WLUV Box Set: Ignited, Consumed, Burned (25 page)

Deep
inside, though, she didn’t think he meant to hurt her. What she knew is that she
didn’t matter. When all she could do was think about him, all it took for him
was one moment and she had fallen from his mind, completely. He’d forgotten her
so quickly it frightened her. And now, for whatever reason Mac was here and she
didn’t trust herself around him. Shelby had given her heart, her soul, and her
body to this person who didn’t even care enough to shoot her a break-up text.
The only protection she had now was to stay away and not let him talk to her.

What had
he said about not being with Karen? Right. She’d seen the pictures herself. So
now not only was he bossy but he was a liar.

At three
minutes to eleven she walked into the main room of the union hall. Mac was
there, already set up with the camera, ready to shoot her live shot. He handed
her the mic and she plugged her earpiece in so she could hear the newscast and
the producer’s cues.

Without a
hitch, she delivered her live report, tossed to her story, recited her tag, and
then tossed it back to Fawn in the studio. Just a few months ago, she would
have tripped up over any one of these things; now, with her heart broken and
the man who broke it staring at her from just ten feet away, she could do her
job, and do it well. She wondered if that was a good thing. Was she calloused
now? She had Mac to blame for that.

“Ready?”
She felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Brick, he’d promised to drive her home
so she wouldn’t be forced to go in the engineering van, or worse— with Mac.

And sure,
she remembered what Brick’s presence had done to Mac at the gala. She wasn’t
above being petty. She put her hand on top of Brick’s and gave it a little
squeeze as a thank you.

It proved
to be a bad arrangement. When Mac put two and two together, he surged forward
and gave Brick a shove. Shelby jumped back and squealed in disbelief. The
mayoral candidate stumbled backward but recovered quickly.

“That was
a bad decision pal.” Brick punched Mac square in the jaw.

It looked
like it should have laid him out, but Mac could take a punch. He spit on the
floor and wound up to return it. They were, however, in a police union hall.
Within seconds, swarms of men were everywhere, holding Mac back, holding Brick
back. Shelby lost her footing in the throng and fell to the ground.

She heard
Mac say something like, “You’d better not have any ideas.”

Brick spat
back, “She’s a hell of a lot safer here than with the likes of you.”

Shelby
brushed herself off, but she was still kneeling as she watched uniformed officers
dragging Mac off. A few feet away, Brick was surrounded by a concerned-looking
group of people. It was his campaign staff and he was assuring them that he
wasn’t going to hit anyone else. He caught her eye and came over to her.

“Are you
okay?” He extended two hands and helped her up.

“I’m okay,
but what a mess. I’m so sorry. Where are they taking Mac?” She asked.

“They’re
going to throw him in a squad car until he cools down, maybe in a cell for a
few hours.” Brick explained as he ran his fingers through his tousled hair.

“Are you
pressing charges?” Shelby felt tears sting the back of her eyes.

“No, don’t
worry. Between you and me, I think this little scene did me a favor. I landed a
great punch in front of a few people who thought I was just a pretty boy. He’s
like, America’s sweetheart right now so no, I won’t be the villain who charges
him with assault.  Let him cool down and then they’ll let him out. We’ll chalk
it up to a misunderstanding and hey I get a few bad-ass points. C’mon, I’ll
take you home. I’ll look even better if I rescue the pretty reporter.”

“Thank
you.”

Shelby
didn’t really know what the hell was going on. She just knew she wanted out of
there.

That
couldn’t have gone any worse.

After the
damn cops let him go Mac headed back to get his car and planned to make a
beeline to Shelby’s apartment. He was unlocking his car when he heard a grating
voice.

“Breaking
into a car now? Wanna add that to your disorderly conduct?” Fucking Brick
Cooper.

“This
night is just getting better and better. You here to collect on that punch I
owe you?”

“Maybe.
But my hand is sore as hell.” Cooper wiggled his fingers.

“Thanks
for not pressing charges. But let’s get this straight—you ever put your hands
on her again, I will pull your head through your asshole.” Mac spat out the
words.

“That’s
the worst thank you I’ve ever heard.” Cooper was laughing, but Mac was in no
mood. He needed to get to Shelby.

“What do
you want?” Mac was done with Mr. Wannabe Mayor and ready to drive off.

 “Since
you don’t seem able to figure out how to clean up your mess, and because my
sister and I happen to love the heck out of Shelby, I’m going give you a tip.
You’re not going to find Shelby at home.”

Brick
Cooper had barely finished telling him where to find Shelby when Mac slammed on
the gas and drove away.

Thanks to
Cooper’s tidbit, he went to the Grand Inner City Ballet instead of her
apartment. He didn’t know how Cooper could let his sister live in this building
in this part of town, but she did. He pounded on the door and Miss Dara
answered.

“Studio.
She hasn’t slept in days. I told her she could use the studio and work some
things out.” Miss Dara was elegant even in a fuzzy robe.

“Thank
you.”

“And Mac?”

“Yes?”

“You
better not dance around an apology. You owe her a big one.” Then Miss Dara gave
him a wink.

“Yes,
ma’am.” Mac headed down the hall to the studio as Dara went back to her loft
apartment.

“
Miss
”
Dara called back and he heard her door close upstairs.

He headed
to the practice studio. The music guided him to the right place. In the shadow
of the entrance, his breath caught at the beautiful sight of Shelby.
Interrupting seemed almost seemed a crime, so he hid there when he saw her, and
just watched.

She was so
beautiful, her tiny body a center of power and movement. She danced to music he
didn’t know or understand. It had a driving beat, yet it was mournful at the
same time. Shelby was in her own world, processing her emotions as she leaped
and twisted across the floor. He stood hypnotized by her motion, her sweat, and
ultimately some sort of anguish, an anguish that he’d caused. If she would
listen to him, and if she could forgive him, he’d spend the rest of his life
making sure he never caused her pain again.

Mac didn’t
want to disrupt her movement, but he needed to be near her. He was compelled
forward by something outside of himself, the love he had, their polar
attraction. He would be close to her again or at least try like hell. She was
focused inward, intently in her own world and didn’t see him until he caught
her mid spin.

“What
the—? Let me go, Mac.” He trapped her in his arms, but she didn’t struggle very
hard.

“No, I’m
not going to let you go. Ever. I’m sorry. I should have told you where I was
going. Hell, I should have taken you with me.” He was trying to explain as fast
as he could before she bolted. He tightened his arms around her waist so she
knew it would be near impossible to flee.

“What,
take me with you so I could be there while you reunited with the love of your
life? Are you
trying
to hurt me more? I think you’ve done enough damage,
thank you” Tears were at the corners of Shelby’s eyes and it killed him.

“Karen
Keith is not the love of my life. You are. We weren’t even a one-night stand.
She was my coworker, maybe even a partner in news, but listen. That bitch is
crazy.” Mac knew that in Shelby’s eyes the woman was a hero to look up to but
figured maybe she needed to understand what some of these people were made of.

“That’s a
nice thing to say about someone you looked awfully cozy with. Someone you could
easily forget me in a second over.” Shelby pushed back against him, but Mac
held fast.

“I fucked
up. I totally fucked up. But
you
are the love of my life. Are you
listening?” Shelby stopped squirming and it was just the opening he needed, a
tiny window of opportunity.

He leaned
over and bent her backward. She was rigid but not struggling and Mac devoured
her mouth with his. She resisted, but Mac didn’t care. She would understand
with her lips what she refused to believe with her brain.

Mac lifted
her up and she reluctantly put her arms around his neck. She opened her mouth
and god yes, she kissed back, Mac was beyond control. He walked her toward the
wall of the studio and pressed her up against the mirror as she wrapped her
legs around his waist. They were all legs and arms and need. He kissed her
neck, trapped her lips in his, he couldn’t get enough of her. She didn’t fight
but instead returned his desperate embrace with her own.

“I’m so
sorry lamb, so sorry. I promise.” He raked his lips across hers, nudged to her
neck and bit the soft skin there. He wanted to consume every inch of her, to
make her understand. Then he heard her whisper.

“Mac, I
love you, even if you are a total asshole.”

He pulled
his head back and looked into her beautiful, purple-blue eyes, wet with tears,
hope, youth, and even trust. Trust that he wasn’t going to jeopardize again.

“I love
you too.” He gave her another kiss, “And you’re right, I am an asshole. You can
punish me any way you want.”

“Really?”
She smiled.

Mac felt
like he could breathe again like he hadn’t truly gotten a breath in days. He’d
broken both of their hearts just by being himself, and here she was, ready to
love him again. He put his head on her neck. Something about that skin under
her earlobe it was irresistible to him. “Really.”

“Then put
me down. You’re going to dance with me.”

Emotional
breakthrough aside, Mac wasn’t ready to process a dance request. “Can’t we go
to your place and dance?” He hitched her up and grabbed her backside. He’d
carry her home this way if he had to.
That
was dancing he could handle.

“Later.”
And she hopped down away from him.

She walked
over to the studio’s sound system and pushed a button to change the song. The
mournful rhythm changed to something more inviting. Mac started to listen to
the words but then saw Shelby put her arms out and beckon him forward.

“I’m not a
dancer, Shelby. I hate dancing.”

Her
eyebrows arched at this pronouncement, and he knew he was doomed. “You’ve been
bossing me around for weeks. It’s my turn. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

Mac walked
towards her with slumped shoulders, knowing he was in no position to argue. He
put one arm around her waist and the other in her hand.

She
whispered in his ear, “Lesson one…rip my dress off,” Her teeth scored the edge
of his sharp jaw, “Then take my panties off with your teeth.” The two of them
stepped closer to each other, warming to their own dance rhythm. Shelby latched
onto his earlobe “Now bang me senseless on the floor.”

“Lamb
really isn’t the right nickname for you…”

“Didn’t I
already tell you that?”

He decided
to listen to her this time and followed her dance instructions to a tee.

The End….

Fawn -
Today

“Hello,
Betty. My name is Fawn.” Fawn Clawson introduced herself to her own mother
every day at around lunch time.

Betty
Claussen had been a resident of Park Lake Homes for the last decade. Fawn had
been caring for her at home before that, until the kitchen fire, followed by
the wandering in the neighborhood.

Fortunately,
Fawn’s job as the main anchor for WLUV meant she didn’t have to go into work
until after lunch.  So she ate lunch with her mother every day. Some days were
better than others. Today Betty recognized Fawn.

“You’re
that pretty lady on the news! That’s how I know you. I knew you looked
familiar.” Betty’s eyes sparkled for a moment as she made the connection. “You
know you could smile more. You always seem so serious.”

Betty did
not seem to recognize Fawn as her daughter today. It had been months since that
light came on and when it did, it upset Betty so much to have forgotten her own
daughter that Fawn didn’t really want her mother to go through it again. Betty
recognizing her as the television news lady would do.

“We have
the same last name!” Betty realized, and Fawn was impressed. It was an
improvement, even if just a temporary one.

“Yes. But
you spell yours like this,” Fawn wrote it down on the whiteboard where she
sometimes left questions or notes for the caregivers. “Claussen.”

“I spell
mine like this, Clawson.” Fawn was ordered to change the spelling by some long
ago news director because he liked the internal alliteration of Fawn Clawson.

“That’s
because you have to
claw
in news right?” Betty made Fawn laugh. Fawn had
learned long ago to take these moments and love them and not push for more.
Pushing her mother led to frustration for Betty and anguish for Fawn.

Betty
stopped talking to Fawn and looked up at the television screen where Channel 10,
WLUV, broadcast their noon newscast. Fawn was still amazed at the progress that
Macy Green had made. In less than a year, they’d gone from a distant number
three to, on some days, battling it out for number one in the ratings. Macy
fought hard to bring a noon newscast to WLUV since WBPN, the number one
station, also did a midday newscast.

Fawn
watched little Shelby Virtue struggle a bit as the noon fill-in anchor. She
wasn’t quite as smooth or commanding on the anchor desk as she needed to be,
but Fawn could see the kid was improving every day. Shelby was passionate about
her stories and she still leaped into every assignment with gusto. Fawn
remembered a time when she did the same, dove headfirst into everything.
Ultimately, though, she’d learned her lesson about that.

She needed
to support her mother and so she couldn’t afford to be selfish. She would never
risk her heart or career again. Back when she was in Shelby Virtue’s shoes,
she’d made a colossal mess of both. But Fawn had learned. Perhaps Shelby would
too.

Fawn shook
her head remembering those days when she was younger.
It’s better now
,
she thought to herself. She kept her career and her emotions under control
and managed to avoid messy romantic entanglements.

 “Oooh.
Who’s that man?” Betty asked as the noon newscast showed footage of the
swearing-in of Grand City’s new mayor, Brick Cooper.

“Nobody,”
Fawn answered.

“I think
he’s handsome. I bet he smells good. Is it time for you to go? I’d like to
nap.” With that, Betty shut down. Fawn couldn’t risk kissing her mother on the
forehead. She could only do that when Betty was totally asleep. Strangers
didn’t give kisses.

Fawn left
Park Lake Homes with the fleeting thought that her life was filled with
strangers. It was as she’d arranged. She’d told her mother the truth about the
man they’d watched on the TV screen, Brick Cooper.

He was
nobody to her, but it hadn’t always been so.

Brick
Cooper Fifteen years ago…

Patrolman
Cooper had become an instant celebrity in Grand City. The news was calling it
the Valentine’s Day Rampage as they pieced together the story in the days that
followed.

A scorned
boyfriend, a man named Todd Fetters, had gone into a jealous rage and shot his
ex-girlfriend, and then he shot a man who didn’t get out of his car fast enough
when Fetters was trying to steal it. That’s when it got really dangerous.

When
neighbors called for help, Fetters shot at the ambulance, killing the driver.
He continued shooting, at anything or everything that got in his way, as he
drove off in the stolen vehicle.

The
situation was about as confusing as it possibly could be for the police
scanners and dispatchers—multiple crime scenes, a gunman on the move, and panic
at who Todd Fetters would shoot next. All of it combined for a high-pressure
situation that needed to be solved, and quickly.

Police
channels advised that Fetters was headed for the town’s most traveled intersection
in the middle of rush hour, and units from all over the city tried to
anticipate Fetter’s direction. At the same time, other law enforcement officers
worked to direct innocent drivers out harm’s way. Two cruisers crashed in the
attempt to get Fetters to stop.

He was
creating random and deadly chaos, and there was no telling who he would kill
next. Nearly every officer in the city began to triangulate around him and they
did their best to block every possible exit in Grand City. 

Brick
Cooper was in the passenger seat of his police car. His partner at the time,
John Delany, was driving down an angled side street to try to intercept the
gunman. All other traffic coming into the intersection had been blocked. Cooper
and Delaney had gotten in Fetters’ path in just enough time to do something
about him.

Cooper
could see the stolen blue Impala coming as he jumped out of his police vehicle.
He took a stance in the intersection with the car barreling toward him. He had
only seconds before he either got hit by the car or got out of the way. It was
a game of chicken. And Brick Cooper didn’t blink.

He had a
clean shot; he had good eyes, and good aim. So he took it. The bullet broke
through the windshield and hit Fetters right between the eyes. The blue Impala
came to a stop just inches from Cooper, but stop it did—with Fetters slumped
over the wheel, his foot heavy on the brake.

Brick
Cooper’s path to the mayor’s office started with that moment.

Cooper
didn’t so much as break a sweat in the moment and was young enough to have
never doubted himself. Although stopping Todd Fetters was a big deal to Grand
City it was not such a big deal to Brick Cooper. It was his job, what he signed
up for.

In the
aftermath Delany walked up to him, the intersection was still blocked with
cones and police tape, police photographers were documenting every inch of the
scene. “Hey Coop, the chief says you’re supposed to talk to that hot piece of
ass reporter over there.”

Cooper
followed his partner’s gaze to where the beautiful reporter stood with her
cameraman and microphone. “Hell, no problem. But why?”

Cooper
eyed the long legs, the high heels, the coat cinched around a trim waist, and
figured the reporter to be the iciest-looking blonde he’d ever seen. This would
be the best part of his day for sure.

“Don’t be
a dumbass. The department needs to get ahead of the public relations after this
little shooting rampage, especially after you ended it with a bullet in broad
daylight. Just make sure we look like heroes, not cowboys okay?”

“What were
we supposed to do? Let this guy keep killing people?” Brick couldn’t imagine
that anything other than a bullet was the right solution for Todd Fetters.

“I’m with
you on this one. But you know how they spin it, like he had a rough childhood
or some other bullshit. Chief says we need everyone on our side. Make sure that
ice queen over there knows that if it wasn’t for us, this would have been way
worse.” Delany was also staring at the reporter and for some reason Cooper
decided he didn’t like it.

“Oh yeah,
and we’re taking bets on how long it takes you to bang that reporter. I’ve got
you down for just a few hours but some of the other guys say it will take you a
few weeks to get on that.” Delany added.

“Hours,eh?
I appreciate the confidence.” Cooper began to walk over to where she was
standing with her photographer, an older-looking guy with the beginnings of a potbelly.

Close up,
the reporter was stunning. She had light blue eyes, a straight nose, that he
noticed was up in the air a bit, and a jawline that could cut glass. The guys
who were playing the long game for him getting in bed with her were probably
right. It might take weeks with this one. Although she was young – around his
age, he guessed – she looked like she had high standards. She was the classiest
thing he’d ever seen, except maybe that movie star Grace Kelly.

Cooper
turned on his charm, one-hundred percent; he looked her up and down, then right
into her eyes, and put out a hand.

“I’m
Patrolman Brick Cooper. My boss said you wanted to interview me.” She was
wearing butter-soft black leather gloves and reached out her hand in return.

The
handshake, that’s when the over/under changed. She had to have felt what he
felt. The charge he got from her handshake was out of proportion to the act. He
wondered if he was still on an adrenaline high from the taking down Fetters.

But he was
sure he saw the pretty reporter’s breath catch as well, and he held onto that
leather glove a little longer than was necessary for a proper handshake, just
to start giving her the message.

“I’m Fawn
Clawson, WBPN. This is my photographer, Bernie Manfred. They say you’re the
hero of the day, Patrolman Cooper. Can we ask a few questions?”

“Sure, the
boss said it was okay, so ask away.” He wanted to impress her. He’d just shot a
man who was terrorizing the city, that should be enough, but Brick stood up a
little straighter around this tall drink of water reporter, just to be sure.

“Just look
at me, not the camera, if you look at the camera you’ll look like a weasely
politician running for office.” She gave him a wink. Well then, she
was
flirting with him. Or was this her standard shtick before interviews? Cooper’s
balance was shaken for a second by her light blue eyes – and that handshake –
but he was nothing if not quick on his feet.

“Looking
at you will be the best view I’ve had all year.” Take
that,
Miss
Reporter. Brick wanted to see if he could make her sweat a little.

“Thanks. Now,
weren’t you scared? What was it like to face down that car barreling straight
at you?” Fawn Clawson’s voice was tougher than her look. It wasn’t high like
younger women, but low, almost raspy, but not quite. It was a voice that made
you listen. He wanted her to keep talking but realized it was his turn to
answer.

He said
what he knew his bosses would want him to say. “I was just doing my job. Any
other officer would have done the same. Everybody in the department played a
role in stopping the suspect today. Our dispatchers back at the center were
also critical in getting the crews in the right positions.”

The
reporter asked several more questions and then the interview was over. As her
photographer folded up the tripod, Cooper decided to continue the theme of the
day and take a bold action.

“One more
thing Fawn, off the record.” Cooper dropped his voice to a whisper. She had to
lean in so that she practically put her ear to his lips.

God, she
smelled like a flower—dammit, like lilacs. It almost stopped him. She might be
way out of his league but screw it. Men probably always treated her like a princess
or an ice queen. Cooper felt something different underneath that smooth
exterior. She needed a push. He put a hand on her wrist and another on her
elbow. Anyone on the street would think she was getting an inside tip, a little
scoop.

“Yes,
Patrolman Cooper.” She blinked her dark lashes over those blue eyes and it
distracted the hell out of him but he charged full speed ahead.

“I need to
fuck your brains out, tonight, after your shift. Meet me at The Bunker. One
drink and then we’re out of there.” She blinked again, this time a slower.
Those
eyes are deadly,
he thought.

“Is that
an order or a request, Patrolman Cooper?” She was so cool and even, but despite
her reserve she didn’t slap him or pull away in shock. He even saw the corners
of her beautiful lips turn up. She wanted to smile.

“It’s an
order. And call me Brick. That’s a request.” He made sure he brushed his lips
on her ear lobe as he spoke.

“Well
Brick, I’ll think about it. But you’ll have to ask me a lot nicer and that
better be one stiff drink.”

Whoa
. The way she said “stiff” did
things he wasn’t expecting. That ice queen business was an act, he knew it.

Fawn
Clawson slipped her arm from his hands and walked to her news vehicle.

 The rest
of the day it was all he could do to focus on the reams of paperwork in
post-event debriefing and official records. Apparently shooting a suspect in
broad daylight in the middle of the street is the kind of thing that happens in
old Westerns, not in Western Michigan.