None of my friends from high school spoke to me anymore.
If David hadn’t been so controlling, had been nicer, or more fun to be around, I wouldn’t have had to choose him over my friends. I’d have someone to share my fears, hopes, and dreams with. Have a girlfriend or two to hang out with, to complain about how my ex ruined my life.
I, of course, had my parents.
But they weren’t the same.
I just wished for…someone.
Someone that’d be there for me.
Someone that’d give me a hug when I needed it.
Like right fucking now. I needed a hug in the worst way.
Thunder rolled, and my heart pounded.
“Boom goes the dynamite!” Boris yelled.
Knowing I wouldn’t be getting to sleep anytime soon, I went to my back room, and did the only thing that I knew would help me find relief.
Chapter 7
Never, ever, trust men. They’re all the same. Big ‘ol buttheads.
-Blake’s note to self
Foster
“I cannot believe you’re making me do this, Uncle Darren. This is Missy’s job. Seriously, I’m going to give every single one of your SWAT team food poisoning, and then where would you be?” that voice said.
The voice that gave me an instant hard on.
The voice that’d been teasing me for weeks over the airwaves.
The voice that I wanted screaming my name with me pounding her to oblivion.
“Missy gave you very detailed instructions. All you have to do is right here,” Chief Rhodes said to Blake.
I’m glad that I never did anything with her…or to her, that would’ve brought his wrath down on my back.
It was a good thing to know. Considering it’d been in all my intentions to seduce her…and possibly keep her.
“Alright, I’ve got the biggest pot I could find, boiling with water. Now what?” she asked, running her finger over a piece of paper at her side.
I glanced at Chief Rhodes and nearly laughed when I saw him flipping through what looked like a Guns & Ammo Magazine.
He wasn’t even paying the least bit of attention to her.
Leaning against the door jam, I continued to watch as she brought out a large paper bag that had ‘Fisherman’s Cove’ on the side.
Peeking into the bag, she squeaked and stepped back, letting the bag drop to the floor.
“Oh, my God! They’re all over the floor, Uncle Darren!” Blake squealed.
The Chief didn’t even look up from his magazine.
“Pick them up,” he said distractedly.
The lobsters, all fifteen of them, started crawling around the kitchen floor.
“Uncle Darren, you big bastard,” Blake hissed.
The Chief smiled. “Did you read this article yet?”
“Which one? The one on the fifty caliber AR-15?” Blake gasped, stepping to the side of a crawling crustacean.
“That one. Do you see how far the shot knocks him back?” the Chief laughed.
“About as far as I’m going to knock you if you don’t fucking help me,” she growled, dancing on the tips of her toes and shaking her head.
I scanned her body, taking in everything in a glance.
Her hair was up in messy bun on top of her head, stray hairs falling out every which way.
She was wearing blue jean shorts that just barely covered her ass, and a white tank top that said, ‘I make dirt look sexy.’
Her legs were long and toned.
They were deeply tanned, but you could tell that they were tan from being outside, and not a tanning bed.
She had a suntan line at her ankles from what looked like socks and shoes.
Her toes were painted a lime green, and she was wearing a pinky toe ring.
The whole outfit was outrageous, but it fit Blake’s personality perfectly.
“Need help?” I rumbled from the doorway.
The Chief didn’t look up, but Blake did.
And she looked stunned.
“What are you doing here so early? Dinner’s not ready yet,” she snapped.
I held my hands up.
“I’m here because I’m supposed to drop these off,” I said, waving a stack of folders in her direction.
My eyes roamed the front of her, zeroing in on the way her pink and white bra straps showed from under her tank.
She narrowed her eyes, and effectively dismissed me by turning her back on me.
I guessed, though, that it was because she was hiding the way her nipples pebbled in reaction to my gaze.
Well, I’ll take that as she was happy to see me.
The Chief finally stood and walked over to me, stepping over a lobster as he went. “You have one escaping into the kitchen,” he said on his way out.
I followed him, smiling at the curse she tossed at his back.
“You’re mean,” I laughed.
The Chief looked over at me and winked. “She needs to be challenged sometimes. And she’s stubborn as hell. If I hadn’t given her something to do, she’d just be worrying.”
He led us to the backdoor, and out onto the deck.
“Worry about what?” I asked.
He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Her house was broken into last night. They took a couple of things. Little stuff. A vase she got for her wedding, and a picture album. Her computer was wiped.”
I pursed my lips, thinking about what he said. “Is it related to the ex?”
He shrugged. “David was on shift last night, so we know it wasn’t him. The girlfriend had an alibi. Not that I accused them of anything, but she made sure to offer one up.”
I nodded.
My eyes scanned over his backyard.
It was nice.
Large.
Everything that I didn’t want.
I wanted wide open space. I didn’t want a place that was confined by a fence.
I wanted to be able to walk out my backyard, and not see a neighbor in sight.
What I also wanted was for my brother to stop worrying about me.
I’d been living with Miller and Mercy ever since my accident, and you’d think I was their child with the way they treated me.
Always making sure I was alright. Making sure I had every uplifting hand they could offer.
“Here,” I said, handing over the files to him.
He took them, flipping it open and looking through it.
“Thanks,” he sighed. “I was hoping to stay away from work for the next couple days, but I had a hunch and I was curious.”
I raised my brow, wondering if he’d expand on it.
Which he did in the next second.
“David’s girlfriend seemed really jittery when I ran into them at the diner, and there was something she said about the break in that made me wonder. So I had my secretary run her name in the database for me. Thanks for bringing them, by the way. I needed to help Blake with the lobsters,” he said, laying the first file out on the table before he scanned it.
It sure looked like he was doing a lot of ‘helping.’
Not that I would get into that. Not with the Chief of Police, anyway.
The man was my boss, after all. I wasn’t stupid.
“And what’d she say that had you questioning her?” I asked, taking the bait he was handing me.
He shrugged. “She was so adamant that she ‘didn’t do it’ that I started to not trust her word. So I had her and the friend, the one that was her alibi, checked out.”
“And?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Nothing. Neither can be confirmed. It could be possible that they were with each other, but it could also be possible that they weren’t, and that the friend is just covering for her.”
I nodded. “What else is there?”
“Aleo’s file has a few minor incidences. Three speeding tickets. A restraining order. That’s it,” he said, slamming the file closed and moving on to the friends.
“And the alibi?” I
asked.
He flipped it open.
“Ronaldo Aleo. The ex,” he said. “Couple of misdemeanors. Nothing else, though.”
“Why would the two exes be hanging out together?” I asked, truly interested in knowing the answer.
I didn’t know a single couple that’d divorced that was friendly with the other.
He shook his head. “They were discussing child support or something to that effect. He was over at her house, and that’s all I got from them.”
I nodded, but before I could ask any more questions, a shrill scream pierced the air that had both of us running into the kitchen.
Chapter 8
Friendship is like pissing your pants. Everyone can see it, but only you can feel its warmth. I want someone to be the piss in my pants.
-Blake’s secret thoughts
Foster
We found Blake standing on the counter with a pair of grill tongs in her pot-holder-covered hands, and a lobster hanging from the very tips.
The lobster’s front pincher was stuck in one of the grooves of the tong.
Blake had the lobster suspended over the large pot of boiling water, and she was crying.
“It won’t come off!” Blake cried, shaking the tongs.
The scene was so unreal that there was only one thing I could do.
Laugh.
A laugh that I desperately needed.
I limped over there after I finally managed to catch my breath, and easily took the lobster off the hook and put him out of his misery.
That’s when the screaming started.
“Oh, my God!” She cried, huge crocodile tears pouring out of her eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me? They scream?”
The Chief was in the corner, holding his stomach as he tried in vain to get his laughter under control.
“Where are the rest of them?” I asked.
She pointed to the floor.
“Where?” I asked again.
“Under the Tupperware,” she said, gesturing to the plastic bowls all over the floor.
I’d originally thought that they were from her mad dash on the counter. Now I knew different.
Bending down, I flipped the bowl over to find one confused looking lobster.
Picking him up, and those of his brethren, I dropped them all into the boiling water, and covered the pot.
“Now what?” I asked.
Her eyes, though, were focused on the pot as the lobsters all thrashed around wildly as they were boiled alive.
“That would be such a horrible way to go. I don’t think I can eat them. Not ever again,” she whispered brokenly.
I shrugged and turned my face, which put me into the perfect place.
Staring at her way to short shorts. Shorts that I only had to tilt my head just right and I could tell she was wearing something purple. Shorts that were God’s gift to man.
“I’m pretty sure they don’t feel anything,” I said, backing away, knowing if I didn’t get out of there, and quick, I’d be sneaking my fingers up the miniscule pant leg and running my fingers through the lips of her sex. Sinking my thick fingers deep inside of her.
I stumbled, drawing Blake’s attention from my face, down to my exposed legs.
Her eyes widened when she finally saw my lack of leg.
Saw the black graphite prosthesis that was so blatantly obvious that I couldn’t help but cringe when people stared.
All thoughts of fucking her went out the goddamned window.
Who the fuck knew if I could even fuck normally anymore?
Who the fuck knew what was in store for me.
Everything, and I do mean everything, was different now that I was missing a piece of myself.
Walking. Driving a car. Getting out of bed. Taking a shower. Putting on motherfuckin’ pants.
There was not one single thing that I could do easily anymore.
Everything took forethought.
I had to plan out my morning now, the night before.
Used to be I could just get out of bed anytime I wanted.
Now, I had to wake up, rub motherfuckin’ lotion on. Something I’d never done in my entire life. Then slip the liner on over what remained of my leg, fit the pin in the socket of my prosthetic, then go about my day.
That wasn’t the end of it, though.
There were days that I had to add extra socks to my leg because it shrinks. Then there are days I have to wear none at all because it’s bloated.
I never realized just how much my legs changed throughout the day until I had to start fitting it into a piece of plastic that refused to bend, even a little bit.
I turned around and left, leaving Blake’s concerned gaze at my back, passing the chief who was staring at his feet.
I would’ve escaped, too, as per my usual, but the minute I opened the door to leave, I ran into my over reacting brother.
“What’s wrong?” He asked immediately.
I pushed past him. “I forgot my phone in the car. Is it alright if I go get it, mom?”
Mercy, my sister in law, snickered under her breath.
She was my partner in crime, helping me get away from Miller’s concerned gaze watching my every move.
Sometimes I felt like I couldn’t breathe…like right now.
The last thing I wanted was for the girl I had the hots for to look at me as less of a man. Which was what Blake had done. Regardless of whether she’d meant to or not.
***
“This is really good eating,” Miller said, moaning over the taste of his lobster as he ate sloppily.
Luke, our captain on the SWAT team, snorted.
“Kinda hard to fuck up sea food, but it is pretty good. Missy did a fine good job,” Luke said, dipping his piece of the tail into the butter with his fingers.
His wife, Reese, smacked him. “Use your fork, you Neanderthal.”
He grinned, pieces of shellfish stuck to his teeth.
“That’s nasty,” Georgia said, grimacing.
Georgia was the wife to Nico, another member on the SWAT team. She was a sweet little thing that still amazed me, to this day, that she could handle the likes of her husband.
Nico was a dark son of a bitch. Always moody and rarely talking; he never seemed approachable.
Not that that bothered me. I could hold a conversation with him if I wanted to. I knew he’d have my back always, but I also knew he just wasn’t that much of a talker, which suited me just fine. I didn’t want to do much talking myself, lately.
“Blake made it,” I said around a mouthful of French fries.
Luke looked at me sharply. “Blake?”
The Chief pointed to the back porch where Blake was currently sleeping on a hammock.
“My niece,” he said.
I’d been wondering why she didn’t eat, but I didn’t want to let on that I cared.
So, I’d stayed silent and kept my eyes on her for the last two hours.
After she’d finished cooking, she’d slipped out the backdoor, and had laid down in the hammock. Then promptly fell asleep.
My eyes hadn’t strayed from her form since.
She slept hard. It was almost as if she hadn’t had any sleep since the bad call she’d taken three nights before.
Then to have her house broken into, on top of that, probably wasn’t conducive to sleeping well at her own place.
“What’s she doing out there?” Downy asked, turning around in his seat to look out the window. “She could’ve eaten with us.”
“She has migraines,” Chief Rhodes said. “Fresh air seems to help.”
That explained the icepack.
It also explained why she was under a blanket in the shade, rather than in the sun.
I’d read somewhere that sun tended to have an adverse reaction to migraines.
“Eww,” Memphis said. “You should tell her to look up pressure points on the body. Those always used to help me.”
“She doesn’t have migraines anymore. I can hit one pressure point perfe
ct…Owww! What’d you do that for?” Downy asked Memphis, rubbing the back of his arm where I’d guessed she’d pinched him.
She didn’t even flinch from the big man’s glare.
“Not at the dinner table, you big shit,” Memphis glared.
I snorted, but nonetheless finished my lunch and stood. “It’s been fun.”
“You’re leaving already?” Miller asked in surprise.
Before my accident, I’d been a social butterfly.
Now, though, not so much.
I’d rather be in my own company.
I literally did have somewhere to go, though.
“I have to get fitted for my new prosthesis. The blade,” I said, finishing up my water and walking into the kitchen.
A couple of weeks ago, I’d been fitted for the blade, and today would be the first time I’d wear it.
Dumping my plate into the sink, I rinsed it off and then loaded it into the dishwasher.
As I was doing so, the backdoor opened.
I knew it was her without even turning around.
She smelled.
Not in a bad way, either.
That, at least, would make it a lot easier to deal with her. To get her out of my head.
But no. She had to smell like the goddamn sun in the middle of a rainstorm. The honeysuckles that bloomed wild around the county.
Jesus.
Small, nimble fingers emptied the ice pack I’d seen over her eyes earlier into the sink, and she walked to the side partially to toss the pack into a drawer filled with ones just like it.
“How was it?” She asked softly.
I put the fork into the washer and closed it before turning to her. “It was good.”
She nodded, wincing slightly.
“Good,” she said softly. “I’ll see you later.”
With that, she went out the garage door, to what I assumed was her car.
I watched her ass the entire way, too.
After saying my goodbyes, I walked out the front door and strode across the chief’s lawn to my truck.
I had to pass Blake’s car to get there, though, and that’s when I saw her.
She was sitting in the front seat, crying.
I shook my head and kept walking.
I couldn’t make myself get in, however.
I tried. I really did.
Valiantly, too.
Charlie Foxtrot Page 5
