Hurt

HURT

Lila Bruce

Hurt

Copyright © 2015 Lila Bruce

All rights reserved. Without reserving the rights under copyright, reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or any other means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.  Such action is in violation of the U.S. Copyright Law.

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Hurt

Copyright © 2015 Lila Bruce

Original Publication Date: January 2015

Author: Lila Bruce

Cover Art by: 3 Rusted Spoons Cover Design

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental
.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

The Author wishes to recognize the superior musical talent of Michael Bublé, Harry Connick, Jr, and the immortal Man in Black himself, Johnny Cash.

With much appreciation to Mimi and Connie-Susan for their continued and extraordinary support.

To Jackie – Because I said so, that’s why

Chapter One

In Nicole Landers’ mind, the world was broken up into two distinct sets of people. There were shower people, and then there were bath people.

Shower people usually had someplace to be and a particular time they had to be there. They almost always wore watches and, although they constantly were stopping to check the time, they rarely had any to spare. That’s not to say they didn’t find opportunities to enjoy the finer moments of life, because they did. Rather, in Nicole’s opinion, shower people generally had a plan for how things were to go. On those rare occasions when things didn’t go according to plan, their world seemed to fall apart, if only for just a little while.

Nicole considered her girlfriend Jamie Tate to be a shower person.

She, herself, was a bath person.
Bath people approached life a little more laid back, a little less restricted by schedules. They realized that sometimes the bathtub got too full while you were lighting candles and pouring in the bubble bath. While it might be a minor inconvenience, it didn’t make the bath any less enjoyable. If you didn’t have time for the bubble bath on a particular day, it wasn’t that big of a deal. You would just make time later.

As she watched the tall police detective with hair the color of copper rush frantically from the bathroom to the bedroom and then back again, Nicole pondered the likelihood of converting Jamie to a bath person.

“Oh, my God, tell me it’s not eight o’clock already,” Jamie said in between rotations. She had a bright pink bath towel wrapped around her otherwise naked body and held a toothbrush in one hand.

“Actually, it’s ten after eight,” Nicole answered matter-of-factly as she reclined against the headboard of her queen-sized bed. She’d been watching Jamie’s mad scurrying for almost thirty minutes, the spectacle having been brought on by the sudden failure of the water in Nicole’s shower to heat up. After checking and subsequently re-lighting the pilot light in the hot water heater, Jamie, having allotted herself exactly fifteen minutes to shower and dress, found herself twenty minutes behind schedule. Or at least that’s what she’d shouted out at least three times already. Nicole had offered to try and help Jamie get ready, but after having been told—snapped at really—that Jamie “had this”, Nicole had decided to crawl back into bed and watch the show.

“Shit!” Jamie called out from the bathroom. “Are you out of toothpaste?”

“In the top drawer,” Nicole shouted back.

Jamie appeared a minute later, still in the towel, with a white cotton bra slung over one shoulder and a pair of black slacks over the other. She ran around the room, looking at the ground as if searching for something. She stopped at the foot of the bed and fell on her knees. Nicole raised one eyebrow, trying to figure out what Jamie could possibly be looking for under the bed.

“Are you sure I can’t help you?”

“Nope, I said I got it,” Jamie muttered, jumping up from the hardwood floor holding a black oxford shoe and then sprinting back into the bathroom.

“You know, you wouldn’t have half this much trouble if you would break down and move in with me,” Nicole said as she heard the clattering of something hitting the bathroom floor, immediately followed by the sound of Jamie cursing. “Or me in with you. This back and forth between houses is silly.”

“Darlin’, can we talk about this later?” Jamie called out from the bathroom.

From the bed, Nicole snorted, but said nothing. It was a discussion they had
not
been having for the past few months now. Whenever Nicole brought the subject up, Jamie quickly changed it.

Jamie emerged from the bathroom after a few moments dressed in the bra, slacks, and one shoe, her wet hair hanging loose around her shoulders. “Have you seen my other shoe?”

“I believe it’s in the laundry hamper.”

“Why the hell would it be in the hamper?” Jamie asked as she limped across the bedroom to the pale yellow clothes hamper in the corner.

“That’s the direction you threw it in last night when you were stripping off your clothes. Maybe if you hadn’t been in such an all-fire hurry to ravish me as soon as we got home, you’d know where it was this morning.”

“Oh that’s right,” Jamie said, retrieving the shoe from the top of the hamper and quickly sliding it on her foot. She looked at Nicole and grinned. “Maybe if you hadn’t worn that sexy little red dress to dinner last night, I would have been able to show a little more restraint.” She walked to the closet and pulled a dark green blouse off one of the hangers. “And I don’t seem to recall any complaints from you last night, Miss Landers,” Jamie pointed out as she buttoned up the blouse.

Nicole smiled.

“I didn’t say I was complaining.”

“That’s what I thought,” Jamie said, stepping over to the bed. She sat down beside Nicole and slid up against her. “Maybe if you’re not doing anything tonight, we could schedule a repeat performance?”

Nicole blushed as she ran her fingers through Jamie’s damp hair.

“I think that can be arranged,” she murmured, bringing her lips to Jamie’s in a soft kiss. Nicole moaned as Jamie brought one arm around to draw her in close, deepening the kiss and lightly grazing Nicole’s bottom lip with her teeth. Nicole closed her eyes, breathing in the lavender scent of Jamie’s shampoo.

Jamie groaned and pulled back, her fingers lingering on Nicole’s cheek.

“I’m going to be late for court if I don’t leave now,” she said in a husky voice, her eyes dark with passion.

“I know, sweetie. Are you not going to dry your hair?”

“Don’t have time,” Jamie said, shaking her head. “I’ll just turn up the heat in the car on the way to the courthouse and hope for the best.”

Nicole took Jamie’s hand and kissed the inside of her wrist.

“You’re insane. Be careful. I’ve got to get moving myself in a few minutes. It’s my turn to take Nana to her doctor appointment today.” Since her mother’s passing a few years ago, the care of Nicole’s elderly grandmother had fallen to Nicole and her brother Steven. He lived with his family several miles east of Chattanooga, but was still close enough to share in their grandmother’s bi-monthly trips to the doctor’s office.

Jamie rose from the bed and straightened her blouse.

“I will. Have fun with Nana and tell her I said hello.”

“Don’t I always?” Nicole said dryly, pushing back the pale pink comforter and swinging her legs to hang off the side of the bed. “And I will. Oh, I forgot to tell you. I was talking to Julie yesterday and she said that new Mexican restaurant you mentioned the other day is finally open. I was thinking we should check it out and maybe invite her to tag along. She’s dumped her latest love interest, so you won’t have to pretend to be nice to anyone.”

“I’m always nice to people,” Jamie said, pursing her lips. “But that last guy was pretty much a jackass. I know she’s your friend and all, but God, she needs to be a little more choosy.”

“We can’t all be as lucky as I am,” Nicole answered with a sly smile.

“I can’t disagree with you there. Well, I need to get going.” Jamie bent down and lightly kissed Nicole on the forehead. “Love you,” she whispered and then hurried out of the room.

“Love you too,” Nicole called after her. A moment later she heard the sound of the front door closing.

Sitting on the bed, Nicole gave a little sigh, absently curling and uncurling her toes as she thought about what she was going to wear. Looking at her bright red toenails, she decided that she would get a quick shower this morning, rather than a bath. She would put that off until later in the evening. Maybe after a nice meal and a few drinks she would begin phase one of Jamie’s conversion and show her the pleasures of a really good bubble bath.

Chapter Two

“…and so can you explain to the court how you and your partner came to be at that location, Detective Tate?”

“We were completing a canvas of the area in an attempt to locate any possible new witnesses to the shooting.”

“And did you locate any new witnesses, Detective?”

“No, ma’am.”

Jamie watched as Assistant District Attorney Megan Riley glanced down at a file folder laid out in front of her on the wooden podium that stood at the front of the courtroom. Deceptively diminutive, Megan was only a few inches taller than the podium. What Megan lacked in size, she more than made up for in attitude. More than one defense attorney had learned the hard way that while Megan Riley looked like she should be teaching kindergarten, the pixie-like blonde with wire-rimmed glasses would give the devil a run for his money.

“Your partner, Detective Samuels, testified earlier that it was during this canvas that you encountered the defendant, Mr. Thompson. Is that correct?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jamie answered, glancing at the wiry man with dirty blond hair sitting at the table to her right. She couldn’t help but think that in his button-down white shirt and khaki pants, Russell Thompson would look at home at any one of the fraternity houses at the local university. With his neatly pressed clothes and clean-shaven face, the young man sitting at the defendant’s table glaring at Jamie looked nothing like the bearded, lice-infested meth addict she and her partner had arrested in the spring for shooting two men in a drug deal gone bad.

“Could you please explain that encounter
to the court?”

Jamie nodded.

“Detective Samuels and I had just completed interviewing a potential witness when we observed a man, Mr. Thompson,” Jamie nodded in the direction of the defendant, “matching the description of the perpetrator walking down the street.”

“And what was that description, Detective?” Megan interjected.

“Witnesses on the night of the shooting had reported seeing a white male, blond hair, approximately six-feet tall, wearing blue jeans and an Ohio State University hoodie running from the scene immediately after the shots were fired.”

“And Mr. Thompson was wearing an Ohio State University hoodie and blue jeans when you encountered him?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Did you identify yourself as police officers to Mr. Thompson?”

“We did.”

“And what happened after you identified yourselves as police officers?” Megan asked, staring at the jury as she asked the question.

“Mr. Thompson then fled on foot.”

“He fled on foot. So he ran?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Megan looked back to Jamie.

“Could you please explain to the court what happened next?”

“Detective Samuels and I then gave chase. After approximately two blocks, the defendant stopped running and surrendered.”

“Do you know why he suddenly stopped running and surrendered?”

Jamie shrugged.