Officer out of Uniform (Lock and Key Book 2)

by Ranae Rose

  * * * * *

  Randy didn’t answer the door right away. Instead, he turned on his heel and dashed back to the bedroom, slipping the Blaser under the bed.

  “Fuck.” He leapt up from the mildewy carpet, sweating.

  Back in the living room, he stood frozen, waiting for whoever it was to go away. If it was a neighbor he could wait them out and they’d probably assume Reynolds was asleep, or taking a shit.

  But they didn’t go away, didn’t quit knocking.

  “Dad!” A male voice called out from outside the trailer. “Dad, it’s me. Sean.”

  Randy crept to the nearest window and lifted the threadbare curtain, straining for a glimpse of Sean, or whoever the fuck was outside.

  A skinny guy wearing a baggy t-shirt stood alone on the stoop holding a case of cheap beer. Couldn’t have been any older than twenty-five, probably more like twenty.

  “Come on, dad.”

  Randy swore, knowing he’d have to stop the racket before someone noticed and realized that Reynolds wasn’t there. If it was just a neighbor, Randy would’ve laid back and waited for them to slink off, go fuck themselves. But this was the miserable sack of shit’s son. He might just care enough to have the law come check the place out if no one answered.

  So Randy did the only thing he dared to do – he answered the door.

  Sean stood there and blinked watery blue eyes like he’d just been smacked upside the head. “Who’re you?”

  Randy stuck out a hand. “Name’s Kenny. You must be Sean. C’mon in – your old man’ll be back soon enough.”

  CHAPTER 15

  “You know my dad?” Sean traipsed into the trailer like a cow into a slaughterhouse.

  “Would I be here if I didn’t?” Randy grinned, hefted the case of beer out of Sean’s arms. “I’ll stick these in the fridge. Want one?”

  “Sure.”

  Randy tossed him a beer, then took one for himself.

  “Where’s dad?” Sean asked as he flipped back the tab.

  “Headed down to the beach for a few days with a lady friend. Rented one of them hotel rooms with the ocean view, lucky son of a bitch. Left me to crash here while he’s gone.”

  “Dad went to the beach?” Sean looked like he’d never heard anything so crazy. “He has a girlfriend?”

  Randy shrugged. “She ain’t much of a looker, but she’s female, sure enough.”

  “Dang.” Sean shook his head. “I’d like to know where he got the money for a hotel room.”

  “Well now, I can answer that – he got it workin’ for me.”

  Sean screwed up his face. “But dad’s on disability.”

  “Don’t you worry about that. Compensation is strictly under the table – he won’t lose his benefits. I just needed someone to be here, to be available to distribute product, that’s all. That’s why I’m hangin’ around while he’s gone. Someone’s gotta be here, for when customers come around.”

  “Product?”

  God, Sean was dumb as a box of rocks. Of course, that was exactly what Randy was counting on. He had to repress a grin. “You ever tried crystal?”

  “You mean meth? Nah. Not me. I’ve tried a few other things though.”

  Randy smiled and nodded. “Well, that’s a good thing. I won’t touch the stuff myself, but I’m makin’ money hand over fist sellin’ it.”

  Sean’s eyes brightened, and Randy could see the wheels in his head turning as greed took hold. “You sell meth? You’re a dealer?”

  Randy stopped smiling. “That don’t go outside of this trailer, ya hear? Not if you want your old man to stay free. If the law around here heard one word of that, they’d have him behind bars in a heartbeat.”

  Sean nodded. “Right. Right. I won’t say a word, man.”

  Randy tipped back his beer and let Sean soak in the silence for a few minutes. “What about you – you lookin’ for work?”

  “I could use a job,” Sean admitted. “Got kicked out of my apartment. Came here hoping my old man would let me crash for a few days.”

  “Mmph.” Randy took another long drink from the beer can. “Well, I’ve got some fresh supply coming in in a few days. It’ll be quiet around here ’til then, but I could use an extra set of hands when the time comes. You up for makin’ some money?”

  Sean was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “Hell yeah. How much?”

  “More than you’d earn flippin’ burgers, that’s for sure.”

  Sean smiled and Randy did the same. He could’ve offed the kid the second he’d walked through the door, but he hadn’t gotten this far by shooting first and thinking later.

  He’d watched Reynolds before killing him, long enough to know that he wouldn’t be missed right away. He didn’t know about Sean, and so he’d bide his time for a little while before getting rid of him. Find out if he’d told anyone where he was going – if anyone would know where to look if he went missing.

  Meanwhile, the kid was nine parts stupid and one part money-hungry, and someone like that could be useful.

  Tonight was already ruined, anyway. If Randy killed Sean now, he’d have to clean up and get rid of the body – risk hitting the road in Reynolds’ car to make it to water deep enough to hide a dead man. Every cop in Riley knew his face, and he could very well be caught.

  He wasn’t ready to risk that. Not yet. He had bigger fish to fry than Sean Reynolds.

  * * * * *

  Sasha woke up suddenly, but not to the sound of her phone’s alarm clock. No, it was motion that’d jarred her out of sleep and into uncertain wakefulness.

  “Henry?” She knew exactly where she was. How could she possibly have forgotten how she’d fallen asleep: with Henry’s arm around her waist, her body faintly and deliciously sore from what they’d done … twice.

  He was beside her, a large, dark shape in the center of the bed. She was near the edge, and braced herself on her elbows, raising her head. Squinting, she could see that he was moving in the dark, limbs jerking beneath twisted sheets.

  “Are you awake?”

  He didn’t answer, which she took as a no. Raising a hand, she hesitated. Should she wake him up? He might be having a nightmare.

  On the other hand, if he wasn’t, he probably wouldn’t appreciate the interruption. He had work in the morning – which was only a couple hours away – and God knew he’d exerted himself today.

  He jerked, and the entire mattress shook, squeaking a little. He’d rolled closer to her, and she was teetering on the edge of the bed.

  He swore – in his sleep, she soon realized. Leaning over him, she touched his arm. Clearly, he wasn’t getting any rest, even if he was out of it.

  Her fingertips had barely brushed his biceps when he jerked again, and his elbow collided with her face.

  The impact stunned her, and it’d barely registered when another one jarred her, this time from below.

  She’d rolled off the edge of the bed and was lying on the floor. The realization dawned on her as she choked out a gasp and struggled to regain the air that’d been knocked out of her lungs.

  “Sasha?” More jerking from above, and rolling. “Sasha! Fuck. Fuck!”

  Henry leapt out of bed, nearly stepping on her.

  Luckily, she’d regained the ability to breathe, and therefore speak. Barely.

  “Henry!” she squeaked.

  Thank God, he heard.

  “Sasha! What the hell are you doing down there?” He dropped to his knees. Even though it was dark, she could see that his eyes were wide and his forehead was slick with sweat. “I woke up and thought you were gone. Are you sleeping on the floor?”

  She laughed a little. She couldn’t help it, even if her eye and cheek were throbbing. “Not exactly.”

  “Then what’s going on?”

  “Well, I’m pretty sure you were having a bad dream. You knocked me out of bed.”

  She could practically see his face go several shades paler, even in the dark. “I did?”

  “You throw a really
mean elbow, even in your sleep. Have you ever considered a career in prize fighting? I’m thinking the UFC.”

  “What the hell? You’re saying I hit you?”

  “By accident. I was leaning over you and you jerked in your sleep.” If he’d done it purposely, he’d probably have taken her head off. “I woke up because you were rolling around, and I tried to wake you up. When I touched your arm, you threw your elbow back and it caught me in the face.”

  He groaned, and even though the sound was wordless, it sounded suspiciously like a long, drawn-out fuuuuck.

  “Are you okay?”

  Next thing she knew, the ceiling light came on in a burst of white light. She screwed up her eyes against the sudden illumination, then winced because doing so made her face ache.

  Henry scooped her up like she was a fallen soldier on the field of battle, but she hardly had time to feel ridiculous before he deposited her on the bed, leaning in close, getting in her face. “What day is it?”

  “Um. Wednesday? No, I guess it’s technically Thursday now, isn’t it?”

  “What’s my house number?”

  “360.”

  “Look here.” He pulled a small, tactical looking flashlight out of the bed stand and raised it, turned on a low setting. “Follow the light with your eyes.”

  She did so for a few seconds, then blinked, shaking her head. “I don’t have a concussion, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  He lowered the light and frowned. “I don’t remember hitting you. I didn’t know how hard—”

  “It wasn’t that bad,” she hurried to say. “The main reason I fell is because I was already teetering on the edge of the bed. I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this, but you’re a mattress-hog.”

  He grimaced. “Yeah, well I usually don’t share. Your eye is going to be black tomorrow. It already looks like hell.” He moved his hand, like he was going to reach for hers, then balled it up in his lap. He still wore the pair of jeans he’d pulled on after sex, refusing to settle down for sleep, insisting on staying up.

  Obviously, he’d drifted off at some point.

  He met her eyes, and the look she saw there made her heart ache. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

  She looked down at the comforter. Why hadn’t she told him she’d rolled out of bed on her own and hit the stand on the way down? That seemed like it would’ve been a better option than watching him freak out over something he’d done completely on accident.

  “Don’t worry about it,” she said, knowing he would anyway. “I’ll be fine.”

  “I gave you a black eye!” He stood up suddenly, looking furious. She didn’t think for a second that his anger was directed at her, but it was still intimidating. “That’s not fine.”

  “It was an accident.”

  “I’ll get you some ice.” He turned on his heel and marched out of the room.

  She followed him into the kitchen, and so did Wolf, who’d been sleeping outside the bedroom door.

  Henry filled a sandwich bag with ice and handed it to her. Only the light above the sink was on, but it was enough to show her the fat vein bulging below his jaw, and the line between his eyes.

  “Are you sure you’re not hurt bad? If you need me to take you to the doctor in the morning, or the hospital now, let me know.”

  She rolled her eyes, pressing the ice against her left one. “The emergency room for a little bruise? Please, I suffered worse injuries than this playing girls’ volley ball back in high school.”

  He nodded, but didn’t meet her gaze. Every muscle in his body looked tight and defined. Sexy, though she hated to see him so tense. “Come on, let’s go back to bed.”

  “You go. I’m staying up.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I’ll tell you what’d be ridiculous: me lying back down in that bed with you and risking hurting you again. I won’t do it. If I get tired, I’ll take the couch.”

  “I’m sure it’d be just—”

  He jerked his head, frowning. “No. You were right about the dream. If I knew how to stop the dreams I would, but I don’t. I can’t control myself if I’m not awake. So this is how it has to be.”

  For half a second, she seriously considered hitting him in the face so they’d be even and he’d stop drowning himself in guilt. She couldn’t bring herself to do it though. Even if she’d been the type to hit someone, his perfect, sexy face was the last one she’d want to hurt.

  She reached out and grabbed ahold of his hand, squeezing, before he could pull away.

  He let her do it, but didn’t meet her eyes.

  “This really isn’t a big deal. Please stop beating yourself up.”

  He didn’t answer, and she reluctantly let go of his hand.

  CHAPTER 16

  Henry was seriously fucked-up in the head. That much was clear. He had to tear his eyes from the floor to look at Sasha, and what he saw cut through him like a knife, sinking deep between his ribs. One of her big brown eyes stared up at him, while the other was hidden beneath the bag of ice.

  “I’m sorry.” He said it again, but didn’t explain any further. Fuck, how could he?

  He’d drifted off with the taste of her pussy on his tongue, dreaming of what they’d done. He’d been the happiest he could remember ever being, but when that realization had set in, so had another one.

  It had been a darker one, a deeply unhappy thought: he was afraid of losing her. Scared shitless, now that he had her. The itching feeling between his shoulder blades had hit him with such force that it’d felt like a hoard of locusts erupting from his skin.

  Despite it all, he’d fallen asleep, exhausted by fucking her hard, twice, and lulled into complacence by her presence and the things they’d promised each other.

  Look what it’d gotten him: dreams of the desert and death, a night terror that’d robbed him of the rest and peace that should’ve come with sleep. And look what he’d done. He could hardly bring himself to look Sasha in the eye.

  Stress meant bad dreams and apparently, bad dreams meant flailing around in bed like an idiot and giving people black eyes. He hadn’t known, because there’d been so few times he’d shared a bed with anyone over the past five years, let alone during such trying circumstances.

  Still, there was no excuse for what he’d done. He was more than sorry; he hated himself for it. Hated that he’d hurt a woman, especially Sasha, even if it had been an accident. Especially after the night they’d just had, the way she’d trusted him.

  “Henry, you don’t have to keep apologizing.” She reached for him again and the brush of her fingertips sent a wave of shame rolling through him. It was so strong, it actually hurt. Suddenly, he could feel each and every scar on his back burning, mocking him. He jerked away.

  Feeling like the world’s sorriest piece of shit, he looked at her standing alone with her sandwich bag full of ice. He thought her eyes looked wet and so he looked away, not wanting to know. “Go back to bed and get some rest. I won’t let myself be in there with you, no matter how much you argue.”

  She opened her mouth to argue anyway.

  “Go. I want to be alone anyway.”

  She walked away, silent as a ghost as her bare feet touched the linoleum.

  Alone, he started a pot of coffee and turned on his police scanner. The itching feeling between his shoulder blades was still there, and he couldn’t ignore it. There was still one thing he could do right for Sasha: he could protect her from everyone else, even if he couldn’t protect her from himself.

  * * * * *

  “What happened to you?” Kerry stopped dead in her tracks, her blue skirt swinging around her knees as she stood in the Wisteria Plantation House’s foyer. She was head of the small housekeeping team and spent her work days inside the historic mansion while Sasha worked elsewhere on the grounds, in the carriage house that’d been converted into a restaurant.

  Still, it was their morning routine to meet up in the lobby fifteen minutes before the start of the
ir shifts and talk.

  Sasha had considered skipping it this morning, not wanting to flaunt her black eye, but knew Kerry would’ve just come over to the restaurant looking for her.

  “I lost a fight with a bed stand.” Sasha donned her most self-depreciating grin. “Pretty ugly, huh?”

  The bruise was a half moon smudge of purple at the outer corner of her eye. It wasn’t actually that bad as far as black eyes went, but Henry had made a big deal out of it, apologizing about a million times.

  Kerry frowned. “Henry’s bed stand?”

  Sasha glanced around to confirm that no guests were in sight. They weren’t, and so she nodded. “How did you know?”

  “Because you don’t have a bed stand in your room. Besides, I knew when I saw you together at the beach last week that things would be escalating quickly.”

  Well, that was one way to put it. “Good point. And yeah, it was his bed stand. Guess it’s a good thing I don’t have one of my own at home.”

  Kerry frowned, her dark brows plunging low over even darker eyes.

  “Sasha…” She lowered her voice and stepped forward, standing close and practically whispering. “I know this might sound a little offensive, so don’t get upset with me for asking. I have to, because you’re my friend. Did Henry do this to you?”

  Sasha took a step backwards, planting a hand on her hip. “Do you really think he’d do something like that?”

  She felt a little guilty, but not much. There was no way she wanted to tell anyone, even her best friend, that he’d elbowed her accidentally in his sleep.

  Henry was already so furious at himself over it that she didn’t want to make it worse for him by telling their friends. Besides, he absolutely hadn’t hit her on purpose, which was really what Kerry was asking.

  “No, I wouldn’t think he’d do something like that. But obvious signs of abuse are often overlooked or written off as something else because people don’t want to believe bad things about people they think they know.”