it, either.
Miah (Lane Brothers #2) Page 2
