Cuffing Her: A Small Town Cop Romance

by Emily Bishop

  “Easy,” I said.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered. “What do I do?” Aurora halted mid-stride and sniffled. She pressed her face against my naked chest and sobbed. Wetness smeared against my skin, and my muscles tensed up.

  I’ll make whoever did this pay.

  “That was all I wanted,” she whispered, and I barely made out the words through the tears. Her entire frame shook, and her knees buckled.

  I caught her again, held her to my body. “It’s going to be OK.”

  “No,” she whimpered. “Nothing’s going to be OK.” The pressure of the week and everything that’d happened had finally broken, and she clung to me, desperate for support. Desperate for the comfort only I could provide.

  “Put your arm around my neck,” I said.

  She did it. A featherlight weight against my shoulders.

  “Hold on.” I bent and hooked my arm at the back of her knees then lifted her. I adjusted her weight in my arms and set off, walking fast now. The sooner we got back to the hotel, the sooner I could find out who’d done this.

  Aurora’s head rested against my collarbone, hair pressed flat, and more tears leaked from her, wetting my chest. I tightened my grip and ducked beneath low-lying branches, strode over roots, my footing sure despite the lack of light.

  The trip didn’t take long, five minutes max, and I hit the road and didn’t quit walking.

  Aurora didn’t speak or move much but held her body against mine, the light from one of the streetlamps caught her face and my heart wrenched, the anger redoubled. Her eyes were open, staring, seeing things I couldn’t fathom, and her skin was too pale. Tears continued to stream down her cheeks.

  “Almost there,” I said and broke into a trot down the road. My muscles ached a complaint, and I ignored it. Another five minutes and the hotel waxed into view, a tacky plastic crescent moon pasted to the front of the wooden sign which read: Moondance Motel.

  Luke’s Porsche was parked out front where it’d been when I’d left earlier in the evening. A solitary figure stood beside the entrance to the motel, a puff of smoke exhaled, and the orange pinprick of a coal in the darkness told me all I needed to know. Felicity was on one of her smoke breaks.

  She moved into the light and stared at our approach.

  “We’re here,” I said.

  Aurora nodded and continued staring into space. Christ, that filled me with more anger than I could handle. I’d always been the type to remain professional, to let the minor irritations slide by, but when enough pressure built up, I was bound to explode, and I’d just about reached that point.

  I trotted past my ex-fiancée and opened the motel’s glass front door with one hand, twisting my body to reach the handle.

  Felicity didn’t say a word, lucky for her.

  I slipped into the motel lobby and trotted past a wide-eyed Kevin, who half-rose out of his seat. “Is everything OK, Mr. Tombs? Do you need me to call the cops?”

  “No. Is the kitchen open?”

  “No, sir, it closed a half hour ago. The chef hasn’t left yet, though. What do you need?”

  “Food,” I replied. “And drinks. Surprise me.”

  “Yes, sir.” Kevin scooted out from behind the desk and rushed off, his stomach wobbling, a patch of wetness at the small of his back.

  I strode up the hall toward my room, dug the keys out of my pocket, unlocked the door, and carried her in, maneuvering so we fit through the door as one. I kicked it shut behind me then walked her over to the bed.

  “You didn’t have to do this,” she whispered.

  “Right,” I replied and set her down on the bed, gently. “No, you’re right. I should’ve left you there and let you sleep on the bench.”

  “Why are you angry?” Aurora asked, and her gaze cleared at last. She blinked up at me as if she hadn’t realized I was there until that moment.

  “Because someone’s fucking with you, and I won’t let it happen,” I replied.

  “It’s not your problem,” she said.

  “Of course it’s my damn problem.” I strode to the dresser and threw the doors open. I dragged out one of my cotton button-ups and slipped it on, didn’t bother closing it. “You’re mine, Aurora, whether you want to admit it or not. You’re mine, and I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  She struggled upward. “Yours?”

  “Yes,” I said and halted at the end of the bed. “You have a problem with that?”

  Aurora stared at me for a full minute, silent, her cheeks still wet from the tears she’d shed on the way over here. She shook her head once, left then right, and settled back. “No.”

  “Good. Now, let’s get to the bottom of this shit.” I whipped my cell out of my pocket and unlocked the screen.

  “Who are you going to call?”

  “Everyone. I’ll wake up the entirety of Moondance if I have to. I want to know who that agent is.”

  “Easy,” she said and sighed. “Just look it up online.”

  A knock at the door cut off my reply. I walked to it and wrenched it open.

  Kevin took a startled step backward and held out a covered tray as an offering. “Food, sir. Just like you asked.”

  “Thank you, Kevin,” I replied but didn’t soften my tone. I couldn’t with this much fury coursing through me. I took the tray from him, nodded, and shut the door. I’d have to tip him later.

  “What’s that?”

  “Food,” I said and walked it over to the bed. I placed the tray in front of her and whipped off the lid. Two burgers and a bunch of fries sat on the plate, alongside two Cokes. The best they could rustle up at a late hour and good enough. “Eat. You need sugar. Drink the Coke.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Drink the Coke, Aurora. You need the sugar.” I bent and kissed her forehead to soften the blow of my words then marched to the desk in the corner and leaned against it. I opened my browser and typed out the keywords: Moondance and real estate agents. A list of hits came up.

  The snap-tssk of a can opening drew my attention. Aurora sipped the Coke and looked at me over it. Her eyes were wide and free of tears now, but it didn’t placate me. The damage was already done.

  “Christ,” I said. “I should’ve bought that place for you the minute you mentioned you wanted it.”

  “What? No!” Aurora choked on the soda and spilled a little down her front. She grabbed a napkin from the tray and dabbed at the shirt I’d given her. “I don’t want any help with it. Or I didn’t when I still had the chance to purchase it.”

  “Don’t be stubborn,” I replied, evenly, tamping down on the anger that had balled up in my chest now, and demanded release. “If I’d bought it for you, you wouldn’t be in this situation now.”

  “If you’d bought it for me, I wouldn’t have accepted it. Or I’d have left town. It would have terrified me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we’ve known each other less than a week!” She glugged down more Coke and licked her lips. “A week. For heaven’s sake, it’s over now. It’s over. It’s fine, I’ll recover from this and move on. I’m sorry I let you bring me here.” Aurora slipped her legs over the side of the bed.

  “Don’t leave,” I said. “I’m going to fix this.”

  “Jarryd, you couldn’t possibly fix this. It’s been sold fair and square. It’s not like—”

  “I’ll fix it,” I insisted. “Eat something. Get your strength up.”

  “My strength is fine. I had a moment of weakness, that’s all. It happens from time to time.”

  A moment of weakness? Her only dream had been crushed before her eyes, and she called the collapse after it a moment of weakness? “You don’t have to be strong,” I said and tightened my grip on the phone. “I’ll be strong for the both of us. I’ve got you, Aurora.”

  She hesitated, her sneakers an inch off the ground. She bowed her head and shook it. “OK,” she said, at last. “OK.” And she slipped off her shoes and white ankle socks, let them fall to the ground b
eside the bed. “OK,” she said, one more time. Perhaps, the collapse hadn’t been the last of the emotions she needed to release.

  Aurora lay back against the pillows, her raven hair spread out around her head, and squeezed her eyes shut.

  I switched my focus back to the phone and tapped the screen to light it up again. The list of results from my search jumped out at me. I scrolled through them, looking for the cabin’s listing. Surely, it hadn’t been taken down yet. The cabin had to have been sold recently, perhaps in the last day or two, and I highly doubted Moondance’s real estate agency would be super-efficient.

  Then again, that might’ve been LA snobbery on my part.

  “Here,” I muttered and clicked on a link. An image of the cabin popped up on the screen. I scrolled a little further, read the description—a “fixer-upper”—and noted the picture of the real estate agent.

  It was the same woman who’d interrupted us after our passionate moment beside the lake. And she’d definitely had a cell phone.

  I clicked on her name and opened up a link to her profile page on the real estate website. She had contact information up, an office number and a cell. I clicked on the information and selected the option to dial.

  I put the phone to my ear and listened to the ringing. It went to an automated voicemail message, and I hung up, redialed.

  “What are you doing?” Aurora asked, sitting up in bed again, clutching two handfuls of the sheets. “Who are you calling?”

  “Estate agent,” I replied.

  “It’s past midnight!”

  “I don’t care,” I said. The call went to voicemail again. Shit. I dialed again. I’d keep calling the woman until she picked up, if it took me all night. This had to be dealt with.

  “Jarryd, I don’t think this is a good idea. If it’s already sold, what can we do?”

  “I could buy it,” I said.

  “I told you, I won’t accept it if you do that. It’s not right.”

  “Aurora—”

  “I won’t accept that,” she said, firmly.

  “Fine,” I replied. “Fine, but I still want to find out who bought it and why. This is too much of a coincidence.” I hit redial again. Waited.

  “You think someone did this on purpose?” she asked. “But that’s crazy.”

  “Exactly.” Finally, the line clicked.

  “Hello?” A groggy woman’s voice, heavy with sleep. She cleared her throat. “Hello? Who is this? Why are you calling me at—”

  “Is this Marjorie Finley?” I asked.

  “Yes, what do you want?” the real estate agent grunted.

  I paced back and forth in front of the desk, Aurora’s gaze tracking me across the room. “Marjorie, this is Jarryd Tombs.”

  “Jarryd Tombs. Jarryd—wait, the actor? That Jarryd Tombs?” Marjorie’s question came into sharper focus, the shuffle of covers pulled back and the click of a light on the other end of the line.

  “Yes, that’s me. I need a favor.”

  “A favor.”

  This would be a hell of a lot easier if she’d stop repeating every word I said. “Yes,” I replied. “It’s come to my attention that the cabin by the lake has recently been purchased.”

  “That’s correct,” she said. “Were you interested in it?”

  “I was interested.” I waved Aurora’s to silence before she could interrupt. “But now it’s sold, yes?”

  “Yes, the buyer paid the money for it, in full, this afternoon,” Marjorie replied. “Or was it yesterday afternoon? It’s past midnight, right?”

  “And there’s no way the buyer will go back on the decision?”

  Marjorie clicked her tongue—a hen clucking over its eggs, the eggs being money, of course. “No, I don’t think so. He seemed exceptionally happy with the purchase. Overjoyed, in fact. He wouldn’t stop smiling.”

  “He?”

  “Yes,” she replied.

  “Who’s the buyer?”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Tombs, but I’m not at liberty to disclose that information. I have to respect his privacy as he specifically requested that I don’t divulge that information to anyone,” she said, though her voice cracked a little at the end—this was tough for her. Perhaps, the intrigue of this situation, me calling in the middle of the night, had gotten to her.

  “If you give me his name, I may be able to convince him to sell. I’ll give you a cut of the payment, call it a finder’s fee.”

  Aurora hissed at me.

  I raised a palm. “This is important to me, Marjorie. I have a special connection to that cabin, you understand? A friend of mine has fond memories there.”

  “I—Mr. Tombs, this is highly unorthodox.”

  “I’m a highly unorthodox individual, but I always stand by my word. If the buyer decides to sell to me, I’ll give you a finder’s fee of $30,000.”

  “Mr. Tombs! That was the price of the cabin to start with,” she said.

  “I know.”

  I could almost make out the cogs working, smell the burning as she calculated what she could spend that money on.

  Aurora huffed and folded her arms, the soda can still in one hand.

  “I trust that you’ll keep the information discreet.” Marjorie’s voice lowered. “He did request that the information be kept from the public, from anyone. This is unethical on my part but—”

  “But I’ve made you and offer you can’t refuse.”

  Marjorie exhaled, a low rush of wind against the receiver. “All right. The guy who bought it is pretty well known in town, and once again, I ask that you keep this information to yourself.”

  “You have my word. Who is he?” I turned and looked Aurora in the eye.

  “His name is James Goodman. He’s quite popular. A nice man who would probably sell to you if you asked him. He’s ancestor descendent of one of the founding fathers of Moondance, if you can believe it.”

  “What is it?” Aurora asked.

  My face had gone numb, my fists clenched involuntarily.

  “Jarryd?” Aurora whispered. “What is it? Who is it?”

  “Thank you for the information,” I said and hung up. I dropped the cell phone on the desk as if it’d transformed into a viper.

  “What’s going on?” Aurora had slipped off the mattress in the interim. She padded across the carpet and took my arm, tugged on it. “Jarryd, you’re scaring me.”

  The thoughts that rolled through my mind scared me, too. Violent thoughts of tracking the fucker down and punishing him. He’d done this to Aurora, and now I had to tell her the truth and watch her fall apart about it all over again.

  Because the truth was, there wasn’t a chance in hell James Goodman would give up that cabin if he knew it would wind up in Aurora’s hands. It truly was over.

  Chapter 22

  Aurora

  Jarryd had turned a shade of red that would’ve been the envy of strawberries. I tugged on his forearm again. “Who bought it? I have a right to know.”

  He flinched and looked down at me. The color drained from him, but he didn’t pale completely. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  My heart tha-thumped. Well, that can’t be good. “Why?”

  “It’s James. James bought the cabin.”

  I clung to his arm to keep from falling over again. How many times could that happen in one day? I shut my eyes and steadied myself. James, my ex, who wanted to punish me for daring to go against his wishes to date me, had bought the cabin right out from under me. He didn’t care about it. He probably didn’t want to live in it or even resell it. It was a tactic to make me feel small.

  How did he know I wanted it? Likely, he’d heard it around town. Heard that I was interested.

  And that meant he’d never sell it to me. Not without some sick undercurrent of a cost. I didn’t want to think about what that might be.

  “Aurora.” Jarryd anchored me to the present with his presence.

  I opened my eyes and looked up at him. “I’m OK,” I said. But I wasn’t. Not really.
A part of me had believed that Jarryd might be able to convince the buyer to sell to me. Not to him, no, I truly didn’t want the handout. I wanted to buy the damn place fairly, and I’d been five thousand dollars from reaching the price.

  “You’re not OK,” Jarryd said. “I know how much this meant to you.”

  I sucked in a breath, hiccupped. “I have to be OK. That’s life, isn’t it?” Ironically, if Jarryd had never challenged James’ masculinity and his warped sense of self-esteem, he likely wouldn’t have bought up the cabin.

  In a way, our relationship, if it could be called that, had been part of the cause of this. It’d brought us to this moment. “I’ll work something out,” I said.

  “What?”

  “I don’t know. Something else will come up. Another house.” But I couldn’t afford much, and I didn’t want another house. I wanted my only childhood home. “It’s not the end of the world. I’ve handled worse than this.”

  “You don’t have to be brave if you don’t want to be, Aurora. You’re allowed to be mad. God knows, I’m fucking furious.” He trembled under my grip, and I smoothed a finger over the hairs on his forearm.

  “There’s nothing we can do,” I said.

  “Bullshit,” he replied. “I’ll make that asshole give the place to you. I’ll fucking throttle him for it if I have to.”

  “That won’t change anything. If anything, it will only make things worse.”

  “No. It will make things right,” Jarryd replied. “Men like him, they’re bullies. As soon as you confront them head on, they buckle. Your ex thinks he’s bullying you by doing this. He probably thinks you haven’t told me about it. Boy, is he in for a fucking surprise.” Jarryd gently removed his arm from my grip and made for the door.

  I scooted forward on jelly legs and blocked his path. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to see him.”

  “No, you can’t.”

  “I can, and I will,” he said and gripped my upper arms. He lifted me, spun around then set me down gently out of his route to the exit. “He’s got to know that he can’t get away with this. That I know, and I’m going to destroy him if he—”