Curvy for Him: The Librarian and the Cop

by Winters, Annabelle

  I snap back into focus so fast that I almost black out, and then I feel my throat seize up as I realize I just ignored all my fucking training, violated every damned protocol, just made the biggest mistake of my life. Perhaps the last mistake of my life. Did I seriously just stroll up to the front door and ring the bell?! What I should have done is come around the side of the house, look through a window to see what was going on in there, if there were any signs of forced entry, any signs of violence. Home invasion is a real thing, and it’s dangerous as fuck. In home invasions, the perps usually aren’t messing around. In home invasions, the perps go in planning to kill everyone in the house.

  “Hey Marvin,” growls the perp who’s got the gun in my face. His eyes are locked in on mine, and his hand is steady. I’m a big guy, but I can move fast as a cat. I can pull a gun from a guy in less than a second. But this mofo knows what he’s doing. He’s standing just far enough from me that I’ll take a faceful of lead before I get to him. I fucked up big, and now I have no choice but to stand down. “Marvin,” the guy says again, his gray eyes cold as steel as he stares at me. “This shit just got serious. Like kill-a-cop serious.”

  I stand stiff as a wall, my arms off to each side, hands in plain view. I didn’t even remember to unbutton my holster-strap before I rang the doorbell like a dimwit. I’d be shot down before I get my gun out, even if I’m fast as hell diving off to the side of the door and turning this into a shootout. I’ve got my vest on under my shirt, but this asshole’s too close to miss my big head. I’m done for. It’s fucking over.

  I blink as I feel a strange sadness go through me. I’ve never been afraid of death. Hell, as a teenager I had a goddamn death wish, with all the crap I pulled. It takes me a moment to realize that I’m still not scared of death. This isn’t fear rippling through me. It’s . . . it’s yearning. A desperate need to reach for the future that I saw before my eyes, the future I saw in her eyes.

  Bea.

  Bea and me.

  Always and forever.

  I’m not going to die today, I think as I feel a cold confidence roll through me as I stare back into the gray eyes of the guy who’s got me at gunpoint. And then all my training comes back to me, all the years of preparing for a scenario like this.

  “What now?” I say, my voice calm but steady. I don’t want to challenge this guy, but I do want to push him just a little, force him to make a decision, see if he loses his nerve. From what he said, he knows that killing a cop takes this shit to the next level. You kill a cop and we’ll never stop looking for you. You’ll never be safe again.

  “Please, join us,” comes a voice that I assume is Marvin. From his tone I call tell he’s in charge here. “I got him, Mug. You go check the perimeter for his partner.”

  A chill goes through me as I put together the information I’m getting just from this. They’re using names, and that’s a bad sign. It means they aren’t planning to leave any witnesses. They’re using terms like perimeter, which could mean they have some training. Maybe military? Also a bad sign. I can match up with any asshole in hand-to-hand combat, but this ups the difficulty level.

  But all of that fades away in an instant, because the thought that really makes me tremble is what Marvin said about finding my partner. I don’t have a partner—in this town they only send us out in pairs for certain beats. But I do have someone in my car. Someone precious.

  I hold my poker face even as I feel my body tense up at the thought of Bea being taken by these goons. I tell myself that I parked on the next block, so maybe Mug will look around and simply assume I came on foot. Then eventually Bea will get tired of waiting, won’t she? She’ll sense something is wrong. She’ll call for help. At the very least, she’ll get herself out of there.

  Marvin gestures with his head for me to step into the house, and I do it. I think about trying something, rolling the dice that Marvin doesn’t score a head shot. A few gunshots will alert the neighbors, and someone will call 911. But then what? There could be more of them inside. They could have a family as hostages. These guys will just shoot everyone else in the house and get the hell out. Not a good ending.

  “No black-and-white in sight,” Mug reports as I step into the house and quickly survey the scene. Everything looks clean and in place. No signs of violence or struggle. No blood stains on the carpet. Nobody’s dead yet, I can feel it. “No sign of anyone else out there either. Maybe he walked here.”

  “No partner, but he has a car. I see his keys. He’ll have parked a block away,” says Marvin without turning from me. He glances down at my equipment belt and motions with his head. “Gun, nightstick, TASER, radio, and keys, please.” He calls out to Mug as I toss everything onto the coffee table. “Take his keys. Enter from the passenger side front door. Reach in and turn off the dashboard-cam. Then bring the car around back and stash it in the garage.”

  I close my eyes and bite my lip. Mug takes the keys with a lopsided grin and heads for the back door. All I can do now is hope that Bea sees him coming, senses something’s wrong, and either calls for help or gets the fuck out of there.

  5

  BEA

  “How do I get out of here?!” I gasp, pulling on the door handles of both back doors. I look for the unlock levers, but there aren’t any. Then I remember that cop cars are designed so you can’t open the back doors from the inside!

  I frantically look back through the rear window. I can see the man walking towards me. He’s trying to act casual, but he’s trying too hard. He’s dressed in black, and he’s got gloves on. This is a nice neighborhood, and no way this guy is out for a stroll in the middle of summer dressed like that.

  “Relax,” I say to myself, fumbling in my bag for my flip-phone. With trembling fingers I dial 911 as the man gets closer. I can see that he has a set of keys in his right hand. Brick’s keys. I saw Brick take them with him when he left. “Come on. Come on. Come on!”

  But I hear nothing but a beep from my phone, and I frown and stare at the screen in disbelief.

  “No Service,” says the phone like it’s mocking me.

  I move the phone closer to the window, holding it as high as I can, trying to give it a direct line to the sky so it can pick up a satellite signal even though I have no clue how this old phone works. But still no service, and I just scream and fling the phone at the partition in front of me, yelping as it bounces off the bulletproof glass and clocks me right on the forehead!

  My head is spinning, and I’m panicking. Freaking the hell out. I rub my forehead and awkwardly turn on my ass, raising my legs and kicking at the window in some vague hope that I can break the glass and reach for the outside door handle. But all I do is twist my ankle on the thick window glass, and then I’m just a wreck, trembling and whimpering like I’m a trapped kitten about to be slaughtered. I want Brick. I want him now. Why isn’t he here?!

  The moment I think of Brick I feel a calmness wash over me, and I blink as I feel myself getting back in control. Suddenly I decide it’s going to be all right. All of this is part of a plan: Running the red light, getting pulled over by Brick, getting locked in the car, my phone thumbing its nose at me with that “Oops! No Service, honey!” message. Yup, it’s part of a big ol’ plan. Fate. Destiny. Meant-to-be. Happily ever after.

  I feel a smile break on my face, and I decide that I’ve certifiably gone insane. No one knows how they’ll react in a crisis, and clearly I’m one of those who just goes crazy in the weirdest damned way. Maybe my mind has just broken away from reality, which is why I’m smiling and telling myself that this is the beginning of some fated love story and not the end of my miserable little life.

  “Well, hello, Darling,” comes the man’s voice from the front seat, and I swallow hard and watch as he reaches a long, tattooed arm into the car and flips off the dashboard-cam. “You been a bad girl today? Whoring yourself on the streets of our nice town?”

  He doesn’t
wait for an answer, and a few seconds later he’s walked around and slipped into the driver’s seat. I’m still swallowing hard, breathing deep, that crazy smile still on my face as he slowly pulls the car down the alley and drives into the open garage behind the house. A moment later the garage doors come down, and everything goes dark until the automatic lights flicker on.

  A million thoughts bombard me like a hail of bullets as the man pulls open the back door and I step out like I’m in a dream. I’m almost puzzled by how calm I feel. I know it’s insane, because I’m probably going to be raped and murdered in a few minutes, but I still feel like this was all meant to happen, that this is Brick and my story, this is our path to someplace special, that nobody can take this from us so long as we hold on to our faith.

  Then I enter the house and I see Brick, standing tall and broad in the center of the room, his ruggedly handsome face twisting in anguish at the sight of me being held at gunpoint. And then that calmness is gone, and I feel the panic grip me from the inside like tentacles, squeezing the breath from me as I blink and stumble.

  “Bea,” he says, stepping forward and catching me before I fall on my fat face. “It’s going to be all right, Bea. I’m going to take care of this. I’m going to take care of you. I’m going to take care of us.”

  I blink as I stare up into his big dark eyes that I swear are glowing with love, like we’re in love, have always been in love, will always be in love. There are two guns pointed at us, but I feel invincible, like I’m protected by a cloak of pure magic, protected by the shield of unbreakable fate, protected by what I’m sure is our destiny, our forever.

  Protected by him, I think as I hold on to Brick’s thick arms, feel his hard body against my soft curves, inhale his masculine musk which calms me down like a drug. I look up into his eyes again and the world melts away, making me believe that everything happening around us is just an illusion, all make-believe, just background to our story, the oldest story in the library of man and woman:

  The story of love.

  And then, as if to prove my madness true, as if to certify that I’m hallucinating, to verify that I’m seeing things that can’t possibly be real, Brick kisses me. He slides his arms around my waist, pulls me against his body so hard I gasp, leans down from his towering height and just kisses me! Hard, on the lips, with authority that I know comes from the stars above, the earth below, the sun and the moon and everything in between.

  He kisses me.

  By God, he kisses me.

  6

  BRICK

  I hear the clicks of guns being cocked, the voices of Marvin and Mug in the background. But it’s all just background noise. It doesn’t matter. I’m lost in the moment, lost in this woman, lost in this kiss.

  The feeling of her soft curves against my body makes me groan out loud, and I swear I feel her contours fit perfectly against my ridges of muscle like we were designed as a pair, built to fit with each other. I ain’t never been the spiritual sort, but fuck, this woman is making me believe . . . believe in something.

  I break from the kiss, its power still possessing me. I feel like Bea’s kiss has turned me into a superhero, and I almost leap at these two dickheads with my new superpowers. Surely the bullets will bounce off me. They’ve taken my gun, but I don’t need a gun. I’ll crack their skulls wide open with my goddamn knuckles! Rip their throats out with my hands! Eat their goddamn hearts like a beast of the jungle!

  “Brick,” comes her voice from behind me, and I blink as I realize I’m standing in front of Bea, my shoulders squared, my chest and arms spread wide in a protective stance. “Don’t be a fool.”

  My head swirls as I feel anger rise up in me so fast I swear the world turns red. But Bea is right, and I force myself to take deep breaths, circular breathing using my diaphragm, just like they teach you in training. Slowly I calm down and nod, holding my position in front of Bea. My focus returns, and I see the guns still pointing at me. Mug and Marvin look like they can’t believe what just happened, which is probably why I’m still alive.

  “Un-fucking-believable,” says Marvin, shaking his head slowly even though his gun-hand stays steady. “What have we here? A cop and his woman?”

  “His whore,” sneers Mug. “She was in the backseat, Marv.”

  “Say that one more time,” I growl at Marvin, that anger rising up in me again, the world turning that shade of red again. “Go on, asshole. Just one more time.”

  “And you’ll do what?” snaps Mug, his gray eyes locking in on mine.

  “You won’t shoot,” I growl. “Neither of you will. One gunshot, and it’s game over for you guys. You know that. I know that. And Marvin knows that.”

  Mug takes a step closer to me, and for the first time I see his hand shake. This guy might crack if I push him. Good to know.

  “Stand down, Mug,” says Marvin, his tone low and commanding. Now I’m sure this guy is ex-military. “Not yet.” He glances at me and nods. “Down in the basement, both of you. Slowly. Do what I say, and maybe you two will walk out of here.”

  I know he’s lying, but I also know I need to buy some time. I was sent here by Central Dispatch, and if I don’t call back in soon, they’ll follow up. When I don’t respond, they’ll check my dashboard cam and see that it’s been turned off. Then they’ll check the on-board GPS and see that my last location was right outside this house. I figure we’ve got less than thirty minutes before backup arrives. I also figure this guy Marvin knows that.

  I glance over at the stairs leading to the basement, and then I shake my head. I’m not going down there. We go down there, we aren’t coming back up. Think, Brick. Fucking think! Use the information you have. What do you know so far?

  I frown as I realize that I do know something. It’s not what I saw. It’s what I didn’t see. The house looked spotless when I walked in. No food on the table. No depressions on the couch where the family might have been sitting. No smell of fresh coffee or flapjacks or breakfast sausage from the kitchen.

  “There’s no one else here,” I blurt out as the realization hits me. “This isn’t a home invasion. It’s just a burglary!”

  I see Marvin flinch, and I think maybe I’m not that dumb after all. Suddenly I know I’ve got the upper hand, even though there are two guns pointed at me. These guys are capable of murder, but they didn’t come in here planning to kill. That makes a difference. That gives me a shot. It gives us a shot.

  “Correction,” says Marvin, quickly regaining his cold, deadpan look. “This was a burglary. It’s now a hostage situation. Basement, both of you. Now.”

  “Brick, let’s just—” Bea starts to say from behind me.

  “No,” I say, reaching my arm back and placing it on her side. Just touching her does something to me, and I blink and swallow hard, keeping my eyes on Marvin. “All right, listen,” I start to say to him, feeling my confidence come back as if just being connected to Bea is making me all-powerful, all-knowing, in control of the world and everyone in it. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re going to—”

  But I’m interrupted by the sound of the front door opening, and I whip around and stare in horror. And it truly is a horrible sight, like it’s the universe flipping me off, reminding me that I’m not in control at all.

  “Fuck me,” I groan as I stare at the stunned family of four standing in the doorway, their eyes wide, mouths hanging open, arms full of crap from some beach vacation, all of them gaping at the surreal scene playing out in their living room.

  I don’t even need to look at Marvin to know that he understands the game has changed. And then I feel a wave of despair wash over me as Mug and Marvin usher the parents and kids into the living room and sit them down on the couch. The parents are just staring blankly at the guns like they’re in a trance. The kids—one boy and one girl—are trembling as they look at the guns, and then at their parents like they’re looking for some assuranc
e that this is just a game, make-believe or something. The parents are in shock, I can tell. Maybe they’re jet-lagged or something. Maybe this is just how they’re reacting to the crisis—by shutting the fuck down. Still, it pisses me off. These parents should be pulling their kids close, not staring blankly like it’s someone else’s job to protect their children! Reminds me of my own loser parents, I think as anger whips through me.

  I’m about to say something to the children, but just then the kids turn to me and Bea, their innocent eyes focusing on us. I cock my head as I’m reminded of that vision of having babies with Bea. Didn’t I see a boy and a girl in that strange fantasy that felt like a glimpse into the future, into my future, our future?

  “Well, this makes things a bit easier,” Marvin says with a grin, but there’s an edge to his voice that worries me. “We don’t need to break into the safe anymore. Man of the house can just open it for us.”

  “Safe?” says the so-called man of the house, the first words he’s spoken. Immediately I hate the fucker. The mention of money is what gets this guy to focus? What kind of a man is he? What kind of a father? “There’s no money in there.”

  “No money in the safe. Right,” says Mug with a snort. “What are we, morons? Where’s all the dirty money you made selling out our military? We know you ain’t paying taxes on that shit.”

  The man pushes his glasses up his nose and scratches his bald head. I see a smugness settle on his face, and my breath catches as I feel my disdain for this guy rise. “Maybe you are morons if you think anything I did was illegal. I’m a defense contractor. My company provides services to the U.S. Department of Defense, and we get paid for those services. Now, if you’ve got a complaint against the government, you can simply—”