Finding Peace (Rollin On Book 4)

by Emilia Finn

  “Where are we going?”

  “Search and rescue,” Jim says, but the smile on his face lets me know this isn’t an emergency or anything.

  “I don’t get it.”

  “Mike just called. The girls have left the club, gone for a walk and apparently they’re drunk as fuck.”

  “It’s a wonder we’ll ever let them out again,” Jon grumbles stupidly. I don’t think he has a choice. He and Tink are just friends, after all.

  “Pains in the damn ass,” Bobby agrees. “But it means we get to go search for them. I was hoping we’d get to go out. I wanna dance with my wife again.”

  “Me too.” Jimmy rubs his hands together and I smirk at Jon’s face turned sour.

  “Alright,” Bobby continues. “Jack’s got the little girls. Let’s go find our big girls.”

  “Have fun.”

  “Couple more years, Jack, and you and Steph can come with us.”

  “Maybe we’ll take you to one of the lame eighteen clubs next year, just so you can drink lemonade and listen to loud music,” Jim teases.

  Jack rolls his eyes. “I’m gonna put Bean down in the spare room. If you’re not back for a while, I’ll sleep on your couch.”

  “You’re the best, Jack. See ya!” Jim claps him on the shoulder and after I grab my wallet and keys, I follow my three eager brothers, since they know they’ll be with the girls soon. Can’t say I’m not excited about the same thing. I’d like to dance with my girl too.

  Twenty Seven

  Tina

  Go into the light

  “Quick, in here.” Tink pulls us into a dingy alleyway down the side of the drugstore we just ran out of, holding our paper bag of what anyone watching us would assume contains illegal drugs.

  It doesn’t.

  It’s a four pack of pregnancy tests.

  We’ve been gone for about fifteen minutes, so even if Mike wasn’t calling the guys before, he would have by now. He’s such a cry baby.

  Although, I don’t even mind if the guys come rolling in. I miss Aiden anyway. I’d like to dance with him, I want him to hold me in his strong arms, against his broad chest, where my fingers can play with his pretties through his shirt.

  Yeah, I definitely wouldn’t mind seeing him right now. I might even let him fuck me in the bathroom. And he’d be all for it, because he likes it when I’m naughty like that. He holds me just hard enough, he spanks me, he fucks me hard enough that the hurt feels really damn good.

  Mmm, yeah. Maybe I’ll call him if Mike hasn’t yet.

  “Here.” Kit yanks me out of my fantasies as she shoves a test in my hands, then she passes one to Iz and Tink. We stand there awkwardly in a dark alleyway, lined up like we’re criminals waiting to be identified, and we’re about to drop trow and start peeing.

  Well, not trousers exactly, but we are going to pee in this alleyway, with stinky dumpsters and the cliché stray cats, because our alcohol addled brains didn’t stop to think we could use the perfectly good toilets back at 188.

  I’m not nervous or worried. I wouldn’t say pregnancy is impossible, since conception after sex is always a possibility, but I’ve never missed taking my pill. I’ve never had any late periods, I’ve never had any accidents… except that one time.

  And even if I am, which I really don’t think I am, but if I was, I’d deal. For Aiden, I’d deal. I might even talk to him about going to the authorities or something, to tell them what I know and to explain I’m scared for my life. For my daughter’s life.

  Perhaps they’ll arrest Sean, or maybe they’ll somehow grant me a new identity. They did that in the Simpson’s that time. Maybe my new name can be Max Power… I don’t know how it works, but the alcohol in my system insists it’ll work out.

  It would be so much easier if I was allowed to assassinate him. Lame rules and shit.

  “Alright,” Tink starts as we all hold our tests in front of us like they were loaded guns. “We’re doing this together. You all gotta pee, right?”

  Everyone nods their heads so she nods hers. “Okay. Squat, ladies.”

  Taking the caps off the ends of the tests, we all lower ourselves using the wall to prop us up, this exact position a stupid exercise the guys make us do at the gym. My thighs are burning already and I laugh, but I stay upright, a major feat considering our stupidly high high heels and our drunken state.

  The instant relief of emptying my bladder feels good.

  So good.

  So good in fact I close my eyes and smile.

  Simple pleasures for a drunken woman. My eyes snap open however, at the sound of the police sirens whooping at the end of the alleyway and the flash lights blinding us.

  “Don’t even think about running away, ladies.”

  Twenty Eight

  Aiden

  The Po-Po Go Low-Low

  “Hang on.” I stop the guys’ progress along the sidewalk as my phone rings in my pocket. It was all fun and games for the first half an hour of not knowing where the girls were, because despite our tendency to freak over small shit, we know they’re competent women, two of them formally fight trained, and it’s fairly likely they’re okay.

  We arrived at 188 to Mike waiting for us, and he told us the girls still hadn’t come back. That was about thirty minutes after he said they left.

  Instead of waiting at the club, we decided to go for a walk down Main Street to see if we could find them, but they were nowhere to be seen. The drug store Mike said they were going into was empty, and the street around it had a couple cruisers picking up some trouble makers anyway, so we couldn’t stick around.

  We walked another lap of the street, then we walked into the next block, thinking maybe they’d gone around. I don’t know why they would do that, but these girls are fucking crazy, so it wasn’t in even in the realm of unlikely.

  I hit the green icon on my phone, frowning at the local but unknown number as it flashes across my screen. “Aiden Kincaid.”

  “Mr. Kincaid, this is Chief Cordero with the SMPD.”

  “Who is it?” Jim hits my ribs to get my attention, and I kick my leg out to shut him up.

  “Yeah, hey.” This feels bad. “Can I help you?”

  “Yes. I have a few ladies here who claim to be related to you. They were each offered a phone call, but they all elected, loudly, that I should call you and not their husbands.”

  “Are they okay?”

  “What’s up?” Bobby demands, worry replacing the indulgent banter from a few minutes ago.

  I hold my finger up for him, trying to hear the cop on the phone. “They’re fine. They’re drunk. And they require a ride home.”

  “What happened?”

  “They were arrested--”

  “Arrested?”

  “What the fu--” Bobby begins, trying to snatch the phone from my hands, but I cut him off again when Cordero speaks.

  “Arrested. For public lewdness. I’m not sure they understand the implications, but if they weren’t so damn funny, I could charge them. Did you know public urination is a crime, Mr. Kincaid, and they could be registered as sex offenders?”

  “Ah, yeah, I did know that. I’m pretty sure they mentioned that in sex ed.”

  “Yeah, well, they need a ride home. I’ve already processed them, they’re good to go. Perhaps talk to them tomorrow when they’re sober and explain that it might not be so funny next time.”

  “Yes sir. We’re on our way.”

  Twenty Nine

  Tina

  Blue Lines

  “Down this way.”

  My head snaps up when I hear quiet voices, then standard cop shoes slapping against the worn linoleum floor as he walks closer to our cell.

  Our cell.

  We’re in a damn police cell.

  And we can’t stop laughing like idiots.

  “Oh no,” Kit exclaims on a snort when we hear more than two sets of feet. We hear a heap of them. If I had to guess, I’d say there were four grown fighters, plus a Cordero.

&
nbsp; Oh dear.

  “Three Kincaid’s and an Irvine who swears her name is Tinkerbelle.”

  “Yeah, they’re ours.”

  “You must be Peter Pan then.”

  Jon grunts at his joke and we all snicker again. “Yeah. That sounds about right.”

  I watch as Bobby enters our sight first, his face saturated with worry, then worry turning to smug satisfaction when he spots Kit on the end of the bench. She’s leaning her head on Tink’s shoulder and singing about Incey Wincey Spiders.

  She keeps screwing up the hands and having to start again.

  “You girls look good in chains.” Jim teases as he stops beside Bobby with a stupid ass grin on his face. “You look good, Bubs. Maybe we should borrow the cuffs.”

  “Dude!” Jon hits him, forcing the girls to choke on their laughter all over again, but Jim doesn’t mind. He thinks this whole situation is hilarious.

  “Peaches.”

  My face snaps across the lineup of guys and I work not to let drool slip out the corner of my mouth as my eyes follow his long and muscular jean clad legs, then over his pecs that sit up just right, then onto Aiden’s sexy as fuck jaw, his day old stubble, his mischievous smirk.

  Yeah. I’d let him fuck me in the bathroom. “Yes honey?” I flutter my lashes at him then almost fall off my end of the bench when Iz shoves me.

  “You okay?”

  I smile and twirl my hair around my finger. “Yeah.”

  “Love you.”

  “Awww,” Iz coos loudly and Aiden’s smirk fights to transform into a full blown smile. “My big brother is in love. I love you, Aiden. I love you too, Tina.”

  “Love you too, Sissy.”

  “Can we leave now?” Tink asks, but the guys rest against the wall in the hallway, getting comfortable and kicking their feet across their ankles. They’re so fucking sexy. I don’t think there’s been a single time that one of them hasn’t been bruised, and tonight is no exception. I see Aiden’s jaw. And Jon’s knuckles. And Bobby’s left eye. Jimmy looks fine, but I’d bet he probably has bruised shins or ribs.

  My hands itch for my camera despite my inebriation, or perhaps because of it. I want to take this exact picture as they all lounge casually around a cop shop, with their dangerous bruising and dancing eyes.

  “Nope.” Jon flicks his bottom lip between his teeth. “We’re thinking you guys should spend the night. Sober up. Learn what happens to good little girls who do dumb shit.”

  “We didn’t do anything dumb.”

  “I heard differently,” another voice, a strangers voice enters the crowded hallway then he stops and leans beside Bobby.

  Recovering from his surprise, Bobby turns and shakes his hand. “Holy shit, Bowers. Long time no see.”

  “That’s good news, Bobby. I like you guys, but I like even more not having to see you. Means you’re okay.”

  “Officer Bowers?” Kit asks wondrously, sitting forward and squinting her eyes to see clearer.

  “Ah,” he smiles with a fatherly gleam in his eyes. “There she is. You look good. A hell of a lot better than last time I saw you. At least you’re awake.”

  “Barely,” she mumbles on another giggle, then slumps back and rests against Tink. “I’m ready to go to bed now.”

  “Yeah, you know, I heard your names over my radio,” Bowers explains with an amused smile. “I heard and I ran over here, literally ran, because I wanted to see you in lock up.”

  He claps Bobby on the shoulder as all the guys stand against the wall and chuckle, and I feel my lip drop into a pout. I suddenly feel like a zoo exhibit, the way we’re all sitting here against the far wall, and all the guys stay on the other side laughing at our expense.

  I mean, yeah, we’d do the exact same thing if the roles were reversed, but where’s the chivalry? Where’s Nelly slapping their heads for being ungentlemanly? Maybe we should have called her instead.

  “So you have to know I checked out the reports, to know why you’re in here,” Bowers continues smugly. “And I have to say, I’m a little disappointed. Peeing in public. Really girls?”

  “We really had to go?” Tink suggests on another giggle and Jon’s smile almost breaks free before he drops his head again, fighting it.

  I don’t know why he does that, or why Aiden often does. The grumps should learn to smile. It’s fun!

  “Alright kids,” yet another strange person enters the fray, a beat cop that was riding with Cordero. “It’s time to get out.”

  “I think they should stay,” Aiden says, winking at me and my smile in return earns a sexy smirk.

  “Yeah,” Jim agrees. “Leave them here, it’s quieter at home now anyway.”

  “Can’t, we need the space.” He shrugs, as though if they didn’t need the space, he’d happily leave us in here. “I have your personal belongings.” He produces little clear baggies with our phones, purses, lipsticks, and ironically enough, tampons, which elicits a whole new round of giggles.

  “And this one.” He holds up another bag and it takes me a moment, and some eye squinting to realize he’s holding up our bag of pee sticks.

  Oh dear.

  I totally forgot about those.

  Thirty

  Jon

  This Can’t Be Happening

  “What the hell is that?” Aiden demands, but Bobby figures it out immediately, quickly pushing away from the wall and jumping into action. Shoving past Bowers, then me, then pushing Jim out of the way, he rips open the already unlocked cell door and rushes inside.

  The girls are so drunk they didn’t even realize they weren’t actually locked in.

  Bobby rushes to Kit and picks her up, the momentum so swift, I watch as Case slumps down, falling where Kit’s body was previously holding her up.

  “Baby? Are you okay?”

  “Put me down,” Kit moans. “I’m gonna hurl. You’re swooshing the vodka.”

  “Shit, sorry.” He sets her down, tucking her under his arm then he storms back to the cell door and snatches the bag from the cop’s hands.

  Tina, Case and Izzy remain sitting on the bench, no longer giggling, their faces bone white.

  “There’re four tests. Four.” Bobby announces as ten sets of eyes land on him.

  “Holy shit.”

  I watch as Izzy stands shakily, still drunk, or nervous? And she walks to the door. Jimmy pushes past me and strides in, taking her against his chest and murmurs in her ear and she starts nodding, holding him tight.

  Everyone else’s drama pales in my mind though. My head is boiling. The sound of waves roars in my ears. My vision is fading to red. I hold myself together with fisted hands as my body breaks out in sweat. I need to know. I fucking need to know. Now. “Whose are they?”

  “Ours,” Kit answers quietly, gulping shakily.

  “Whose though?”

  “All of ours,” Tina answers with terrified wide eyes. “We all peed on a stick.”

  “Peaches.” Aiden moves into the cell, stopping in front of her and crouching down so his eyes meet hers as she stays seated. “Are you pregnant?”

  “No.” She shakes her head and pushes her not so sleek hair behind her ears. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. We all peed because Kit was sad and it was better than murdering Sean.”

  “What?”

  “What do they say?” Bowers asks from beside me, still on the outside of the cell, his voice giddy with excitement. The complete and total opposite to mine. I’m fucking furious.

  I look up to study Case as she tucks her knees against her chest, her face resting on her arms. I’m livid about this shit. “Did you pee too?”

  I don’t say her name, but she knows I’m speaking to her. She gulps nervously and sweat drips down my spine. We’ve talked about this. No babies. No commitment. No forever. Not ever.

  I can’t give her those things, and she went into this knowing the score. I’m not made for love, for family. I told her from the start that I have nothing to offer her but friendship and a willing dick to sit
on sometimes.

  “We all peed,” Kit repeats. I turn my angry glare to Kit, then back to the mostly deserted bench as Casey hugs her legs tighter.

  I try not to spit, but it’s useless. I’m shaking with rage. “We talked about this.”

  “I know!” she snaps, dropping her nerves and glaring back at me. There’s her fire, the fire she barely tucks away for more than three minutes at a time. It’s cute when it’s cute. It’s a pain in my fucking ass when it’s not. “I know, Jon! Relax. I just peed to make Kit feel better. Check the damn tests. They’ll be negative.”

  “Ah, actually--” Bobby flips the bag over in his hand, studying each digital face. His own face flashes, dims, confusion, dims, flashes again.

  Put me out of my damn misery already.

  “Two positive, two negative.”

  “Fuck!”

  Thirty One

  Aiden

  Test again

  “Whose is whose?”

  “We don’t know,” Kit says quietly, her face whiter than anyone else’s in the room.

  We’ve all come back to our place, since Jack and the babies are here, and now we’re all sitting around the living room as though we’re attending a funeral.

  I don’t understand the underlying bad vibes. I know Kit and Bobby were trying, so this is good news. Hopefully.

  Iz and Jim weren’t, but they’ve mentioned trying again after Bean’s first birthday. Bean is such a beautiful dream baby, I know they’re keen to make her siblings, despite their age.

  Tina and I… haven’t discussed it. But I definitely wouldn’t be sad. I plan to eventually make babies with her, so now’s as good a time as any.

  Jon and Tink though, are a whole other story. Jon looks like he’s about to lose his fucking shit. And Tink looks like she’s about to cry one second, then about to stab him with a blunt spoon the next.