Fall Into Me (6 page)

Warm lips, a hint of lime and Corona. Pliable flesh, a bit of pressure, a suggestion of persuasive seduction, her bottom lip sucked lightly between his. Breathless, giddy desire plunging through her, swirling in an achy spin lower in her belly, pulsing to life between her thighs.

He lifted his mouth, caressed the corner of hers, then sought her lips once more. She rested her hands against his chest, over his thudding heart, and offered her mouth up to him, allowing his tongue to tease her lips apart.

Oh, this was good, playful strokes, a light tangle of tongues and lips. He moved closer, hard thighs brushing but not pressing to her own, both hands braced now on the car roof, his body holding her prisoner and providing shelter all at the same time.

She slid her hands up, over tight shoulders and into hair still damp at the edges. He growled an approval low in his throat, a deep male sound that clenched her belly with desire all over again.

He lifted his lips from hers and nuzzled her ear. “I get off at three tomorrow afternoon. Let’s do something.”

All the somethings they could do tumbled through her head. She spread her fingers across his shoulders and tried to focus on an idea other than more kisses, his hands on her naked skin, his body taking hers over and over until they lay satiated in her bed on a sunny Sunday afternoon.

“I have this rule about staying home and vegging out on Sunday afternoons after dinner at my mama’s.” Was that breathy voice hers? Lord, she sounded like a phone-sex operator.

He trailed his mouth down her neck and she felt him smile. “How about if I bring over a movie? About five, maybe? We can play couch potato.”

The ideas she had about getting him on her couch didn’t involve being couch-potato inactive, but she nodded. “Sounds good.”

He straightened and pulled back, laid a caressing finger in the center of her lips. His eyes simmered with lingering passion, but his grin was as easy as always. “Five it is. I’ll see you then.”

Chris’s head rested against the seat, dark sunglasses covering his eyes. Troy Lee shrugged off a wave of resentment. Weird how Chris or Steve or Cookie could catch a power nap while on duty, yet if he tried it, he was guaranteed a carpet-calling session with Calvert. Guess his dad had been right about life being neither fair nor equal.

He rested an elbow on the windowsill and studied Chris, trying to figure out if he was really asleep. Parker possessed the ultimate poker face, a trait that served him well in their shared profession.

“What’s up?” Chris didn’t move, but his lazy voice hinted at complete alertness.

“Absolutely nothing. This place is dead.”

“Be grateful.” Chris straightened but left his sunglasses in place. “We could be in the middle of another shift from hell.”

“This is the shift from hell. I’m bored out of my freakin’ skull.” At least he only had an hour or so to go.

“Go write a ticket.” A smirk played around Chris’s mouth. “And draw an asshole on it.”

“Shit, does everybody know?” Troy Lee slumped in his seat.

“Nah.” Chris waffled a hand outside the window. “Cookie told me. He thinks it’s hilarious.”

“Glad somebody does,” Troy Lee mumbled. “Calvert sure as hell didn’t.”

“He’s got a lot on his mind right now.”

“Yeah. That’s right now. What about the last two and a half years?”

Chris harrumphed in mild amusement. “You’ve got a point.”

Yeah, the point being that Calvert hated him and Troy Lee’s goal of proving his worth to the man he’d seen as the embodiment of what he’d wanted to be as a cop was improbable. He should give up, go to another department, but something wouldn’t let him, maybe the same something that had kept his dad puzzling over a seemingly unsolvable equation right up to his death.

“Hey, was I imagining things or was that Angel Henderson I saw you with yesterday?” Chris’s quiet question pulled him from the futile musings.

“Yeah.” Troy Lee squelched his radio as it squawked with a transmission between Steve Monroe and dispatch. “Why?”

“Just wondering.” Chris shrugged and Troy Lee got the impression the K-9 officer was sizing him up behind the dark lenses. “You know, if that was awkward, with her and Cookie’s past.”

A one-night stand, Angel had called it. Was that a “past”? Besides, Cookie was completely wrapped up in Tori Calvert, so Troy Lee didn’t really see him as either competition or an issue where Angel was concerned. Somehow he doubted she’d been thinking of his commanding officer either when he’d kissed her the night before. He could still taste her, feel her fingers buried in his hair, hear the breathless quality of her voice.

Keeping his hands off her while they watched a movie this evening was going to be a bitch.

“Earth to Troy Lee.” Chris waved.

Troy Lee blinked at him. “What?”

“I asked if it was awkward.”

Probably not as awkward as Chris being the center of recent speculation around the department about his sexuality, although he seemed to take it in stride, had even made offhand jokes about it during their morning runs. Troy Lee shrugged. “No. It’s not awkward.”

Chris nodded. “Good.”

Troy Lee twisted his arm to check his watch. Forty-five minutes. One more circle through town, checking the ins and outs, and he was done. Another two hours after that—time for a shower, maybe a run and to pick up DVDs from Video Central—and he could show up on Angel’s doorstep. He gunned the motor and reached for the gearshift. “I’m outta here. Gonna make one more round before I sign off.”

“Yeah, me too.” Chris started his unit. “Later.”

He was mere minutes away, a mile or two from town, when dispatch requested available units to respond to a disturbance at the strip mall that held the video store, a sandwich shop and an insurance office. He waited ten seconds, hoping despite his earlier desire for something to do that Chris would pick this one up. It just sounded like the kind of call that would end up making him late for his date with Angel. No reply was forthcoming from Chris and he reached for the mike with a muttered oath.

“10-4, Chandler, C-13 en route.”

He pressed harder on the accelerator, the police package responding with a low growl and a spurt of speed and power. Less than three minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot. His stomach clenched on a wave of dread and adrenaline as he spotted the ancient blue Ford parked sideways across the parking spots at the front of the video store. Oh fuck, the Stinsons. Just what he needed. Jed Stinson was a mean drunk and always wanted to do everything the hard way. Having his wife leave him and get a restraining order only made him madder and meaner.

Damn it, Troy Lee had known this was coming, ever since Maggie had taken the job working the register at the video place. Once Jed found out how to contact her, it wasn’t like the son of a bitch would leave her alone.

Troy Lee cruised to a halt just beyond the tail of Jed’s truck, called in his arrival and, as an afterthought, asked dispatch to phone Tori Calvert, who’d been walking Maggie through the delicate, dangerous process of separating herself from the abusive relationship. With a request for backup, he settled his hat on his head and exited the car.

“Mr. Stinson.” He nodded at the whipcord-lean man lounging against the hood of the Ford, arms crossed over his chest. Through the store’s front glass, Troy Lee glimpsed Maggie’s pale, frightened face, phone pressed to her ear. He motioned toward his unit. “Step over here with me a minute.”

With one last malevolent glare at the front of the store, Jed complied, although his body language remained fidgety and angry. Troy Lee examined him—bloodshot eyes, wrinkled clothes, unshaven jaw. The untucked shirt offered concealment of a weapon, and Troy Lee knew from experience the man carried a hunting knife. “How much have you had to drink today, Mr. Stinson?”

Jed shook his head, chin lifting at a pugnacious angle. “Ain’t drunk.”

“I never said you were.” He kept his voice steady and laced with calm authority. “At this time though, Mr. Stinson, you are under arrest for violating a restraining order. Turn around and place your hands on the vehicle, please.”

Jed’s expression never changed. “Ain’t going to jail again.”

F-uck, why did it always have to be the hard way? He was going to end up fighting the son of a bitch into the car. The last time it had taken him and Cookie both to subdue Jed, and Cookie had ended up needing stitches.

Troy Lee reached for his cuffs, keeping the other hand just above his holster, ready for multiple actions. “Turn around. Hands on the car.”

A flash of white paint and silent blue lights passed on the side street at the same time a snazzy silver Miata darted into the parking lot.

“Fucking bitch.” Jed stiffened all over, his hand going under the edge of his shirt. Adrenaline spiked through Troy Lee’s system.

“Stop.” He closed his fingers on the butt of his nine. “Hands where I can see them.”

Jed ignored him, his infuriated, bleary gaze locked on Tori Calvert’s car. Shit, let her be smart enough to stay put. Jed took one step forward, body tensed on a wave of fury and vengeance.
Pull his gun. Take Jed down physically.
The options shot through Troy Lee’s brain. Jed was crazy, high at the moment on booze and retribution, and unlikely to respond to the gun as threat or control. One option.

Take him down.

He rasped his cuffs open and darted an assessment over Jed’s stance. Incapacitate that hand, the hidden one. Another engine purred into the lot and behind him Tori’s car door opened with a quiet snick. Jed’s eyes widened, narrowed, set on his prey. He coiled in preparation for a leap.

Damn it.
She opened the door
. Troy Lee grabbed Jed’s arm as the hand came from under his shirt, the blade of a wicked hunting knife glinting in the dull sunlight. Hell, the fucker was strong.

“Drop it.” He put all the pressure he could on Jed’s wrist, twisting to get behind Jed, keeping clear of that knife and trying to get him down at the same time. “Drop it.”

Under the pressure of his fingers digging into Jed’s nerves, the knife finally clattered to the pavement. Now fully enraged, Jed screamed obscenities and fought his hold, kicking and flailing. Troy Lee used the nerve point in the wrist to bring him to his knees and shoved forward. Jed jerked backward, the top of his skull colliding with Troy Lee’s chin.

His teeth snapped together and pain jarred through his head. He managed to get the cuff around one wrist and his knee in the small of Jed’s back as Chris joined him, grabbing the other arm and bringing it around to be cuffed as well.

“About time you got here,” Troy Lee panted. Blood dripped from his chin, splashing the front of his uniform.

“Looks like you had it under control.” Chris laid his knee across Jed’s wriggling shoulders. “Quit fighting, Jed.”

Jed bellowed something that sounded like “ain’t going to jail” interspersed with every foul word imaginable.

“Wanna bet?” Troy Lee clenched his teeth and regretted it as agony pounded along his jaw. “Swear to God, Jed, I’ll hogtie you if I have to, but you’re going to jail.”

With Jed still protesting, he and Chris managed to get him searched and in the back of Troy Lee’s car. The closed door muffled some of his incensed yelling. Troy Lee rested against the trunk and swiped his wrist across his chin. His hand came away smeared with blood.

Chris surveyed him with a critical eye. “Bet you need a couple of stitches.”

“Nah. Butterfly bandage. It’ll be all right.” He went to grab his clipboard out of the front seat. The sooner he got the paperwork done, the sooner he could go 10-6, 10-42. A glance at the storefront showed Tori inside, calming Maggie.

He shook his head. “Really wished she’d stayed in the damn car.”

“Who, Tori?”

“Yeah.” He jotted the date and address across the top of the form. “He went crazy when he saw her.”

“Probably blames her for…” Chris’s voice trailed away in an uncomfortable cough and Troy Lee looked up from his clipboard. Cookie’s Blazer slowed to turn into the lot. Unease slithered down his spine and coiled around his gut. Calvert was riding shotgun and even through the windshield the fury tightening his features was apparent.

Troy Lee closed his eyes. Hell, this was going to be fun.

Mark leaned on the counter and waited for a pause in Tori’s quiet, intense conversation with Maggie Stinson. Jittery anxiety still jumped in him, but Tori seemed all right. Movie trailers blared from televisions in each corner of the store, the noise making his skin crawl.

Maggie pushed her thin hair behind her ears. “I’m going to wash my face.”

“All right.” Tori smiled. “I’ll be right here.”

He waited until Maggie disappeared into the backroom. “Are you okay?”

A rueful expression crossed Tori’s pretty features. “Other than feeling like an idiot for not reading the situation better and almost getting Troy Lee hurt? I’m good.”

He nodded, finally letting the relief have its way. He flicked a finger toward the door marked
Employees Only
. “How about Maggie?”

“She’s really shaken up, and to make it worse, feels guilty for calling 911.” Her troubled brown gaze darted toward the front glass and her posture slumped. “Oh, Mark. Go stop that, please.”

He followed the direction of her gaze. Sure enough, Tick stood with Troy Lee in the middle of the parking lot, giving him hell. His face flushed, Tick stabbed his index finger into the palm of his other hand. The kid wasn’t saying anything, his features set in a stoic mask, his gaze trained somewhere beyond Tick’s shoulder. Chris had retreated to the driver’s seat of his own patrol car.

A sigh shook his shoulders. Obviously, Tick didn’t understand the concept of “lay off”. “Let me go see if I can calm Tick down.”

He pushed the door open. At least Tick wasn’t yelling. Instead, he seemed to be speaking in the low, deadly tone he used in the interrogation room. Mark approached, noting the muscle flicking in Troy Lee’s jaw. Ten to one, the kid was chewing the inside of his cheek.

“Do you understand how easily she could have been hurt?” Tick laid a hand across his side, where Mark knew the surgical incision ended.

Mark clapped an easy hand on his partner’s shoulder. “Hey, Tick, go wait in the truck.”

“What?” Tick stopped mid-harangue to stare at him.

“Go sit in the truck.” Mark gestured toward the Blazer. “Now would be good.”

Tick glared at him for a moment then threw his hands up and stalked toward the Blazer. Mark hooked his thumbs in his belt and studied Troy Lee. The blank mask remained in place; he continued to stare at the middle distance.

“Better get Jed to lockup.” Rotating his wrist, Mark glanced at his watch. “Your shift ended twenty minutes ago.”

Mouth tight, Troy Lee nodded. None of the tension drained from his stance.