Charlie Foxtrot

by Lani Lynn Vale

  She tilted her head slightly. “Kidding you about what?”

  “You can’t wait to have a fucking grandchild?” I whispered deceptively calm.

  “Watch your language,” she said reproachfully, looking around at all of the people around us.

  I could give less than a fuck what they thought.

  “Do you realize that David had a fucking girlfriend for two motherfuckin’ years?” I asked, my voice raising an octave. “Or how about the fact that he never told me he was fucking someone else. The least he could have done was use a goddamned condom around us. But no, not David fucking Dewitt. He was too goddamned special. He could do no fucking wrong. But you wouldn’t know how that feels, because my daddy is the best of the best. He’s so fucking awesome that you’ll never have to experience how that feels. Me, not so lucky. Now I get to watch while some bitch gets to have my life. Now, for the first time in nearly three and a half years, I’m starting to feel happy again, and you have to pull this bullshit. I lost everything. My friends. My husband. My mother. Daddy, Uncle Darren and Aunt Missy are the only people in my life that have helped me, until recently. Now, I’d appreciate it if you never brought up David again. Because, let’s just say, the sound of his name makes me want to vomit the last five years of food I’ve eaten into his face.”

  With that, I threw down a crumpled twenty from my pocket, tossed my napkin over my plate, and stormed out of the restaurant.

  My eyes landed on David in the fucking corner, and a smile touched my lips. Good, the fucker deserved to hear that. So did his shit head of a fiancé.

  My only hope was that she put the baby they were having up for adoption. That poor kid didn’t deserved to have those two assholes as parents.

  That’s when I saw him.

  Foster.

  He had a smile tilting up the corner of his lips, and his eyes were alight with mirth as he watched me walk towards him.

  He was near to laughing, in fact.

  “What are you laughing at?” I snapped as I stormed past him.

  He trailed behind me, leaving his brother and a blonde giant behind.

  Both of their eyes were on us as I pushed out the door.

  “Who’s the Viking?” I asked over my shoulder.

  Today, Foster was wearing his work uniform. He had on his new blade instead of the other prosthesis, and he seemed almost…happier.

  His eyes were crinkled at the corners as he smiled full out at me. The first real smile I’d ever seen grace his lips.

  “That’s Luke, my boss,” he said, walking with me.

  He didn’t even have a limp anymore.

  “You look like you have a spring in your step,” I said warily.

  He gave me a droll look.

  “Really, how original,” he said dryly.

  I stuck my tongue out at him. “For real, though. You look better than I’ve ever seen you.”

  He shrugged. “It always makes me happy to see a woman stick it to her ex. Something you really did. I don’t think you know it, but the entire SWAT team, as well as the big bosses, and a few of the other cities SWAT teams, were sitting in that room just behind you. I’d gone out to show the rest of ours where we were.”

  My mouth dropped open. “You’re shitting me.”

  He shook his head. “No. And trust me, every one of them heard you. Their eyes were already on you to begin with. They heard every word.”

  I stopped and turned towards him.

  He didn’t stop, though, and ran into me.

  “Shit,” he said, grabbing me to him before I could fall from the force.

  Our bodies were pressed against each other’s from chest to thigh and, before I knew it, his mouth was on mine.

  We were a lot closer to my car than I realized, because suddenly my back was pressed against the warm metal with Foster’s large body curling over mine.

  I moaned into his mouth, gasping as he dug something massive into my pubic bone.

  His tongue tangled with mine and his hands found my hair as he pushed into me, swiveling his hips as he did.

  When he finally disengaged his mouth from mine, I looked up at him with a dazed expression. His brown eyes looking full of need. “I like you, Blake.”

  I blinked. “I like you, too.”

  “You’re not alone. I’m here. Even if I’m not a very nice person to talk to all the time, I’m fucking here.”

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  “Just don’t forget it, okay?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

  As I got into my little car and pulled out of the parking lot, I looked back at him standing there.

  His eyes watched me. As if he were stalking his prey. Surveying it to make sure I did what he expected me to do.

  I must’ve done it, too, because he smiled.

  Widely.

  Full out.

  All encompassing.

  And my lips weren’t the only thing tingling any longer.

  Chapter 11

  Do you want the rest of my cake?

  -Said no one ever

  Blake

  “Yes?” I asked to the two men at my front door.

  They were massive. And when I say massive, I mean humongous. Fucking huge.

  Huger than huge.

  Muscled. Ripped. Jacked. Those were only a few words that I’d use to describe them.

  Oh, and they were hot, too.

  One had dark hair, tanned skin, and if I had to guess, some sort of Puerto Rican background. I used to have a friend that had the same dark hair and beautiful skin.

  His eyes were a deep shade of brown, and looked nearly black in his face.

  The other man was easily just as big, but he had caramel colored hair and green eyes. What really set him apart, though, was the scar that ran down his face.

  They also rode motorcycles.

  I’d heard those first.

  Which was what enabled me to watch as they’d dismounted, and then walked up my front walk while talking.

  I wasn’t scared, though.

  Foster had warned me with a note slapped to my front door, after I got back from my run, that they’d be here.

  If I hadn’t been warned it would’ve been a different story.

  “We’re here to set up an alarm for you,” the darker of the two rumbled.

  I swallowed. “I didn’t order an alarm.”

  I hadn’t seen that on the note. It’d said that he had a couple of friends coming over later in the day to take a look at my locks. It had said nothing about an alarm.

  That cheeky bastard. He had to have known that I wouldn’t have allowed them to come over and do that.

  Stuff like that cost money. Money which I didn’t have just floating around.

  I made just enough in a week to cover my bills, groceries, and a few frivolous things. Not something expensive like an alarm system.

  “I don’t have the money to pay for that. I’m sorry you wasted your trip,” I told them honestly.

  They exchanged glances with each other.

  It was the smirk on both of their lips that had my back feathers ruffling.

  “Foster said you’d say that. You need to just let us do our job. Apparently, it was funded by the police department,” Scarface said. “My name is Max.”

  He held out his hand to me, and I took it, shaking it.

  I must’ve surprised him with the force I put into it, because he squeezed my hand a little harder before he released me.

  “Gabe,” tall, dark and dangerous said, offering me his hand.

  I took his as well, and stepped out of the doorway, allowing them in.

  “Well,” I didn’t really know what to say. “Do you need me for anything?”

  “Only access to the house. Which you’ve already done. Later, we’ll need more guiding on the code. So be thinking of something easy you want to use. A six digit number is best. Nothing consecutive,” Max told me.

  I nodded and swept my arm in an arc.

  But I stopped them
before they could get more than two feet.

  “Do either of you have Foster’s number?” I asked hopefully.

  They smiled.

  “No, pretty lady. We don’t.”

  With that comment, they left.

  Stubborn men.

  I damn well knew that they had his number.

  They had to.

  Foster had asked them not to give it to me, though.

  I knew it just as well as I knew that the police department wasn’t the one paying for it, he was.

  A smile kicked up the corner of my lip, and I closed my eyes.

  What was the feeling in my chest?

  After an hour of watching The Price is Right, I decided I knew what it was.

  Excitement. I was actually looking forward to something for the first time in a very long time.

  And it was a fight.

  Hopefully a fight that would lead to something…more.

  ***

  I was painting my toes when what sounded like a movie started to play at full blast.

  It played out just like an action movie. The part where a hail of gunfire starts peppering the surroundings, and the people all hide behind the car and miraculously don’t get hit.

  My head peaked up from its hunched position over my toes, and surveyed the area.

  I hadn’t even heard them move.

  It was like they were trained in the art of ninja or something.

  One second they were nowhere to be seen, and the next I was being hauled backwards.

  I spilled my nail polish in the process, and all I could focus on, while a tattooed, muscled forearm belonging to Max, hauled me back, was the fact that the spilled polish resembled a pool of blood.

  “What the fuck?” Max barked in frustration when he saw my side room.

  They hadn’t had a chance to get to that room, obviously.

  It was filled to the brim with books.

  The entire four walls were packed three feet high and three paperbacks thick.

  Nonetheless, Max dropped us down to the floor and covered me with his body.

  This wasn’t anywhere near as erotic as I’d imagined it being

  Firstly, in my books, the heroine was always in love with the one protecting her.

  Secondly, the man at my back was married, and I couldn’t feel that way about someone that was married.

  He’d been talking about his wife, Peyton, for a good hour and a half now, and frankly I was a little jealous.

  I wanted what she had.

  But I was also happy for her. It was nice that someone had the devotion of a man like Max.

  Someone that would protect her like the way he was doing to me, with his life.

  Sure, he’d do it for stranger, too, which he was exhibiting now. But it wouldn’t be that blind devotion that he’d give to his wife.

  The shooting, which had continued this entire time, suddenly stopped.

  My ears rang in the silence, and I finally took my first breath in three minutes.

  Well, I’d probably taken others, but I wasn’t counting those. Those were panic breaths.

  Max’s heavy body didn’t move, and I laid there, wondering when he would.

  “Are you going to get off of me?” I asked after a while longer.

  “Shh,” he hissed.

  That’s when I noticed that the other man, Gabe, wasn’t with us.

  What if that man died?

  He had a wife.

  And kids.

  Oh, my God. It’d be all my fault!

  The sound of Gabe’s voice from somewhere beyond had me breathing a sigh of relief.

  Max finally got off of me, and hauled me effortlessly to my feet.

  Then he proceeded to drag me into the living room, giving me the first good look at my house. And I realized just how close I came.

  “Well,” I said breathlessly. “I don’t think there’s any point in installing that alarm.”

  I’d said that, though, because of the fact that my living room wall resembled Swiss cheese.

  “Jesus,” I breathed.

  Then I turned my head to watch as Gabe entered the room, blood streaming down his arm.

  “You’ve been shot!” I wailed in despair.

  ***

  “Gabe!” A woman’s frantic voice wailed from the doorway.

  I turned to see a beautiful blonde dart across the room, and throw herself into Gabe’s arms.

  I got up quietly, exiting the room as the couple embraced.

  We’d gotten to the hospital less than twenty minutes ago, and I’d sat with Gabe while a doctor looked at the bullet hole on his arm. Something he called a ‘graze.’

  I called it a fucking bullet hole, but who the heck was I to say any differently?

  “Blake!” My ex-husband’s voice called loudly from the entrance.

  I looked up at him and glared.

  Why was he here?

  “Are you okay?” David asked, hurrying up to me.

  I nodded.

  “What’s going on?” David wondered, taking a step forward as if to pull me into his arms.

  I shrank away from him, flinching back out of his reach.

  He didn’t get the privilege to touch me. Not anymore.

  “Blake!” A deep, frantic voice said before a hard body snatched me up.

  My eyes started to water, and I wrapped my arms firmly around Foster’s muscled chest.

  His heart was beating frantically against my ribs, and the tears that I’d been keeping at bay by sheer force of will finally broke free.

  I cried into his shirt. Hard.

  I wasn’t a very attractive crier.

  My eyes got puffy and red, my nose ran, and my face scrunched up into a mass of quivering goo.

  Foster didn’t care what I looked like, though.

  He still held me firmly to his chest, rocking me back and forth.

  His fingers threaded into the knot I had at the top of my head, working the mass of my hair loose.

  He threaded his fingers through it, and held my head in the palm of his hand.

  “Are you okay?” He asked after a while.

  I nodded. “I’m okay.”

  “Your ex-husband looks like he wants to geld me,” he rumbled.

  “My ex-husband is a douche canoe,” I told him honestly.

  He snorted. “Possibly.”

  “How’d you know I was here?” I asked, leaning my head back so I could see his face.

  He raised his eyebrow as if to ask, ‘really?’

  I smiled.

  Clarifying, I said, “What I meant, was that I thought you were out of town today. That’s what your note said.”

  He winked. “I know what you meant. I wasn’t far out of town, though. Just at some continuing education. They were more than willing to let me go when they realized that my girl had her house shot up like a tin can at target practice.”

  My mouth gaped open.

  “Your girl?” I gasped.

  He raised that annoying eyebrow again.

  “I decided,” he confirmed.

  “You decided?” I asked, outrage starting to leak into my voice.

  I, of course, wasn’t that upset about his high handedness.

  I was surprised, though.

  He hadn’t even given me the first inkling other than that kiss last night that he was even interested.

  Then all of a sudden I was his girl?

  “If I gave you the choice you’d have to think about it. And I didn’t want that mind of yours to start thinking, so I just made it myself,” he said bluntly.

  I just shook my head, not knowing what to say.

  I was excited, though.

  Butterflies were roiling in my belly as I said, “We’ll see.”

  He shook his head. “No, we won’t.”

  “Yes, we will.”

  “Won’t.”

  “Will!”

  He raised that stupid brow again, and pulled me close again before placing a soft kiss on my cheek. “Won’t.
”

  “Blake?” My father’s worried voice called from behind me.

  I turned in Foster’s arms, arms that he dropped, allowing me to move away from him slightly to see my father’s worried face.

  “Daddy,” I said, walking towards him.

  He gathered me into his arms, dropping his chin onto the top of my head as he said, “You scared the shit out of me, girl.”

  I squeezed him tightly, feeling the familiar feeling of his Kevlar vest digging into my cheek as I did. “I’m okay.”

  His body shook as he started to cry and I felt horrible.

  My daddy was a big man. A bad ass man.

  But I was also his little girl. His only child. His pride and joy.

  It probably tore him apart to hear that my house had been the location of a drive by shooting. With me inside.

  “Who’s the man?” He asked.

  I turned to see Foster across the room, talking quietly with my uncle, Gabe, and Max.

  My uncle had been the first to arrive.

  I’d gotten the same reception from him.

  “That’s…” Foster? That didn’t sound like enough for him. Hero. The man I’m falling for. The sexiest man in Kilgore, Texas. Those sounded better, yet I knew my dad probably wouldn’t find the same humor I did in it. “That’s Foster.”

  “That the man your mother and you got in a fight about?” He asked, rubbing his stubble across the top of my head.

  I smiled. “He was what started it, yes.”

  “Hmm,” he hummed. “He coming over for dinner tonight?”

  I glanced up at Foster, seeing his eyes on me, and smiled. “Why don’t you ask him?”

  I actually got a little giddy inside when he did just that, walking right up to Foster, and offering him his hand.

  “You the one who had men at her house today?” Dad asked bluntly.

  Foster nodded. “This is Max,” he gestured with his hand. Then said, “And this is Gabe. They’re with Free.”

  My dad shook both man’s proffered hands, and said, “Come to dinner. It’s at one. Both of you, too. Bring the family.”

  With that, he gave my uncle a look, and started to walk away.

  Uncle Darren followed, shooting me an exasperated look.

  Daddy was older than Uncle Darren by five years.

  He was a certified bad ass, and everybody who was anybody knew my dad. Uncle Darren was, and always would be, Shank’s brother.