"Pink or yellow today?" Marie asked as she kept on walking.
"Pink!" Tillie raised her voice and Marie lifted a hand acknowledging her. She flopped back in the booth and sighed. "Sorry I'm late. I had a teleconference about next quarter's budget, and not only did they kill that topic, they resurrected it and killed it again. On and on and on. Thank goodness it was a teleconference. If it had been a video conference, they would have watched me load my fingers, put them to my brain and pull the trigger. It was painful.”
She chuckled at her friend's harried appearance. But that was Tillie, an F5 tornado on her calm days. The woman was her own energy turbine, but she was also fun, and the best friend Poet had ever had. When Poet moved into her apartment, Tillie, her next door neighbor, promptly introduced herself and the rest was, as they say, history.
"I doubt they would have enjoyed the visual." She wrinkled her nose at the idea of budgetary meetings. At least the sheriff handled all that crap. Moving up the food chain any farther would require her to delve into the muck of finances for the department. No thank you. "I couldn't do your job."
"Pfft... Money doesn't affect my creatives. I build them and give them to the people who put them online. They worry about the budget; I don't give a crap unless they stop paying me."
Marie did a drive-by with two large glasses in hand. One with pink lemonade and one with a refill of her iced tea. "You ladies ready to order?"
"I want the chef salad. Extra ranch dressing on the side and a slice of strawberry pie." Tillie tossed her order to Marie and then looked at her.
"BLT, fries, mayo on the side and I'll pass on dessert."
Marie nodded and turned away not even bothering to write down the order. In all the years they'd been meeting for their weekly lunch date, she'd never seen the woman write down an order, and she'd never had the order wrong. Unless they carved some time to meet, their crazy schedules, lives, and Tillie's classes kept them apart. Poet smiled and asked, "So what's new with you?"
"Same stuff, different day. Oh! Lyle finally asked me to go to dinner with him. I'm thinking, no."
Wait, what? "I thought you wanted the man to ask you out. Hell, you've been an outrageous flirt with him since he started teaching graphic arts with you!"
Tillie sighed, "Well, yeah, I did, like six months ago. He took his sweet time. I don't like the idea maybe I'm his second or third choice, you know? Like, it took him six months to ask me out." Tillie flopped back in the booth, bouncing her knees.
"Okay, stop. From what you tell me, Lyle is a nice guy. Did you ever think that maybe you intimidate him, and he had to build up the courage to ask you? You're kinda intense, yah know."
Tillie stopped moving. "I am?"
"Hell, yes. Give the guy a break. Go out to dinner with him. Don't kill any chance of a good time before you know for sure you won't have fun."
"Maybe."
"Not maybe. Sex is not overrated." She stared at Tillie and lifted an eyebrow.
Tillie's eyes narrowed and she leaned forward. "How the hell can you have black circles under your eyes and still look so… serene?" Tillie's eyebrows shot up. "You got laid!"
"Shhh!" She glanced around and smiled at Mrs. Jensen. The woman smiled sweetly and went back to pretending she wasn't listening to the conversation. She leaned forward and whisper hissed, "You're an ass. Why would you shout that?"
Tillie leaned forward and hissed back, "I'm sorry! Who? Hannaford or Granger?"
"No! I don't shit where I eat."
"Gross!"
She waved a dismissive hand. "You know what I mean." She'd never date the men in the department. That would be disastrous. But she enjoyed men and yes, sex. The tiny town limited her potential partners. They leaned back as Marie approached with their meal.
Tillie bounced in her seat until the platters were deposited, and then as one, they leaned forward again. "Who?"
"You don't know him."
Tillie's head snapped back. "I don't know him? I call bullshit. This is a small town!"
"Shhh..."
"Okay, okay, but dish, will you?" Tillie grabbed her fork and stabbed her salad.
"No. Suffice to say he's not from around here." She wasn't going to compromise Maliki by telling anyone anything.
Tillie dropped her fork. "We share. We always share. What's up with this guy? Why are you acting different? Oh fuck, do you like have feelings for him?"
She picked up her sandwich and narrowed her eyes at her friend. "You don't have sex with people you don't have feelings for, even if it's just lust."
Tillie nodded and talked around a mouth full of lettuce, "Okay, let me rephrase, is this scratching an itch, or is this a rash, or maybe a permanent skin condition?"
She thought about that for a hot minute. "Scratching an itch. Not going to lie though, if he lived around here, I wouldn't mind a rash." Hell, the way the man had worked her body last night, she might entertain a permanent condition, but that wasn't going to happen.
"Was it good?" Tillie dipped her already dressed salad into a huge cup of ranch dressing.
A smile she didn't care to stop spread across her face. "Fan-fucking-tastic."
Tillie squealed and then laughed, her mouth full of food.
"Damn it, Til, will you please act semi-normal?"
Around her full mouth of food she smiled. "Hello, do you know me? Are you going to see him again?" Tillie shoved another forkful of salad into her mouth and waggled her eyebrows as she munched.
She grabbed several fries and dredged them through the mayo. "Maybe. I don't know. Last night could have been a one and done. I'm not sure." She popped them into her mouth and glanced up as the door opened. Fuck.
"What?" Tillie's eyes widened at her sudden change of mood. Her head snapped around and then sighed. "He is so damn good looking. Too bad he's your boss."
She picked up her sandwich and grumbled under her breath, "Looks only get you so far."
Tillie waved at Jim. He lifted a hand and strolled in their direction. Tillie scooted over and patted the bench seat. "Hi! Long time no see. How's life been treating you?"
"Tillie." Jim acknowledged her but didn't sit down. "Poet, I need to speak with you. Sorry for cutting your lunch short." He glanced at Tillie and smiled briefly.
"That's okay. Maybe I'll catch you tonight, Poet. We can finish this conversation then." Tillie laughed and shoved more lettuce into the ranch dressing.
She nailed her boss with a pissed off look and waited. Jim held her stare for a moment before he dipped his chin. Damn it. "I'll be right there." He nodded again and smiled at Tillie before he left.
She took a bite of her sandwich and wiped her hands.
"Whoa, what happened there?" Tillie stared wide-eyed.
"Nothing."
"That wasn't nothing. That... was a whole lot of pissed off." Tillie moved her finger between her and the space where Jim had stood.
"That was a whole lot of my boss overstepping his authority, but we'll fix it."
"Well, damn, I hope so. I don't like drama."
"Bullshit. You live for drama."
Tillie laughed. "Yeah, I do. Get the hell out of here. I'll get the check."
She slid from the booth and adjusted the weight of her gun belt. "Talk to you later." She headed to the door.
"Tonight. We are talking tonight." Tillie raised her voice. As if she wouldn't hear her. Sheesh. She lifted her hand in acknowledgement. She pushed the door open and found Jim waiting for her on the sidewalk.
"Walk with me." Jim turned and stepped off.
Grinding her teeth together she bit back her attitude and fell into step with him. "I don't believe we have anything to talk about."
Jim stopped and drew a deep breath. "Nah, we need to clear the air. I was out of line last night. Look, I don't let people know about the pressure I'm under, but there are a few issues that have affected me lately. I acted out, against Dr. Blue or Boswell, or whoever he is. The idea that Guardian was in my county was the straw that bro
ke my back. I overreacted."
"Then you aren't going to the Boswell estate?" She stared down the street and watched traffic at the four way stop.
"No, I'm going. I want to make sure the guy isn't stirring up shit for those folks. The Boswells are good people."
"And Dr. Blue isn't? That is rather presumptuous, isn't it?"
Jim shrugged; his leather gun belt creaked when he moved. "Perhaps. You seem to be enamored with him."
She swung her attention back to her boss and lifted her brows. "Meaning?"
"Aw, hell. Meaning nothing. It's just... something about that guy. He gets under my skin. I don't know what it is, call it a gut feeling. There is something there, and my instincts are screaming that he's dangerous."
"Really? I don't get that at all, and I've spent more time with him than anyone." Boy had she, and damn, she'd really like to spend even more time with him.
Jim jumped slightly and reached into his pocket. He grabbed his cell. "Watson." His eyes snapped to her. "Perfect. I'm on my way."
"Shauna is coming around. I'm heading over to the hospital."
Thank goodness. "Want company?"
"No, I've got this." He started to leave but stopped and turned back before he asked, "Are we okay?" The worry on her boss’ face lined his brow, making him look older than his years.
She nodded slowly. "Yeah. We're okay." Not really, but she'd let him believe they were. She valued her job. She liked working in the small department. What she started last night was putting her employment in jeopardy. Thank goodness she had resources beyond the job. That safety net gave her the ability and the nerve to beg for forgiveness rather than ask for permission... again.
"What are you doing for the rest of the afternoon?" He walked backward as he spoke. "Earning your keep?" A smirk she hadn't seen in a while crossed his face.
"I'll set up for traffic enforcement. It's quiet, for once."
"Thank God for small favors." Jim quipped as he spun and headed to his vehicle. She waited until he got in, made an illegal U-Turn and headed toward the hospital.
Forty minutes later, she'd taken up residence in her favorite turnout on the main road through the county. After calibrating her radar, she rolled down the windows and allowed the breeze to circulate through the SUV. This was the county she'd fallen in love with. Slow days, small crimes, and friendly patrolling. She tugged her cell phone from the holder at her hip and pushed the speed dial.
"Are you trying to write tickets again?" Her mother teased.
"I'm trying to relax, so yes, I'm set up and not looking too hard. What's up with you?" She glanced down the road seeing nothing but blacktop.
"Not much. We are going to dinner tonight with the Blacks. Your father has decided to try his hand at golf again."
"Oh no. How long before he throws out his back this time?" Poet chuckled at her father's expense. He'd injured his back on the front nine of the golf course they'd retired to in Florida. He'd fussed and fumed about putting the condo up for sale and never golfing again.
"Well, hopefully he won't any time soon. I signed him up for lessons with the Golf Pro on staff. Did you know learning proper form was a thing?"
"No, I didn't."
"Neither did your father. He was miffed that I paid money for the lessons, but I told him it was nonrefundable, so he's going."
"Is it nonrefundable?"
"Goodness, no, but we aren't telling him that."
"Mom, you're devious."
"Is this a surprise?"
"No, not really. I knew it when you tricked me into eating my green beans."
"I had to do something. You wouldn't eat a vegetable. But enough about us old farts. What's new with you?" Her mom's voice lilted. Ever hopeful.
"Well, let's see. There was an incident behind the roadside tavern two nights ago. A young woman was shot––"
Her mom gasped, "Oh my! Is she all right?"
"Should be. The sheriff was notified she was coming around earlier today."
"Did they find the person who shot her?"
"No, we haven't been able to find any leads. The sheriff is heading over to interview her and see if she can identify the person who shot her."
"This quiet county of yours isn't really all that quiet, is it?"
She drew a long breath and let it go. "Usually it's calm, boring even. There are always things happening, like everywhere else, there are people who think they can take what isn't there's. Vehicle accidents, small time drugs, petty shit."
"Language."
"Sorry, petty crimes."
"That does sound boring." Her mother chuckled humorlessly.
"Yeah, Mayberry RFD." Which was boring, but the pace was okay for her.
"With shootings behind bars."
"With that."
"Have you met anyone?"
A standard question that her mother played like a trump card. She stared sightlessly out the windshield for a moment. Visions of the gorgeous man with blond hair, blue eyes and a red beard flashed through her mind. "No one I'll be able to bring home and introduce to the parents."
There was silence. "Hello? Mom? Did I lose you?"
Her mother cleared her throat. "Ah, no, but you stunned me."
She laughed, "Yeah, how so?"
"The man you're seeing... you wouldn't bring him home to meet us?"
"No. He's only here for a short time. It isn't serious." And it's just sex, but hey what Momma didn't know wasn't going to come back to haunt her.
"I fell in love with your father the moment I saw him."
She smiled at the breathless comment. Damn, she wanted that someday. "He says the same thing."
"It's the truth. When you know, you know."
"And when I know, I'll tell you."
"Fair enough. What does this gentleman do for a living?"
"He's a doctor." No harm in telling her mother that.
"Really?"
"Yes, really. He's here visiting family. We met and hit it off." With lots and lots of orgasms.
"So, he could come back?"
"Sure, I guess, but it isn't like we're dating."
"Then what are you doing?"
Relieving stress and having great sex. "Having fun. What's up with Paul? I haven't heard from him in a while." A change of subject was absolutely required. Paul was her go to off ramp of any conversation. Her older brother was assigned to a submarine and was currently on sea duty.
"I got an email a couple days ago. He seems content, of course he doesn't tell me much."
"Probably can't, Mom. You don't exactly have a security clearance."
"Well, there is that. When are you going to be able to come down for a visit?"
"Don't know. I've volunteered to take on a project. Could be several months before I can get some time off. How about I try for a week around Labor Day?"
"That would be nice, but make sure you save enough vacation time to come home for Christmas. Paul should be back on shore by that time. What kind of project did you volunteer for?"
"Just something for the county, clearing up and closing old cases. Basic, boring, dull admin and gopher work, but it needs to be done so I raised my hand. I should have Christmas off. I worked it last year."
"Good. Now tell me about this man you're having fun with."
"Well would you look at that, Mom. I see a car going well over the speed limit." The old car that came over the hill was rusted and was rattling by at forty miles an hour. Max.
"Oh, did I step over the line, dear?"
"Yes, Mother."
"Fine, but don't hang up. I have gossip to tell you. Did you know Noreen's son was arrested for––"
Poet eased back into her seat and smiled as her mother detailed the gossip of the small retirement community.
A large black SUV crested the hill. She watched as the vehicle slowed and then turned on its signal indicating it was turning into the turnout where she'd parked. "Hey, Mom, I hate to interrupt, but I really have to go. Love you."
&nbs
p; "Okay. Love you––"
Poet disconnected the call and reached for her weapon, keeping her hand on the grip, finger outside of the trigger. The SUV parked beside her and the dark, tinted window wound down. Blond hair, those baby blue eyes and sexy as fuck beard were slowly revealed. He gave her a once over.
A smile spread across her face. "Well, well. Dr. Blue. How are you today?"
"Deputy Campbell. I'm very relaxed and slightly tired. You?"
Poet smiled and lifted her eyebrows several times. "About the same. Been to see your family?" She nodded down the roadway that led to several of the larger estates, the Boswells’ included.
"I was. May I interest you in dinner tonight? I have some information we need to go over."
"You could, but I'm thinking being seen together would still ruffle feathers. Unless you want to go to another town away from this county? Charlottesville? It's not a huge city, but big enough that we can get lost. Or, you could come over to mine again."
"Let's stick to your apartment, but I'll bring things for dinner and cook."
"That is a deal. What time?"
"Seven?"
"Perfect. You know where to park."
"I'll text before I come in to make sure you don't have any uninvited guests."
She shook her head. "That was surreal. He cornered me today on my lunch break. He apologized. Tried to explain that he's under pressure and that you set off his radar."
Maliki blinked in surprise and then chuckled. "Me?"
"Yup, said you gave off a dangerous vibe. Are you dangerous, Doc?" She smiled at him.
"Nah. I'm connected to dangerous people, but as far as I know none of those Guardian types are in the area."
That was interesting. "I've heard Guardian teams are made up of mercenaries. Is that true?"
He shrugged. "I've never met a mercenary, so I'm going to say no. The people who work for Guardian are screened at every stage of employment, vetted to a standard few can pass, highly trained, and tested continuously. They're the preeminent select of the elite, and they are extremely proficient at doing exactly what Guardian, and the country, requires of them. They are patriots and defenders who receive no credit for missions they perform. Not that any of them want recognition. The job doesn't lend itself to glory, only sacrifice."
Maliki (Guardian Defenders Book 2) Page 11