by Kim Linwood
I don’t speak Italian, so I can’t say for certain what went down yesterday, but I’m not an idiot. It wasn’t a casual meeting with a concerned citizen.
As much as I dislike Captain Palmieri, I don’t know who else to go to about the alderman’s odd behavior. Except if Trabucco isn’t crazy, Palmieri might be part of the whole mess too. My father would freak out—not that I blame him—so that’s not an option either.
The doorbell rings. Great. Misery might love company, but that doesn’t mean it likes it dropping by unexpectedly.
I stretch to peep through the spyhole, getting an unexpected close-up of an ex-SEAL. Even as I debate whether I should let him in or not, he rings the doorbell again.
Speaking of complicated situations…
I suppose he’s technically my boyfriend? We haven’t exactly had the “what is this?’ talk. He checks all the boyfriend boxes, though. Been out multiple times, check. Does X-rated things to my libido, check. Numbers in each other’s phones, check.
Strangely intense and a little bit scary.
Check?
Drawing a deep breath, then letting it go slowly, I open the door.
He’s leaning on the door frame, waiting for me. “About time. You’ve been up since nine, and I already heard you shower.”
“Uh… stalk much?” I step aside to let him in. “Next time lead with something like ‘Good morning’.”
“I don’t stalk. I’m observant,” he says with a dismissive snort. “Plus, as you’ve mentioned—quite angrily in the other direction I might add—the construction in this building is less than soundproof.” He gives me his best “I’m perfectly innocent” grin, but an innocent lion is still a lion.
That it turns me on must make me a really stupid gazelle.
As soon as the door is closed behind us, I find myself in his arms, pressed against the wall with his firm lips covering mine. I clutch his shoulders in surprise, but let myself enjoy a quick play of tongues before pulling back.
“Whoa there, cowboy.” I hook a leg around his thigh and wrap my fingers lightly in his thick hair.
“Sailor.”
“Excuse me?”
“Sailor, not cowboy.”
Payne takes my hand and guides it down his chest to where I know his tattoo lies hidden under a lightweight sweater. He kisses me again, gentler this time but no less commanding. His mouth is soft and burning hot. I know I’m short, but keeping in shape for work means I’m much heavier than I look, and holding me up doesn’t seem to take him any effort at all.
One of his hands glides down to cup my ass, and the hard length of a quickly growing erection presses teasingly against me. I sigh and lean my head against his shoulder, placing a soft kiss on the side of his powerful neck. He smells like nothing but clean skin and himself, I find it sexier than any aftershave.
“Do you always wear these pants?”
“Always? No.” Most of the time? Yes. “Yoga pants are perfectly acceptable loungewear.”
“You do yoga?”
“Sometimes.” Look, I stretch at the gym. That counts.
“Can I watch?” Payne whispers suggestively in my ear.
I laugh and slap his chest. “Perv.”
I try to wiggle my way back down to the ground, but I’m no match for his grip. Not that wiggling against the sizeable bulge between his legs is exactly encouraging either of us to let go. I let myself enjoy the feeling for a moment before getting serious.
“Okay, you can let me down now. If we keep this up we’re going to end up in bed.”
He arches an eyebrow and grins. “And this is a problem because…? “
A slow roll of his hips scrambles my brain. Why was it a problem?
My phone starts buzzing, rattling and dancing on the kitchen counter. Flushed and a little confused, I push out of Payne’s arms to check the display. It’s Dad.
Of course it is.
Payne walks up behind me and leans in to nibble at my neck. “Call them back. We’ll be done by Monday. Tuesday at the latest.”
“Ha ha,” I mock weakly, feeling more tempted than I should. “It’s my father. I have to take it.”
I step around the tiny breakfast counter that separates my kitchen from the living room, taking the phone with me. Standing so close to Payne makes it hard to think. He smiles, like he knows exactly what I’m doing, and why.
“Stay!” I point to where he’s standing.
Payne raises his hands and pulls out a stool. “Yes, ma’am, but only because I know I’ll be giving the orders later.”
“You wish,” I sputter.
“I know,” he says with a confident smile. “Just like I know you’re going to love taking them.”
“You…” I’m not sure if I want to strangle him, or find out if he’s right, so I hit the answer button to avoid where this conversation is going. “Hi, Dad.”
“Hey, Pumpkin. Are you busy? Your mom told me to call and ask you to bring the salad bowl she left at your place.”
Payne starts flipping through my mail and stops when he comes to a Victoria's Secret catalogue. He grins huge and starts browsing.
“Put that down,” I hiss softly.
“What was that?” Dad asks.
“Sorry, I wasn’t talking to you. My neighbor dropped by and—”
“Maria? Tell her I say hello.”
“No, um, the new neighbor.”
Payne points to a nightie that looks like it would strangle you if you actually tried to sleep in it, and gives me a big thumbs up. I try to grab it from his hands, but he stands up and backs away with a shit-eating grin.
I move around the counter and make another grab, but he twists away, instead wrapping an arm around me and pulling my back against his chest.
“The one from the accident?” Dad suddenly sounds way too interested.
“Yeah, that’s the one.” It’s really hard to concentrate on talking to my father with Payne pressed against me. “He just came by to… actually I’m not sure. He showed up right before you called.”
“Put him on, will you? I’d like to thank him again for what he did.”
More like grill him for details about what he’s doing in his daughter’s apartment. “Sure, no problem.” I look up at Payne, who shakes his head. “He’s right here.” I push the phone at him and snag the magazine.
Payne takes it, green eyes glaring at me accusingly. “Good morning, sir.”
Feeling naughty, I step in close, and slide my hands into the back pockets of his jeans. He stiffens as my fingers brush against a hard metal object that feels like a knife. Does he think that bothers me? I’d be more surprised if an ex-SEAL didn’t have some sort of defense on him. I give his ass a good grope and he relaxes.
“Payne, sir, and it was my pleasure.” He pauses. “I don’t know, I’d have to ask Nora, but I’m free this afternoon so I don’t see why it would be a problem.”
I shake my head and mouth, “No!”
He hands me back the phone.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Pumpkin! You don’t mind bringing your new friend today, do you? You know how much we love meeting the people in your life. It’s been ages since… what was his name… Timmy?”
“Tom, Dad. His name was Tom.” Something my father knows perfectly well since he ran a background check on him and scared the poor accountant away. At this point there is no getting out of an afternoon of Payne-ful family bonding, so I grin and bear it. “We’ll be there, and tell Mom I’ll bring the bowl.”
“Good! Good. Looking forward to it. See you soon, sweetie.”
I hang up and smile at Payne. “You have no idea what you just signed yourself up for, do you?”
“What? Lasagna?” A look of uncertainty flashes across the rugged face of a man who has probably seen more than his share of brutal action.
“No, my father.”
16
Payne
“Is their exit on the right or the left?”
Nora’s blunt little fi
ngernails ping against the glass bowl in her lap. “I told you to let me drive.”
Like that was going to happen. “I think it’s best we forget you suggested taking your car.”
“Well… I could always drive yours.”
I throw my head back and laugh.
“Hey! I can handle a stick.”
“Remind me to take you up on that later.” I reach over and give her thigh a pat. “But in case you meant my car, I give you permission in case your father shoots me and we need to run, but otherwise, keep dreaming.” I pause to analyze the possibilities. “Obviously, I mean somewhere vital… or inconvenient, like my knee. If it’s just a flesh wound, I’m still driving.”
“Obviously.” She huffs in annoyance. “Left.”
Ministry’s Jesus Built My Hotrod blares from the speakers, and I lean back to enjoy the ride. Traffic’s light, so I can let my baby run for a change. Would’ve been even better if Nora had let me convince her to bring police dashboard lights, but I’ll take what I can get after a week of city driving.
Out of the corner of my eye, I keep an eye on my passenger. Her wavy, brown hair is down, bouncing lightly over her shoulders. Until today, all I’ve really seen her in was her uniform or kicking around the house clothes.
Don’t get me wrong. She can wear yoga pants 24/7 as far as I’m concerned, but the skirt she’s wearing hugs her hips like a glove, and the sexy legs it shows off look like they could ride me all night long.
I like the way she looks in my car. Not flashy, just comfortable. Nothing about her strikes me as underhanded or corrupt. So what the hell was she doing with the alderman yesterday?
And what the hell am I doing heading to Sunday dinner with her family?
My life has taken a seriously fucked up turn this past week, and coming from someone whose to-do list includes putting a hole in the skull of her boss, that’s saying something.
Time to fish for information. “So, your father. He’s a cop too?”
She reaches over and turns down my music. My fingers twitch, but I don’t move it back. “He was, but I should probably warn you, he got shot a few years ago and had to leave the force. He’s in a wheelchair now.”
“Fuck, grounded for life?”
“Yeah,” she whispers, focusing out the window.
“But he’s got you and your mom at least. That helps. Going through it alone can fuck a guy up.”
Nora looks over at me, big brown eyes wide. “I never thought… You really were a SEAL, right?”
I give a curt nod. It’s not that I’m not proud of that part of my life, it’s that I can’t talk about most of it, and the parts I can don’t always make for very polite conversation.
“I figured,” she says it like I’m not telling her anything she doesn’t already know. “Were you ever shot?”
“Twice. Not bad though,” I add quickly, seeing the look of horror on her face.
“Flesh wounds,” Nora says with a dry laugh.
“Exactly. But—” I don’t know why I’m in a sharing mood, maybe because in a small way, she might get it. “But I’ve known a few who weren’t as lucky. All of them get pissed at the universe for a while, but the ones with family are the ones who get over it.” Mostly. No point in mentioning the ones who never adjust. She doesn’t need to hear that.
She licks her lips and takes a deep breath. “I never know what to say to him. He hates what I do. My job is like this chasm between us and we just shout back and forth until our throats go raw.”
“Maybe he doesn’t hate what you do. Maybe he hates that he can’t do it. He’s still your dad, he just… sits a lot. That’s got to piss a guy off.”
She sucks in a little shocked breath. Fuck. Wrong thing to say. This is why I don’t do the whole people thing.
That, and because when they piss me off, I have a hard time not cataloging the ways in which I could make them disappear. I plaster a harmless smile on my face and look over at Nora. For some idiotic reason, it’s important that she isn’t afraid of me.
Do you see this smile? I don’t want to hurt you.
Please don’t do anything that makes me hurt you.
She takes one look at me, and even though I can see a shine of tears in her eyes, she bursts out laughing. “He just sits a lot.” Nora chuckles, shaking her head. “I think Dad’s going to like you. Shit, there isn’t going to be nearly enough wine for me to deal with that.”
I keep my mouth shut and drive, turning the music back up.
Nora's parents' house is two stories, a mix of wood and faux brick with a glassed-in front porch and entry. The driveway leads straight into a two-car garage, and the back yard is fenced in, probably for a dog.
It's sweet. Very… normal. After all the hype, I was expecting some sort of compound. Maybe a little razor wire.
As soon as she rings the doorbell, the other side of the door explodes in barking. Claws slide on polished floors as something large comes barreling towards it with a booming woof. A huge shadowy form lurks on the other side of the frosted glass window next to their front door.
She turns to me. “Oh, you're not allergic or anything, are you?”
“To bears? Not that I know of. But just in case whatever that is hasn’t eaten recently, you can go in first.”
“Oh, don’t be such a wuss. He's more teddy than grizzly.” She smiles, while eager claws scrape the inside of the door.
“I’m not a wuss. I’m cautious.”
“Just calling it like I see it, wuss.”
Human footsteps follow, and then the door opens. “You stay put,” a woman orders the beast. She looks like an older, softer Nora. “Come on in.”
Her hand is wrapped around the collar of an abominable snow dog, but at the sight of Nora, it lunges free and wraps its giant fluffy body around my pocket cop, nearly bowling her over.
“Junior!” She cuddles his head, scratching roughly behind his ear. He licks her like he's going to devour her, while his big shaggy tail works overtime. “Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy, huh?”
I blink at the sight and turn to Nora’s mother. “What is that?”
“Great Pyrenees we think. Mostly at least. He’ll calm down once he gets a snuggle.” She holds out her hand and smiles sweetly. “Aurora Keaton, welcome to the mad house.”
“Payne Carter.” I put on my winningest smile and we shake hands while Nora coos at her monster dog. I indicate them with my head. “They seem close.”
“Oh, they are. Junior was just a little puppy when my husband brought him home from a raid. He's technically Harry’s dog, but we all know Nora’s his favorite. When she shows up, the big clown forgets he isn’t that little puppy anymore.” She looks at the two of them with obvious affection.
Junior finally drops back down to all fours, though Nora keeps on patting his flanks. “I missed you, fluffmeister.”
Then he starts nosing at me.
“Uh oh, Payne.” Nora grins. “Stand very still or you might end up dog chow. It wouldn’t be the first time. Welcome to stage one of the Keaton gauntlet.”
I crouch, and if I was any smaller, I'd be looking up at him. “Hey buddy. You're not going to eat me, are you?” I put my hand out, letting him get my scent. “Because I think your mistress here might get annoyed if I turned you into a rug, and nothing personal, but white fur is a little tacky.”
Nora gasps in mock outrage, but her mother just laughs.
He eyes me, one alpha to another, and lets out a kibble scented huff in my face before he turns his back on me, preferring Nora’s welcoming hands.
Nora giggles, fucking giggles. “I think you’ve been granted a temporary reprieve.”
“I think that’ll last about as long as you keep smiling at me. He knows we have a friend in common.”
A light flush spreads over Nora’s cheeks.
Her mother takes the bowl I’m holding and pats my arm. “The food is almost ready. I’ll go check to make sure nothing’s on fire while Nora shows you around. Nice to meet
you, Payne.”
“You too, Mrs. Keaton. Thank you for having me on such short notice.”
“Oooh, I like him. Handsome and polite.” She winks at Nora, whose blush grows a shade deeper.
We take off our coats and boots, and Nora leads me deeper into the house, Junior padding at her heels. It's a nice place. Neat, organized. There’s plenty of room between things and the floor is clear. I’m guessing because of the wheelchair. I spot a picture of a big, burly man in a full dress uniform on a table. He looks serious, the kind of person who knows what he’s doing and takes no shit.
At the back of the house is a large living room, brightly lit and with big windows that open into the back yard. Along one wall is a dining table with room for six, though one of the end chairs is missing. Next to it is the man from the picture, dressed casually, sitting down but still not going to take any shit. At least from me. His expression softens a touch when he looks at Nora.
I approach, holding my hand out. “Mr. Keaton. It's nice to finally meet you. Nora's told me all sorts of things about you. Payne Carter.”
He takes my hand, and assesses me closely. “Police?” He cocks his head. “Or military?” His grip is rock solid.
“Military, sir. Lieutenant Payne Carter, US Navy. Up until four year ago, at least.”
Nora eyes me when I say it. What, she didn't think I could make rank?
Mr. Keaton nods and releases my hand. “Call me Harry. Nice to meet you, son.”
I wince a little at the “son”, but I’m in his house, with his daughter, about to eat his food. If he wants to remind me who’s top dog here, I’ll give it to him.
Nora and I help Aurora bring the food to the table. I must’ve been on my own for too long, because the sight of an entire spread of home cooked food has my mouth watering. There’s lasagna, and Parmesan, salad, breadsticks and antipasto.
“Don’t get your hopes up,” Nora says as my eyes take in the feast. “The cooking gene skips generations.”
I pull out the chairs for the ladies, earning me feminine smiles and a grudging head bob from Harry. “That’s fine, they say you marry the family, not just the person, right?”
