“Cut his tongue off, Mug,” says Marvin. “He doesn’t need it to open the safe.”
Mr. Glasses almost falls off the couch, he gets up so fast. A moment later he’s heading upstairs with Mug, presumably to the safe. I don’t give a rat’s ass about this guy. I’m still standing in front of Bea, my attention on the kids. Bea and the kids. If I can get them out of this situation alive, I’ll have done my duty. Nothing else matters right now. It sounds like these guys are ex-military, and yeah, I’ve heard about how the military has been using private contractors overseas. Maybe these guys feel shortchanged. Maybe they’re disgruntled about something, feel like they’re owed something. That’s their problem. My only problem is Bea and these kids.
“He’s right, Marv,” comes Mug’s voice from the stairs. A moment later Mr. Glasses stumbles back down to the living room at gunpoint, Mug behind him. “A few hundred dollars in cash, but the rest is just documents. Useless shit.”
“I told you,” says Mr. Glasses smugly. Clearly he doesn’t understand how serious this situation is. Maybe he’s seen too many Hollywood movies where the cavalry always arrives in time. Real life doesn’t work that way. “We’ve got about a thousand more in cash laying about. And you can take the TV and stereo. And our phones.”
“Honey, no! I need my iPhone,” says the wife, and I almost choke in shock that this woman is seriously more protective about her fucking iPhone than her goddamn children! “Just write them a check!”
Marvin laughs, rubbing his forehead and wincing. I’m seeing some cracks in this guy’s cold control. He’s not all there. Something’s broken in him. Takes one to know one. “Yeah, write us a check. We’ll go right to the bank and deposit it. What am I, an idiot?” He turns to Mug again. “Thought I told you to cut his tongue off.” Marvin looks at me, then at his watch, his face hardening. “Never mind, I’m just messing with ya. Too much blood. We don’t got much time to play, anyway.” He takes a breath, his eyes going cold again. Now I know he’s made a decision, and it’s time I make a decision.
“I’ll give you time,” I say, slowly raising my left hand and pointing to my radio. “Let me call in. No one’s gonna show up if I call in and give the all clear. I’ll give you time.”
Marvin frowns as he turns to me, his eyes narrowed like he’s wondering if I’m playing him. I am playing him, but I’m serious about calling in the all-clear. That’s the safest thing to do, in my opinion. Having this place surrounded by cops, FBI, and the goddamn media is almost guaranteed to end in a bloodbath. I got Bea into this by being dumb as a brick, and it’s up to me to get her out.
Finally Marvin nods and motions with his gun, indicating that if I screw him over, I’m taking the first bullet. I nod back, take a breath, and then call in the all-clear. My voice is calm and steady, almost casual. Done. We’re on our own now. It’s up to me. Bea and the kids, Brick. That’s all that matters here. Do your fucking job. Protect your woman.
My woman, comes the thought as I blink at how I’ve straight up assumed that Bea is mine. Mine! Shit, I just pulled this chick over for running a red an hour ago, and now I’m ready to die for her?! Kill for her? Love her?
Love her?
I can hear Marvin saying something to Mr. Glasses again, and Glasses responds like he’s arguing. But my mind is on Bea now, the memory of that kiss almost making me smile. I want to kiss her again, I think, turning my head sideways so I can get a glimpse of her pretty face. I don’t care if I die today so long as I can kiss her again first, make her mine before I go.
“All my money is tied up in long-term investments,” Glasses is saying, shaking his head like he’s in a negotiation. Clearly Marvin has moved on to getting Glasses to withdraw cash from his accounts and hand it over. “The rest is in a college fund for my kids.”
“Yeah, well, you argue any more and your kids won’t need a college fund,” Marvin growls, pointing his gun at the petrified little girl.
I almost leap at Marvin—and in fact I would have if Bea hadn’t silently touched my arm from behind me, like she could sense that I wasn’t going to stand here and watch some asshole threaten a child, that I would die to protect the kid even if her father wouldn’t.
“Hey. Over here, Marvin. Listen, you can have my college fund,” I say, the words coming out so fast I don’t even remember thinking about it. All I care about is getting Marvin’s attention off the little girl. I snort and shrug. “Was always too dumb to get into college, so the money’s just sitting there. Barely even made it through high school.”
Marvin turns and frowns at me. “Your college fund? You’re a street cop, man! What do you have in the bank? Like three hundred bucks and change? Shut the fuck up.”
My mind races as I scan the room. I see a laptop computer on the dining table just past the living room, and I nod toward it. “I’ll prove it. May I?” My tone is commanding, but I’m still courteous. There’s a part of me that wants to just let go and unleash on these assholes, but I know I have to stay in control.
“Yeah, all right,” says Marvin, nodding as if he sees the sincerity in my expression.
I walk over to the laptop and flip it open. A password screen pops up, and I freeze. Shit. I blink and turn toward Mr. Glasses. “Type in your password,” I say to him.
“It’s my wife’s computer,” says Glasses. “Honey, give him your password.”
“Cupcake69,” says his wife after moving her lips silently for a moment like she’s in shock. It’s the only thing she’s said so far. “Cup . . . cupcake.”
I stare and take a breath, turning back to the laptop and looking down at my fingers. My hands are shaking. I can hold a gun steady as a rock, hit a moving target from across a football field. But typing in the word Cupcake? Now that’s a challenge for a dumb fuck named Brick.
I lick my lips and stare down at the keyboard. All the letters are swirling around like it’s alphabet soup. I thought I’d beaten this shit, but clearly I haven’t. Reading and writing has always been a problem for me. It’s the reason I barely made it through school, just about got through the police exam, chose to work a physical job. I’m a man of action, not letters.
“Where’s the fucking C?” I mutter, blinking as I feel beads of sweat on my forehead. I type something and hit Enter, but I just get that beep that reminds me I’m stupid. Now it’s like the computer is laughing at me, everyone is laughing at me, the fucking world is pointing at Brick and saying “What a dumb piece of—”
And then I feel her come up behind me. Bea. My woman. She steps softly behind me, leans past me so close I smell her scent, feel her skin brush against mine, experience a calm like I’ve never had in my life.
“I got you,” she whispers, and I’m almost shattered as I sense the understanding in her voice, the compassion in her tone, the love in how she speaks to me. “I got you, Brick.”
And somehow I know that even though she said “I got you,” what she’s really saying is “I love you.” I know it. I feel it. I want it.
I look at her pretty face, all serious and tensed up but still somehow soft and peaceful. I know she was scared, but I also see a strength in her. Again I experience that strange feeling of the world around us falling away like it’s an illusion, like she and I are the only things that are real, that this is about us and nothing else.
“There,” she says softly, her fingers flying over the keyboard. “Now tell me where to go.”
I tell her my bank’s name and username, and she’s there in a second. Then she looks at me with a raised eyebrow. “What’s your password?” she says.
Color rushes to my face as I take a breath. Now she’s gonna know for sure I’m stupid. No way some smart librarian is gonna want something to do with a dimwit like me.
“I can do it,” I say, reaching for the keyboard. But the letters are still swirling, dancing all over the place, moving like they used to when I was a kid.
; “Just tell me,” she says. “I won’t judge you. Just tell me.”
I take a breath and nod. “11111,” I say in a whisper.
She turns to me, her head cocked slightly. I see the tenderness in her gaze, and I love her for it. It isn’t pity, I know. Pity just makes me angry. Nope, it’s not pity. It’s understanding. It’s acceptance. It’s . . . it’s love. I know it.
It’s love.
7
BEA
OMG I love him, I think as I see the vulnerability in Brick’s dark eyes, feel the relief go through his massive, hard, uniformed body as I type for him. Immediately I understand that this beast of a man is dyslexic, and I almost get teary-eyed when I realize that it’s possible no one ever told him, no one ever cared enough to diagnose him as having a learning disability. He probably grew up thinking he was stupid for not learning as fast as the other kids. Nowadays teachers are quick to notice learning disabilities, but Brick is older than I am.
The computer screen changes color as I log in, and immediately I’m snapped back to reality when I see the numbers staring back at me. I gasp, wondering if this can be right. I don’t know what I was expecting when Brick said he had some money. I do know that I sure as hell wasn’t expecting this!
“Holy shit,” come Marvin’s voice from behind me. “That’s . . . that’s almost a million dollars, Cop!”
“It’s yours,” says Brick without hesitation. “It’ll take twenty-four hours for the bank to have the cash ready for me. I’ll stay with you until then. You let everyone else go now. There’ll never be a police report. I don’t give a shit about the money. We don’t give a shit about you.”
I glance back at Marvin, and I can see that he’s thinking hard. He turns to Glasses and the terrified family and shakes his head. “You’ve all seen our faces,” he says slowly. “You’ll be describing us to sketch artists and scanning through mugshots the moment we let you go.”
“They won’t be calling the police,” I blurt out, not sure how I’m sounding so confident. I look over at Glasses and his family. “They just want this to be over. You haven’t hurt them. You haven’t stolen from them. You know where they live, and they’re scared of you. What’s the other option? You’re going to just shoot us all? Have the best forensics experts in the state all over this place? Have the FBI start a massive manhunt? You think that’s a better plan than to simply trust us and walk away with a million dollars, no strings attached, no police involved?”
“You got a cop right there,” Mug growls from the background, pointing at Brick. He scratches his head with his gun in a way that makes me wonder if he’s all there. “You don’t think he’s gonna file a report? Hah!”
Brick stands and turns to face them. He steps in front of me, and I feel his broad body cast a shadow over me like a shield. I feel protected. I feel safe. I feel like I’m . . . I’m . . . his.
Ohgod, I’m his!
A ripple of excitement goes through me as I stand behind Brick, marveling at how his broad frame perfectly covers my admittedly large body. I can’t help but think back to that kiss, that moment when the world melted away like it was all make-believe, like all of this is just the twisted path that fate takes to bring two lovers together.
“I can’t file a report,” comes Brick’s voice, breaking me from my daydream. “Not after I give you the money.”
“Why not?” says Marvin.
Brick snorts. “How do you think I got all that money?”
It takes them a moment, and then Marvin grins and shakes his head. “A dirty cop!” he says.
“Right,” says Brick, and although I can tell he’s lying, Marvin and Mug clearly believe him. “So you get it now? I can’t report you guys without exposing myself too. Even if I don’t tell anyone about the money, if you guys get caught, then you’ll tell them! So I’d be fucked anyway.” Then he turns to Glasses and the family, narrowing his eyes in a way that almost makes me laugh because it’s so fake. “For the same reason I can’t let these guys file a report. And if they do, I’ll dispute their testimony. Discredit them. Make their lives a living hell.”
Marvin is slowly nodding his head. I look up at Brick, my own eyes narrowing, but in admiration. Brick isn’t dumb at all, I realize. Yes, I know he’s lying about being a bad cop—I just know it. But he’s serious about not reporting them. He’s serious about not giving a shit about the money. He’s a protector, and his instincts to protect me, to protect these kids . . . it’s real and strong. It’s beautiful.
The room is silent for a long, tense moment. Then Marvin nods and exhales. “We gotta roll the dice,” he says. “The bitch and the dirty cop are both right. We kill anyone, and the FBI will hunt us down like dogs. And the cop can’t report us without screwing himself over. All right, Mug. We’re doing this.” He thinks for a moment and then nods again. “It’s gonna take twenty-four hours to get the cash? All right then. Make the withdrawal, Cop. I’m watching.”
But Brick doesn’t move, and I wonder if he’s second guessing himself about handing over his life savings—or wherever that money came from—to some lowlifes.
“You call her a bitch again and I’ll kill you,” Brick says, his voice strained, his anger rising so fast I’m worried that he’s going to leap across the room and get himself killed. I reach out my hand and place it against his hard back, and from the way he stiffens, I know my touch is the only thing that stopped him from losing control. Again I feel that warmth flow through me, and I swallow hard when I realize that Brick is willing to die to protect me, but at the same time is responsive to my touch.
I’m about to say that it doesn’t matter what these assholes call me. Sticks and stones. I’ve been called worse by the kids on the playground back in grade school.
Big Beatrice.
Bea the Bear.
Burly Bea.
Who cares?
He cares, I think as I feel my touch calm Brick down. Slowly he turns back to the computer, his forehead crinkling with concentration as he pecks at the keys to make the withdrawal. Marvin is watching closely, but I can tell the criminal was taken aback by what he saw in Brick in that moment, what he heard in Brick’s tone. He knows, just like I do, that Brick wasn’t kidding. Brick is as capable of taking a life as either of these men.
The realization should terrify me, but it doesn’t. It makes me feel safe, like there’s nothing these men can do to me with Brick around.
“There,” says Brick, leaning back and exhaling like the focus on the numbers and letters was a tremendous effort for him. A moment later a notification pops up on the screen, and Brick’s face goes red as he narrows his eyes and hesitates.
“It says the money will be available at your branch by this time tomorrow,” I say, coming close to Brick and reading for him. I shiver with warm excitement as I feel his body relax. I know he’s relieved that I stepped up and saved him from embarrassment. It’s so silly, but I know it’s meaningful. Somehow it makes me believe that maybe we are made for each other. He’s never been able read properly, and if there’s one thing I can do better than pretty much anyone in the world, it’s read. I’m a librarian, for heaven’s sake.
“Twenty four hours,” Marvin grunts, stepping away and looking at his watch. He glances around the room, his jaw tight. Then he nods, turning to Mug and gesturing at the family, all of whom are still on the couch. “Down to the basement.” He turns back to us. “You two are next.”
I blink and swallow as Mug ushers the family down the stairs to the basement. Ten minutes later he’s back, and then the two of them signal with their guns that it’s time for us to head underground. I take a hesitant step forward, peering down into the basement and feeling a chill go through me. The basement is unfinished, and it looks dark. No windows. And did I say it looked dark?
“We can stay up here,” I say to Marvin. I look toward the window. “The yard is big and there’s a tall hedge nea
r the fence. No one can see us from the street.”
Marvin shakes his head. “No way. There might be folks knocking at the door today and tomorrow: delivery guys, neighbors, friends. Anyone stopping by needs to think there’s nobody home. Basement. Now. Don’t make me ask again.”
I feel Brick step close to me, and a moment later his big arm slides around my waist. I frown and look up at him, and I see his eyes soften. Ohmygod, does he know? Does he know my most embarrassing secret? That even though I’m a strong, independent woman (well, kinda independent—I’m about to be fired and evicted. Oops!), I get claustrophobic in small, dark spaces? I always have. Yeah. I’m basically scared of the dark. There, I said it. To myself, at least.
“You’ll be with me, Bea,” he says softly, with a confidence that almost makes me forget that we’re being held at gunpoint, and we probably don’t get to make the rules. He looks at Marvin, his gaze firm, his voice tight with authority. “She’ll be with me.”
Marvin blinks, and I sense him back down instinctively to Brick’s authority. He thinks for a moment, and then nods. “Laundry room,” he says hoarsely to Mug before turning back to us. “Laundry room,” he says again. Then, after clearing his throat and deepening his voice like this is his idea, he says, “Both of you. Together.”
8
BRICK
At least we’re together, I think as I look around the laundry room in the unfinished basement. It’s basically a fucking storage closet, with no windows. The walls are exposed stone, part of the original foundation. I’m not punching my way out of here.
Satisfied that we’re safe for now at least, I turn my attention to Bea. She’s standing in the middle of the cramped space, staring up at a solitary lightbulb that’s swinging from a wire.
“It’s dead,” she says, a shiver in her voice like she’s trying to control herself. She reaches up and pulls at the string that operates the switch. Just a click and nothing else. “They must have left it on when they went on vacation. Idiots. How do you not turn off the lights before you leave the house?!”
Curvy for Him: The Librarian and the Cop Page 4
