Center Mass

by Lani Lynn Vale

  His eyes narrowed. “We’ll see.”

  I sighed and looked around the living room.

  It was horrible.

  Everything that I’d worked so hard to acquire over the past ten years was now gone.

  My recliner that I rocked Rowen in when she was a baby through many colic filled nights, was ripped to shreds.

  The TV I’d bought brand new just last year smashed to smithereens on the floor.

  My pictures. My clothes. My food.

  Everything, ruined.

  Anything that wasn’t nailed down, was literally in pieces if it could be in pieces.

  The only thing that I’d found so far that was still in working order was the shower curtain in the bathroom.

  Which was sad because it was literally the only thing in the entire place that I could afford to replace.

  “I just spent my entire savings paying off my school loans, and buying new furniture. Now it’s gone. Every single bit of it, and I have nothing to replace it with,” I whimpered.

  I didn’t realize I could become so attached to inanimate objects. However, now that they were gone, I realized what they’d meant to me.

  What hurt the most, though, were the baby clothes I’d been saving. The ones of Rowen’s that had meant so much to me, just…gone.

  That was the straw that broke the camel’s back, so to speak.

  Covering my eyes with my hands, I started to cry.

  Big, fat, ugly tears.

  Luke’s muscular arms wrapped me up tight, surrounding me so completely, that some of the coldness at seeing the horror of what was done to my place leeched away.

  “It’ll be okay, beautiful. Now, you can stay with me until your place is back up to par, and cook me breakfast in bed. Iron my socks. And fish bullets out of the washing machine,” he teased.

  A watery laugh escaped my lips, and I tipped my head up to stare into his impossibly blue eyes. “I’ll fish bullets out of the washing machine, and possibly cook you breakfast, but only if you’re a good boy.”

  He smiled devilishly. “I can be a good boy.”

  His good boy act didn’t faze me in the least. I was immune to bullshit, which was what had come out of his mouth. “Yeah, right.”

  He grinned. “Now, let’s lock this place up and go meet my parents.”

  “Your parents?” I screeched.

  He nodded. “Yeah, they’re very interested in the girl I fucked over to bring my ex to Thanksgiving, whom, I might add, invited herself after it was all said and done. And you don’t have to tell me how stupid I was not to bring you, because I already know. In fact, I started kicking my own ass about an hour before my parents showed. Which, if you’d had your phone on, you would’ve known.”

  I shrugged. Honestly, it was probably better that I hadn’t been there. I didn’t want to be anybody’s pity dinner date.

  I wanted to be first choice and there was nothing wrong with that.

  “So where are we meeting your parents?”

  ***

  “I cannot believe your mom’s shopping in this shit,” I said, looking in horror at the mall parking lot.

  “Mom and Baylee do it every year. I’ve been picking them up and chauffeuring them around for years now,” he said, scanning the parking lot.

  “In your cruiser?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Yeah. Or my dad’s.”

  I blinked.

  “Isn’t that illegal?” I wondered.

  My eyes widened as I saw a fight break out in the middle of the parking lot.

  His muttered, “No,” was drowned out by the yelling and screaming of the six women or so that were about to throw down right in front of our car.

  “Aren’t you going to break that up?” I asked.

  His eyes flicked to the fight, then back to the doors. “No.”

  “But you’re a cop. Aren’t you supposed to, you know, serve and protect?” I asked dryly.

  His grin played at the corners of his mouth, and he shook his head. “This mall has security. I’ll let the rent-a-cops do their job. That’s what they’re paid to do, after all.”

  Spying something, he started the truck and flashed his lights four times at, who I assumed was, his mother.

  However, I couldn’t tell, because all it did was illuminate the fight in front of me.

  “That girl just tore out a chunk of the other girl’s hair,” I observed.

  He didn’t look away, instead focusing on something beyond the fight that I couldn’t see.

  “If they pull a gun, I’ll intervene,” he muttered.

  I shook my head. The man was unshakable.

  “I can’t believe they’re doing this in front of a police car,” I shook my head in surprise.

  He gave me a sideways glance. “Some people don’t give a shit about a black and white. All it means to them is help when they need it. Nothing else.”

  With that lovely parting comment, he got out and slammed the door, walking around to my side before opening the SUV’s back door and ushering Baylee, and an older version of Baylee into the back seat.

  “I hope you cleaned this seat before you made us get into it,” Baylee muttered, sounding disgusted.

  “It looks pretty clean,” Paige, Luke’s mother, said.

  “Yeah, that’s what you’d think if you saw it at first glance. I’ve been there when they start putting the naked bodies into the car. Then they vomit everywhere. Or shit. Or piss. Or…” Baylee was interrupted by her mother’s outraged cry.

  “This better not have any of what I think she was about to say on it!” Paige declared.

  Luke grinned and closed the door.

  I stayed facing forward, awkwardly.

  Then their eyes turned to watch me as he made his way around the car.

  “So,” Baylee said. “On a scale of one to ten, one being minutely and ten being I’m gonna shove a boot up his ass, how angry are you with my brother?”

  I grinned and turned sideways into my seat, talking to her through the grate. “Probably about a seven. But he knows how to sweet talk his way out of anything.”

  Paige grinned. “The boy’s just like his father, that way. His daddy had a silver tongue when I met him, and not a thing has changed in the last thirty two years.”

  Then a commotion towards the front of our car brought our attention back to the hair pulling match that’d continued while we were speaking.

  That’s where we found Luke talking to the ladies.

  Although I couldn’t hear what he was saying, I knew it wasn’t nice.

  “What do you think he’s saying?” Paige asked

  I turned to look at her, only to find her staring straight at me, startling me.

  “Probably that one girl’s hair is fake, and she needs to pull her shorts out of her vagina,” Baylee quipped.

  Of course, my eyes couldn’t help themselves. I had to look.

  And the girl did, indeed, need to pull her shorts out of her vagina.

  “I’m fairly positive that those words would never come out of your brother’s mouth,” I assured her.

  Baylee laughed. “Oh, my dear, what you have to learn.”

  And for some reason, I believed her.

  ***

  “I’m not a fan of pumpkin pie,” I said, eyeing the plate with disgust.

  Luke stared at me like I’d grown a fourth head. “What?”

  “It reminds me of snot and baby food,” I made a gagging gesture.

  He looked at me for a few long moments before shaking his head and devouring the piece he brought to me. In two large gulps, he finished it off and washed it down with a gulp of beer.

  “Pumpkin’s my Luke’s favorite. You’ll have to learn to make it if you plan on cooking for him. He’s got one hell of a sweet tooth,” Paige said, smiling fondly at her son.

  The disgusting man.

  I was fairly sure he’d have to brush his teeth before I could stand to be next to him again.

  Hell, who was I kidding? All I had t
o do was look at the man and any and all disgust would melt away.

  “Where did your parents end up getting stuck?” Luke’s father, Travis, asked.

  I turned to him and smiled.

  I liked Travis.

  He was a large man, much the same as Luke. Except where Luke had only tightness at his midsection, Travis had the smallest of guts. His hair was also no longer blonde, but a silvery gray that made him look incredibly sexy.

  A loud screech echoed through the room and Luke’s head snapped around to take in the little black box on the counter across the room from us.

  He sighed and stood, walking straight over to the little black box and picked it up. He read quickly then clipped the device on his belt before walking towards us.

  He kissed his mom on the cheek first, ruffled Baylee’s hair, and gave me a soft kiss on the lips.

  “I’ve got to go. Be back when I can,” he whispered against my hair.

  Then, without further ado, he disappeared out the door.

  I saw him running across the house, then he jumped into his police cruiser, flipped the lights on, and barreled down the road.

  “Was that a pager?” I asked into the stillness of his wake.

  Chapter 16

  So you’re a police officer? Do you do anything with that baton besides hit people with it?

  -Reese to Luke

  Luke

  “What’s going on?” I asked as I walked into what we called the command room.

  Really it was just a room off the side of my office that had two computers and two televisions lining one wall. As well as a large U shaped desk allowing for the other members of SWAT to sit down and see the computers in the middle of the room.

  In the center of it all was John Atoms, our information specialist and director of all things that took more brain than brawn. In fact, he was borderline genius according to his IQ test.

  He’d been a hacker in his teenage years, but had chosen to be on the law’s side when his little sister had been shot down in front of him when he was seventeen.

  I trusted the man with everything.

  “A shooter at a residence on Templeton. Neighbors called when they heard what sounded like a tommy gun going off at the neighbor’s place. Said it sounded fake, and they’d thought at first it was their kids outside playing. When they realized it wasn’t, they found the front door of the neighbor’s place covered with bullet holes,” John said, keeping his eyes on the computer. “They called the police when a few more shots came from inside the house. Only person there that they know of is an elderly man.”

  My eyes went to the map up on the screen, and my gut twisted.

  That was the neighbor that’d called in the burglary at Reese’s place the night before.

  Knowing I wouldn’t accomplish anything by letting the panic setting loose inside my chest out, I tamped it down viciously and stared impassively at the monitors

  “There any cops on scene?” I asked, going into business mode.

  “Yes,” John hesitated. “They’re the ones that said that SWAT would be needed. Whoever’s in the house started shooting the moment Atlas Stoddard pulled up in his cruiser.”

  Atlas Stoddard was one of the oldest and most respected beat cops on the force. He was fifty one and could pass for thirty five, easily.

  I’d trust his opinion and instincts over nearly everyone on the force.

  While John had been speaking, the other members of the team started piling in. First James, then Downy. Followed by Nico, and Michael.

  Finally, bringing up the rear, was Bennett Alvarez, the newest member of the team.

  “Alright, boys. Here’s what we got,” I started, outlining what we were going to do. “Any questions?”

  They all shook their heads.

  “Good, let’s get moving,” I instructed.

  ***

  “Let’s move in,” I said. “Guru, you’re on standby.”

  John, or ‘Guru,’ had remained in our operations center back at the station.

  The boys called him Guru one night after an eight hour long bust, and the name had stuck. Although it was only ever used while we were performing a raid or a bust.

  John didn’t like to be called anything but John, although he tolerated it.

  Although he was a fully trained part of the team, he served us better there. The man was too good at what he did not to utilize those talents, like tapping into their home security system or webcams, with little to no effort.

  Which was what he’d done a few moments after we’d left, hacking into the old man’s security system, using the feeds that surrounded the house and inside living room, as a guide. He relayed the information to us over the last half hour, and with what he’d told us, we’d decided it was time to go in.

  Now or never.

  “10-4,” John said.

  “Let me know when you’re in position,” I said to Downy, Michael, and James.

  With a nod, they circled around the house, while Nico, Bennett and I went to the front.

  The door was feeble at best, and stood no chance as soon as I heard the quiet, “In place.”

  “Go.”

  The door gave with laughable ease when Nico placed his boot to it.

  A similar sound could be heard from the other end of the house, but our main focus was what was in front of us.

  Nico crouched, going down on one knee.

  My shotgun was raised, pointed straight inside over Nico’s shoulder.

  Bennett’s was mirroring mine from the other shoulder.

  Nothing stirred.

  With a hand sign to proceed, Nico started walking, crouched down low.

  We’d done this a lot. So much so, that we could almost anticipate the others movements before they ever even happened.

  The first room we came to was a dining room.

  The room, one that’d been so recently used for a family dinner, was now trashed.

  China was smashed. Bullets riddled the walls. The cabinet that held alcohol in the corner of the room was broken, the door hanging off the hinges.

  The table was cracked down the middle, the beautiful glass I’d seen yesterday now shattered.

  “Side room clear,” James’ voice called over the line.

  Barely a hint of a whisper, but the sound reassuring nonetheless.

  “Dining room clear,” I confirmed.

  “Kitchen clear,” Downy’s voice rumbled.

  My heart was pounding, as it always did.

  Adrenaline making my vision clearer; my hearing sharper. The solid weight of the shotgun in my hands, butt of the stock up against my cheek, allowing me to breathe easier.

  “Living room clear,” Michael confirmed.

  We were down to the two back bedrooms when the two teams met.

  A series of hand signals were flashed, and Downy took point on the first room, while I took point on the second.

  With a quick motion, I went in down low, sweeping the room with a quick, thorough glance.

  The room was empty except for exercise equipment.

  “Clear,” I said, feeling Nico at my back.

  We turned to follow up with Downy’s team when a deafening explosion shook the house.

  My vision became spotted, and my eyes felt too big for my head, but my gun stayed in place as I forced myself to move around the bend of the door.

  James, Downy, and Michael were picking themselves up off the floor.

  None of them had lost their weapons, either.

  With that said, though, the entire west bound wall was gone.

  “Clear,” James wheezed.

  I heard the choking laugh of someone behind me, but for some reason, my sense of humor just didn’t find it funny.

  I guess having my men nearly killed didn’t strike my funny bone like it did the others.

  “House is clear,” I said into my mic.

  The rest of the master bedroom was a complete loss, and the only thing that would help now was a crime scene crew.

>   ***

  “What…who do you think it was?” Detective Howell asked.

  I fucking hated Detective Pierson Howell. So much so, that I would rather let rats eat my eyeballs while I was alive than speak with the man.

  He was condescending, judgmental, and held a grudge because I got the assistant chief job when he’d been on the force for longer.

  He made sure I knew it, too.

  If we didn’t wind up being blamed for this, it’d be a fuckin’ miracle.

  “The place was empty. The master bedroom blew from, what we think was, a trip wire of some sort. Our entering that room was what set it off. However, after the sweep, we didn’t find anyone in there,” I said slowly, trying to rein in my temper.

  “I realize that you think there wasn’t anyone in there, but there was. The responding officer said there was,” Pierson said snidely.

  I crossed my arms over my chest, not having anything else to say on the matter.

  We’d done our jobs. There wasn’t anyone to save. That was the crux of it, and there wasn’t anything else we could’ve done aside from predicting the future.

  Pierson was a man on a mission. That mission being to have my spot.

  “Officer Downy, how about you tell us your interpretation of the events,” Pierson commanded.

  I stood, tired of this shit.

  “Listen, Pierson. It’s the day after the holiday, we’re all tired, and I’m ready to fucking go. You will see us first thing Monday morning. Until then, that’ll be all on the questions,” I informed him, standing up.

  All of my men stood as well, knowing that with my admission, the meeting wouldn’t proceed any further.

  Hell, I knew for certain that James, Downy, and Michael had to be hurting, yet they hadn’t complained once.

  Detective Pierson opened his mouth, but the chief raised his hand for silence. “That’s enough, Detective Howell. We’ll continue this Monday morning. Until then, y’all have a good weekend.”

  I nearly groaned in relief. I really, really didn’t want to get into it with Pierson.

  I wanted to go home and crawl into bed.

  We exited the precinct around twenty minutes later.

  “What was all that about?” Downy asked, a hand on his shoulder as he massaged it.