Make Me

by Vale, Lani Lynn

  His pain-filled grimace had me thinking that he needed to lie down.

  Possibly get some rest and recover from almost dying.

  “Thanks,” he muttered.

  I turned to Tellings.

  “I’m not staying with him,” I told him bluntly. “I have my own place. My dad and brother don’t live with me.”

  Tellings nearly rolled his eyes.

  “Why do you think I said you needed to stay with him?” Tellings wondered. “Your father would be devastated if anything happened to you.”

  I couldn’t hold the burst of laughter that jolted free of me, shaking my small frame with the intensity.

  In fact, I laughed so hard and long that tears of hilarity started to glisten in the corner of my eyes. By the time I was done and had myself under control, I was wheezing right along with Justice.

  “I’m sorry,” I said once I got control of myself. “It’s just that the idea of you thinking my father would give one half of a shit about me is just rich. Ahhhh, I think he’s told me on more than one occasion that he wished it was me that was paralyzed in our accident and not my brother.”

  That was when the two other men in the room, a silent black man that was gorgeous and older with sexy salt and pepper hair, and an unsmiling Asian man who looked to be in his mid-to-late-forties entered the conversation.

  “I think,” the Asian man said, “that it would be best to cover her anyway, whether she wants to believe she’s important to The Judge or not.” He paused. “Because it doesn’t matter if you do or don’t want to believe you’re important to him. He’s got an image to uphold, and that means that if you’re hurt, he still has to play the part. That part being ripping us new assholes and tearing us to shreds.”

  “Agreed,” the sexy black man said. “Yao is right. I propose around-the-clock surveillance at her place for the next week at least, or she stays with Rector.”

  Who the hell was Rector?

  “She can’t stay with me,” Justice said. “I only have a one-bedroom cabin out in the woods with no couch. Also, I’m not sure what I’d do with her for the days that I’m working.”

  “Actually,” Yao said. “That just might work. She stays with you, but she makes herself very visible around town. I want y’all to show your faces. If Marcus knows that he has the entirety of KPD at your back…”

  “Making it look like y’all are a couple.” Tellings nodded in understanding. “And when you’re working, she can stay here. I’m sure I can find something for her to do.”

  “What part of one-bedroom cabin did you not understand?” I asked bluntly. “I’m not sleeping on the floor.”

  Been there, done that. Had the t-shirt.

  I was not fond of sleeping on the floor. Not at all.

  When I’d moved out of my father’s house, I barely had two pennies to rub together.

  I’d literally had enough money for first and last month’s rent, food for the first week, and that was it. Honestly, I was lucky that utilities had been paid with the rent, otherwise I wouldn’t have made it.

  But I had made it. I’d made it by sleeping on the floor of my apartment for six months while I saved up enough money to buy a mattress. I made it, and I was not going back there again.

  Not now, not ever.

  “Round the clock surveillance will put a strain on police resources,” Luke said, eyes coming straight to me. “It’s either Justice or you go home to your father where we know you’ll be safe.”

  I snorted. “My father won’t want me there.”

  And before I could tell him why, Luke had his phone out and was dialing someone.

  I was unsurprised when my father answered.

  Even more unsurprised when, after Luke explained the entire situation, he started spouting nasty words.

  “…She needs to stay away from my home,” The Judge began. “She dug her grave, she can lie in it.”

  Justice stiffened at my side.

  “Sir,” Luke started.

  “No,” The Judge continued. “She can’t come here. In fact, I’m glad that you called. It’ll be the perfect reason for Jimmy to quit his uncouth job on that godforsaken street. Even better that you were able to get her off of it. Now I can take care of that shit hole myself without worrying that she’ll try to save it.”

  I stiffened then.

  “Don’t you fucking dare,” I growled.

  I knew what he was about to do, and I didn’t agree with it at all.

  “Stratton will sell,” The Judge said. “You might want to start looking for alternate places to work that are a little more becoming to the station that you hold as my daughter.”

  I snorted.

  “I would think that if you wanted me to ‘become my station’ that you would actually care about me and my safety,” I gritted out. “Don’t do this.”

  “It’s already done,” The Judge said. “And just remember, you brought this on yourself.”

  Before he could hang up like I knew he intended to do, I said one last thing.

  “I will literally become a stripper if it pisses you off,” I told him. “You think that me working as a welder is bad? I can make it worse.”

  The Judge laughed. “Nobody would hire you.”

  The confidence in his voice made me believe him.

  Everyone did his bidding—at least he thought they did, anyway. It wouldn’t surprise me if he was right.

  He’d probably sit down and talk to every single strip club within a fifty-mile radius and threaten their businesses if they hired me.

  One of the big reasons that I’d worked for Stratton at all was because I knew that it pissed him off. And Stratton was a one of a kind man that couldn’t be scared into anything.

  A thought hit me then, and I quickly offered up my proposal.

  “I’ll stay away if you let Marta help with Jimmy,” I said.

  The Judge opened his mouth and was already replying in the negative when I said, “Jimmy’s going to be pissed. He won’t stay away from me.”

  “You’ll ignore his calls?” The Judge asked flatly.

  “Yes.”

  “You’ll not call. Not Text. Not come by for a visit? You’ll go the opposite direction if you see him in town?” he pushed.

  It burned something down deep to agree, but I did so anyway.

  The ‘yes’ felt like it was torn from my soul.

  “Deal. Good luck,” The Judge said. Then hung up.

  The silence in the air was deafening as I said, with a little less vigor this time, “He won’t care.”

  “So you stay with me,” Justice rumbled. “We’ll stop by the store and buy a blow-up mattress.” He looked at Tellings. “She can fill in for Pamela. She’s on medical leave while she recovers from her emergency C-section. That’s at least six weeks.”

  I would’ve argued and told them I didn’t need a job, but the phone call with my father was over, and I felt like my soul had fled my body.

  I had zero energy left after the day that I had, and I had a feeling that I hadn’t seen the last of The Judge yet.

  God, he was such an ass.

  What the hell had I done in my previous life to deserve him as a father?

  A hand squeezed my elbow, and I looked over to Justice to see him staring at me with a look of pity on his face.

  I yanked my elbow away and stiffened my spine.

  That bastard would not do this to me in a room full of people.

  I turned away and crossed my arms over my chest.

  “Tanika can teach her how to man the front office,” Tellings said. “And we can keep her at this station and away from the main one. Less traffic over here, and less chance of Marcus deciding to come in off Eleventh Street and showing his ugly mug.”

  That was when I rejoined the conversation.

  “Why wouldn’t you want him to do that?” I asked him. “Parading myself around town is to use me as bait, right? Why wouldn’t you want
me to do that?”

  “Less collateral damage,” Tellings said bluntly. “More people to get hurt in case things go south.”

  The brutal truth of those words sounded so much like my father’s that I winced.

  “Okay,” I sighed. “I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”

  Anything if it got me out of this situation alive, and unscathed. Bonus points if I got to work while I was at it and save up the money that I would require for me to leave.

  With Marta back in the picture for now, I didn’t worry about if Jimmy would be okay or not. Marta would never let anything happen to him.

  And maybe it was time to start thinking about me for once.

  Chapter 9

  The neighbor said hi again. I’m just going to move.

  -Justice’s secret thoughts

  Justice

  “So…” she said once we were pulling to a stop in front of her place. “A cop?”

  I drew a deep breath into my lungs and wheezed the whole way through.

  “A cop,” I agreed.

  “What the hell?” she asked. “I thought you owned that shop on Eleventh. What exactly is that place?”

  I held out my hand for her keys, and she rolled her eyes as she placed them into my waiting palm.

  “I do,” I admitted. “Which was why I could so easily do what I did. Bought it when I first moved here. The previous owner sold it all, as is. Had to leave town fast. I scooped it up because of all the tools he had. Stuff that I wanted that I didn’t want to bring from my old place. Hell, I bought that place before I found a place to live. At first, I was staying in the apartment built into the back of it, but then I found my place and the rest is history.”

  She sighed, and I could feel her breath hit the back of my arm as she did.

  “I feel duped,” she said.

  “Why?” I asked as I pushed her apartment door open and glanced around.

  At first, I was too busy checking to make sure she didn’t have any unwanted intruders to really pay attention to the apartment. But when I was done and saw how neat and tidy everything was, I couldn’t help commenting on it.

  “My father, The Judge, was meticulous about cleanliness. I didn’t, under any circumstances, want him having an excuse to ground me or anything. The less fuel I gave him, the better. As a result, I’ve always been a neat freak, not because I was one, but out of habit. Trust me when I say, my father was a real dick—still is for that matter—and keeping my room clean gave him one less bullet in his arsenal.” She paused and looked around. “I guess it’s just stuck with me even after I moved out. Now it’s one of those compulsions. I start to feel icky inside when I don’t have it clean, like I’m just asking for him to come over here and ruin my life over a sock I left on the floor.”

  I grimaced and jerked my head. “Go get your shit going. Pack enough clothes to get you through the week. And grab your toiletries and stuff.”

  She didn’t bother to argue, just went into her room and started packing a big bag, leaving me to explore.

  I started in her kitchen.

  Opening the fridge, I examined what she had in there, and was stunned when I saw nothing.

  And by nothing, I meant nothing.

  No milk or eggs. No cheese or lunch meat. Hell, there wasn’t even any condiment bottles.

  The only thing in there at all was a cake box with half of an eaten cake sitting on the shelf.

  I pulled it out and searched around for a fork.

  “Okay if I have some of your cake?” I called out.

  “Fine with me,” she called.

  I coughed lightly, but luckily it didn’t turn into a coughing fit.

  Pulling out a black fork from a drawer right next to the junk drawer from hell, I took a bite of the cake.

  It was good.

  Really good.

  “Where’d you get this cake?” I called out as I started to finger through her junk drawer.

  Every single house that I knew of had a junk drawer. The only difference between Royal’s junk drawer and everyone else’s junk drawer, it was immaculate. There was a place for everything, even the stray shoelaces and push pins.

  It was the weirdest thing I’d ever seen.

  A bag thunked down on the counter next to the cake, and she took the fork out of my hand and stole a bite before giving it back.

  “You probably just got the plague,” I told her.

  She rolled her eyes.

  “I’ve been pressed up against you for ten minutes, had you coughing all over me, and you’re eating cake straight from the box. Cake that I plan on finishing before I leave so I don’t waste it.” She told me. “So I’m not scared about catching your plague. I’ll get it or I won’t.” She tilted her head. “And the cake is from a friend. I met her a couple of weeks ago when I saw her advertising for taste testers.”

  “Is she opening her own business?” I asked. “Because this is the greatest cake I’ve had since I left home. Jesus.”

  “She’s thinking about it,” she said around a mouthful of cake as she left the room.

  I didn’t bother following her, just continued to eat the cake that tasted like heaven in my mouth.

  My phone rang, and I pulled it out of my pocket and answered it without hesitation.

  “Pop,” I said. “What’s up?”

  “Heard your mother say that you were coming home this weekend,” he said. “Will you bring me some Blackened Voodoo on your way?”

  I rolled my eyes.

  That was seriously the only reason my father liked when I came home. Blackened Voodoo was my father’s favorite beer, and the only place it could be bought was a small convenience store right on the border of Texas and Louisiana. And since I’d have to pass by it to get to him, he always solicited me to get him beer on my way.

  “Not sure if I can make it this weekend after all,” I admitted. “I had sort of a situation arise.”

  “What kind of a situation?” Dad asked, no longer sounding as bored.

  I quickly recapped through the day, ending with how I no longer had just me to worry about.

  “Bring ‘er with you,” he suggested. “Are you still bringing Lock?”

  I’d asked Lock if he’d wanted to come with me because he’d mentioned wanting to check out a motorcycle that my father had for sale. He’d agreed—because he really, really wanted the bike—and we’d had plans to check it out this weekend.

  “From what I understand,” I said. “There haven’t been any mentions of not going.”

  He grunted out a ‘perfect’ and said, “Can you bring Saylor home, too?”

  There was a long pause as I looked down at the cake on my fork.

  “When did Saylor get down here?” I asked.

  Saylor was a childhood friend. She and I had grown up with each other.

  I hadn’t realized she was down here, though.

  “Since she moved down there a few months ago,” he said. “She and her father had a disagreement about her cake business, and she moved to Longview because of a job opening at the local college. I thought your mother told you or I would have.”

  It wasn’t a big deal. I mean, Saylor and I weren’t that close, but it still would’ve been nice to know.

  “Why is she coming home, and why isn’t she driving herself?” I asked.

  “She said she wasn’t wasting gas coming home for two days just to turn around and come back,” he said. “And Kettle mentioned that you were coming home. Said you could probably bring her. She said okay and that she would text you, but I see that hasn’t happened yet either.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed.

  “I really don’t want to get involved in whatever bullshit they’re fighting over,” I admitted.

  Kettle was my dad’s good friend and a member of the Dixie Wardens MC, a motorcycle club that was founded in Benton, Louisiana. I thought of him like an uncle, but seriously, Kettle was overprotective
of his kid.

  Not that we blamed him since she had a rocky start as an infant. But Saylor was thriving now. She was an adult with a good head on her shoulders, and he still treated her like a fragile flower.

  Needless to say, I didn’t think that I’d want to go home, either.

  “I’ll text her and figure out what she wants to do,” I said. “But I’m not going to force her. If she doesn’t want to come, I’m not bringing her.”

  “Fair enough,” Dad said. “I’ll see you this weekend. Bring the girl.”

  With that parting comment, he hung up.

  I took another bite of cake.

  And when Royal came back into the room with another smaller bag in her hand, I pointed at the cake with a fork.

  “This doesn’t happen to be made by Saylor Spada, does it?” I asked.

  I mean, what are the chances that the last time I had a cake this good was when it was made by Saylor…Saylor who just so happened to be in Texas now.

  “Actually, yeah.” Royal frowned. “Do you know her?”

  I grinned. “You could say that.”

  Royal frowned hard, and that was when I realized what she was thinking.

  That I fucked her.

  Which couldn’t be further from the truth.

  But getting into it in more depth would also require me to tell her my entire life story, and I didn’t want to do that either.

  People were put off when you said that your father was in a motorcycle club. And it usually invited more questions to be asked.

  However, when Royal wouldn’t look at me or speak to me the entire ride to my place, I quickly reconsidered telling her.

  One, I didn’t like the way it was making me feel—her not speaking to me.

  Two, I didn’t want to live with a woman that was mad at me.

  Call me crazy, but I didn’t want to be worried she might lose her shit on me at any moment.

  When we pulled into my place ten minutes later and I shut the bike off, the first thing I said was, “I never slept with Saylor.”

  She stiffened at my back and got off.

  “It’s not any of my business what you do,” she said. “I’m sorry if I gave you that impression.”

  My lips twitched as I dismounted, then undid the bungee cords that were holding her bag onto the back of my bike.