Ballistic (14 page)

Brushing out my hair and trying to put it up in a twist like Phoebe does on Friends, I’m caught off guard when my head snaps back. Whipping around and staring her down
, I want to hit her. I’m not afraid of her any more. She can’t take me and I could prove that to her right now, I could hit her back.

But I don’t.

Ignoring her I begin brushing my hair out again to start over. “No man is ever gonna want something like you,” she sneers at me. “Look at you, short, fat and ugly. Evil didn’t bother disguising itself in a pretty package with you. You can do your hair, dress nice and get good grades, but you’re still pure fucking evil.”

Biting my tongue
, I watch her in the mirror. Ana is maybe an inch taller than me, twenty-five pounds overweight and I am her image. That’s only one of the many reasons she hates me. Two more weeks of saving, plus working with the captain and I’m out of here. Two more long fucking weeks.

“I’m talking to you!” she screams
, pulling my hair again. Taking her wrist and twisting it, I switch positions backing her against the sink.

“I could break this,” I tell her
calmly while she screams. “All I have to do is…”

“Let go of your mother
, Halina,” he says, seething at me. “Now.”

Stepping back
, she lunges for me, slapping and scratching my face. My father speaks to her in his language which calms her down and has her laughing at me. What he said had me packing my bags early. “She’ll be eighteen in a year Ana, be patient. When she’s an adult, we can change the locks and she can fend for herself on the streets. Maybe we’ll get lucky and the streets will kill her before you do.”

So much for
holding out.

What I do brings me unwanted attention. When you solve cases while still in high school, you get noticed. It also pisses a lot of people off. In the beginning, the media was up my ass the second I stepped foot at a scene. They thought I had special powers, apparently. Like I could magically pick out the guilty party out of a crowd. What they failed to understand was that the truth for me, was easy. Putting together the pieces, was not. You start with the evidence then, work your way through questioning suspects in the hopes of finding the motive. My job wasn’t to sit in a room asking questions. I did, of course, but I had to be at the scene working leads before I ever got to the table. To my knowledge I’ve never been wrong, but… the DPD has, the DA has and the media has.

Criminals get off all the time. My role was the first step
, and I did it without fail. The failure comes when the department fucks up evidence. The DA takes that fuck up as an opportunity to set the criminal free and then the media blasts the department for putting another criminal back on the streets.

The criminal however, remembers none of that. What they
do
remember is, it was my efforts that got them locked up in the first place.

In an effort to keep myself safe
, I’ve taken self-defense classes for years. It doesn’t help that I’m built like a traditional polish girl. Short, big boobs, big ass and a huge temper. Venessa and Jules are small too, not quite as small as me, but still small for women yet, they can kick serious ass. I’ve tried but I’m not built to be an ass kicker. I’m not even five foot, which means I have to rely on knowing my environment and having above-par shooting skills.

Venessa relies on martial arts
and Macy’s special sauce combined with the element of surprise, whereas Jules knows pretty much everything else. Macy isn’t much of a fighter but, she can if she has to and when she does, she’s kind of nuts. Macy is tall compared to us and when her legs start flying, you best get the fuck out of the way. Me though, I always carry my gun and I’ve managed to train enough to feel safe in most situations. But I’m not as physically strong as they are. I have to rely on fighting dirty to get the job done. Which is why having my right hand casted blows dick. Yes, I can shoot with my left hand but, I can’t write with it and that’s going to drive me insane.

When I look over
, I see Anthony sound asleep on his back. His jaw is slack and he’s snoring. Leaning up on my elbow, I admit he is quite possibly the most gorgeous man walking the planet in my eyes. How in the world a man like him sees anything in me, is a mystery I’m not equipped to solve. Is he just using me? Could he honestly feel something? He speaks true, but has he convinced himself of his need for me or his need
of
me?

One of my favorite things about him is his stubble. He’s always so polished, so put together and ready
, it makes me feel below average. When he goes a day or two without shaving, it makes him look rugged and more bad ass. I’m Silver jeans to his Armani. But seeing him like this works too. He’s got the Italian thing working for him too. Olive skin, jet black hair and soft blue eyes. Although like me, he has the polish nose and lips and I like that we have that in common. I told him about my nightmares, about the case that started my phobia. Jules doesn’t even know about that. In a matter of days I’ve given him some insight into why I am the way that I am, and though I don’t know why I did it, I’m sort of glad I did. Initially, I was angry he went to see my parents, but for him it’s foreign. He wouldn’t have the means to grasp the concept of being unloved because he was bathed in it. He was encouraged, respected and guided. I meant it when I said I can’t miss what I didn’t have, but in my heart I am so glad he had it. Anthony has a big heart and it makes my stomach hurt that he doesn’t have them while my donors live and breathe.

Quietly exiting the bed
, I make my way to his spare room and decide to get him some answers. Luckily the cast doesn’t cover my fingers and I can type some, but to say it doesn’t hurt would be a lie. Opening his father’s file followed by Venessa’s, I begin making notes. Taking a highlighter, I run it across the captain’s name every time I see it. Back then, the captain was lead detective. He was part of the task force and had to approve all movement the team made. I also highlight the time of death for both men and reference it with the captain’s whereabouts.

Now this new development was fucked up.
He wasn’t in the city, so where was he? No lead detective would be absent for the biggest bust of his career.

“Sleep well?”
Anthony asks, pulling up another chair and handing me a cup of coffee.

“I did, thank you. You?”

“Like a baby,” he says, kissing my cheek. “Find anything?”

Pointing at the yellow highlights I explain what I have so far
. “They were all shot in the same manner. My thought is vengeance pure and simple,” I explain. “If the captain was lead detective of this task force, why wasn’t he killed too? He gave the order. I would think he would be first. He implemented the bust but on the night all this took place, he wasn’t in the city. His name was all over the place when this hit the media. Whoever made the decision to come after those involved would take out the lead detective first. That’s Revenge-101.”

“The bust happened two weeks prior,” he explains
, lighting up.

“Anthony you aren’t listening to me,” I explain
, taking his cigarette to hit it. “He wasn’t in the city when the bust happened either.”

“
Are you sure?”

“Anytime there is a bust like this
, the paperwork takes days, sometimes weeks to complete. For months they’d been building this case. If you were the head of a bust this big you’d be here overseeing it, making sure your men were safe. Then when the dust settled, you’d stick around to get the reports where they needed to go and take your accolades with the rest of the team. This bust was huge for Detroit. The captain especially. It literally put a halt to some serious shit at that time. When you finish a job, how long does it take you to do reports? For me, it can take anywhere from eight hours to a full week.”

“Reports we
re the bane of my existence,” he says. “So the captain did his reports?”

Pulling out the file I show him
. “Yes, he did them. Four days later and they weren’t finalized until a week after the murders went public. The department was thrown into a tailspin with their deaths. No one would fault him if it took him extra time to finish them. The timelines do not match up. He waited to do these reports, but why?”

“To cover his own ass?”

“Or to alter what the reports said. If I were the detective in charge and this happened, I would feel responsible and I would want answers. I would tear the city apart getting them. He didn’t do that. He didn’t do
anything
. You have to remember that the captain in charge at that time had health issues and passed away of natural causes, sixteen days after the bust. Guess who took his place?”

“No shit.”

Just then, my phone pings and when I look down, I see it’s from Jules. She can’t find Max. Apparently he put distance between them
again
and now, poof, he’s gone. Max going missing means one thing: Hank. I knew this would happen eventually, I just wasn’t expecting it this soon. Hank’s timing sucked.

“Road trip?”

“Where to?”

“I think Hank took Max
, but before I can give Jules the green light, we need to head over there and check it out. If he’s there I’ll give her the go ahead. If we go in before her, she’ll shit. She’s territorial like that. We need to do surveillance first.”

“I’ll drive,” he says
, grabbing his keys. “But first, you take your meds and grab some coffee for us to go.”

“Yes sir,” I say
, heading down the stairs. Doing exactly as requested, I pop an ibuprofen and make two mugs for the road. Slipping my Chuck’s on, I’m waiting by the back door when he comes into the kitchen.

Taking his
Beemer because a hummer tends to draw notice, we haul ass over to a residence Hank used to own. If Jules can’t find him, this is the only other logical choice. Jules moved away, I did not. So over the years I’ve had the unfortunate luck of knowing about this asshole and shared some things with her. His residence in Palmer Woods isn’t too far when you break laws. If she was thinking straight she would have remembered that, but she wasn’t so she got a pass. Parking several houses down, I secure my 9mm and I watch as Anthony does the same.

Seriously, there is something about a man and his weapon.
No not his cock, okay yeah, that too, but guns are a close second.

“You can shoot left handed?” he asks when I palm it
, ready for anything.

“Yes,” I admit
. “I could even shoot with my feet if I had to.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” he says
, coming around the vehicle to kiss me hard on the mouth “You ready?”

Once we found a safe position
Anthony was shocked that Hank would shoot his own son, I however was not. I knew firsthand what Hank was capable of. Sending Jules a text, I let her know shots were fired at Palmer Woods and no units would be responding. That ought to get her in gear.

Oh and in a rare act of friendship
, I tell her that I love her too. What is happening to me?

“I can’t leave him here like this,” he says
, looking fearsome. “Hank will kill him.”

“Let Jules and her team handle it
, Anthony,” I tell him, trying to pull him with my good arm. “Please, just trust me.” When he looks torn I tug on him again. “Please,” I ask him. “Trust me on this. Hank isn’t going to kill him. He can’t afford to. We have to go.”

Seeming to make a decision
, he backs away, then looks at me. “I’ll trust you,” he says. “You know Jules better than I do.”

“Thank you,” I whisper
. “She’ll save him. It’s what she does, Anthony.”

“Shit.”

Making our way back to his car we no sooner get in and pull away that I see Jules arrived with her team. Knowing matters will be taken care of with threat and bloodshed, I take my first deep breath since the text.

We made it
, this time.

My father was laughing so hard
, tears were running down his face. Coming out to the shed to see what was going on, he threw his arm around my shoulder and whispered, “Look at her, son,” in hushed tones. “She never fails to entertain me.”

I was confused, what was she doing with that
? What was it? A hand saw? “Mom,” I called out. “What are you doing?”

Rushing forward
, my father was still laughing. “Gah!” she groans. “Don’t just stand there, Anthony get this thing off of me! I can’t breathe with it on!”

“Love, the doctor said four weeks it’s been four days.”

Moving closer, I see her working the saw back and forth to get her tiny cast off. My mother, albeit the most beautiful mother ever, was a complete klutz. A week ago she dropped an edging stone on her last two fingers and it took three days to convince her to go get it checked out. The doctor said she broke her fingers and even though it was a clean break, the cast would ensure her digits healed properly. “Junior!” she said, calling me over. “You just take the saw and I’ll hold still. Come on and help me out.”

“Uh,” I sputter
, “isn’t it supposed to stay on?”

“Yes,” my father
said, taking the saw and hanging it up. “Vera, Junior and I can handle things until it comes off. No more crazy ideas from you. Let’s go.”

As he
ushered her away she smiled down at me and whispered, “Traitor,” then kissed my cheek. A few days and endless pampering later, my mother was in queen mode happy to let us do everything. I think she did it to teach us a lesson, but if it bothered my father, he never said so. He lived to make my mother happy.

And she was.

Lina
barely made it seventy-two hours, before I found her in the garage trying to take her cast off with my band saw. Stopping her just before she removed her entire wrist, she had the balls to look at me like
I
was crazy. Dragging her back inside I sit her down, grab a chop stick I had left over from carry out months ago, and slid it inside her cast. When I started moving it around in an effort to scratch her, she literally made the act sexual. She has a tendency to make everything sexual.

Moaning
, she closes her eyes and her head hits the table. “This is almost as good as an orgasm,” she groans. “Almost.”

When I pull the stick back out she growls
, “Don’t stop,” so I scratch her again and again. My balls hurt watching her get off on being scratched. A new low for me was being jealous of a god damn chop stick, but I was. Picking her head up, she smiles at me. “It’s snug in there so don’t be shy about it. Shove it in and work it.”

“I don’t want to break it
off and have it stuck inside.”

“You know what you’re doing,” she says
, with a smirk. “You can go faster and harder, I know you can, and just so you know, I can take it.”

“Don’t fuck with me right now,” I warn her
. “I’m this close to taking you on this table, Lina.”

“
Good,” she says with her eyes going heavy. “Because this wasn’t the only itch I needed scratched,
Anthony
.”

Over the years I’ve been with women. I can count them on both hands
, though names and faces escape me. Yet I have never met one as brazen and beautiful as her. Occasionally they were a way to pass the time, a few even wanted more. I never did, until now.

I want to tie down the one woman who refuses to be tied
down at all. I might have to tie her down and because she’s a constant flight risk, I’m speaking in the literal sense. She’s complicated, but simple. She’s stunning, but literally has no idea. Knowing she’s been with others was one thing. Knowing she was with Julian is a dagger in the chest that keeps me from taking things further. True, it’s not her fault, but I want to erase him and every other Joe Blow from her memory. It’s funny how I want so fucking badly to talk to her while I’m buried deep, when I never bothered to speak with anyone else in the past.

Whatever is happening here is different. I don’t want any past bullshit to ruin it before it gets started. Pulling her chair toward mine
, I take her face in both hands and kiss her like I’ve been wanting to all morning. In my mind there is nothing sexier than coffee breath, nothing. No sooner does she wrap her arms around my neck, she’s pulling me up and leaning herself back to lie on the table.

“I’m on the table,” she says
, winking. “Hungry?”

“No,” I growl
, moving to stand between her legs.

“
Are you sure you’re not just a little bit hungry?” she asks, wrapping her legs around me, pulling her closer to her.

“I’m sta
rving,” I tell her, leaning forward to kiss her.

“Mmm me too,” she says
, biting my lip. “Do it, Anthony. Right here on this table, right now.”

Jesus.

How does a guy say no to that? He doesn’t. Unhooking her legs, I spread her further then put one leg over each shoulder. Watching her chest rise and fall, no doubt matches mine. I could be the first man over the age of thirty who hyperventilates at the thought of going down on a woman. Obviously, she noticed.

“Are you nervous?” she asks
, biting her lip.

“Nervous, no. Ravenous, yes.”

“I’ve never met a guy who talks like you do,” she admits, smiling up at me. “You’re so sophisticated and shit.” Laughing at her own joke, the laugh dies in her throat when take my finger and move her panties to the side and give her one long lick. If I can keep my mouth busy I won’t feel the need to use it to talk. Later, when this over, I don’t want her pissed I broke her condition. Until I get her complete trust, I’ll honor it, even if it kills me to do it.

“Oh my fucking god,” she moans
, while thrashing on the table. “So, so good,” she says, gripping my hair. “Waited forever for this.”

Hearing her say that, I
stop and look up at her. Cocking my head to the side she puts me out of my misery. “I’ve never done this before.” When I stay quiet she continues. “Too intimate, never trusted someone to--- oh!”

Going at her like her pussy is the
Holy Grail, I destroy it with my mouth and tongue. When her knees tighten on either side of my head I reach in with my right hand and pinch her clit. I get such a strong reaction, that I do twice more and then it happened.

My woman is a screamer.

Noted.

Letting her ride it out on my tongue
, I secure her hips in my hands. She also has the most fuckable curves I’ve ever seen. Everything about her screams sex, maybe even louder than she did, screaming my name. Once her breathing is under control, she sits up and puts her arm out for me to help her off the table. When she’s standing, she pushes me down into the chair and gets on her knees. Still, I don’t speak.

“Your turn,” she says
, freeing my cock. “I’m a firm believer in earning your meals. Based on what’s running down my thighs right now, I’d say you’ve earned yours. I’ve never been on my knees before, not even to pray. But when I’m done if I don’t get a halleluiah, I’m going to keep doing it until I do. ”

I’ve decided that this no speaking thing has its perks. The words that come out of her mouth are far better than anything I could come up with anyway. Watching her lean down to take me in
, I expected her to jerk me off or maybe suck on the tip. What I didn’t expect was her taking me to the back of her throat, then swallowing over and over, which was gripping my cock like a vice. Grabbing on to both sides of the chair, not wanting to interfere with what she was doing, it took seconds for my neck and back to get sweaty. Gagging doesn’t stop her. My fucking the back of her throat doesn’t stop her either. Lina wasn’t messing around.

Grunting and groaning with my ass lifting off the chair to ensure I’m in there as deep as possible
, I feel it come on. Not wanting to stop it or prolong it I just let that shit go. She works me even faster and tightens her throat, swallowing all of me. Even as it takes me over and I can feel it leave me, I can feel her gulping it down. Suddenly spent, I wait for her to release me from her mouth, she does sucking me like chicken meat straight off the bone, not missing a fucking thing. Releasing me with a pop and sitting back on her heels, she says more to herself than to me, “I’ve never done that before either. I think I did okay for my first time,” then stands up and extends a hand to me. “You can talk now, Anthony,” she says, smiling.

“Talk yeah, move no
,” I say, trying to stand on wobbly legs. “You’re sure you haven’t done that before?”

“Pinky promise.”

“I wouldn’t know if you were lying to me,” I tell her, wrapping my arms around her waist and leaning in to kiss her sweaty neck. “Mind telling me where you learned how to do that, then?”

“
Strip clubs,” she says, reaching for her coffee smiling. “
A lot
of strip clubs. There really is sex in the champagne room.”

“
Halleluiah,” I groan, reaching for my own cup then getting her comfortable in my lap, we drink our coffee together before the day begins. It’s almost a vision, the thought of us hits me so hard. I have to have this, her, us every morning for the rest of my life.