by Rachel Smith
Guess that kinda backfired.
Shit.
I was supposed to be off duty today, and if I hadn’t gotten the call about Brandon last night, I’d probably still be in bed with her sweet ass right now.
Balls deep in her warm heat if I had my way.
I shifted the hard-on in my pants. Just the thought of her got me all sorts of worked up.
But duty calls.
Pulling into an open spot in front of the station, I effectively pushed all thoughts of Lizzie’s sexy body aside. I needed to focus on the job.
Brandon had been playing this ‘cat-and-mouse’ game with me for over a week now. With his dad scheduled for release later today, there had to be something more going on with the kid than he led on.
I cut the engine but stayed in the truck, trying to decide how to work this today. Raftzen had called me in the night before because Brandon had been picked up for petty theft. A convenience store clerk saw him stuff two frozen burritos inside his coat. Not a big deal, typically, except the stench of liquor permeated from the kid’s pores.
Since I’d been involved with him twice before, Raftzen figured I had the best chance of getting him to open up.
He was wrong.
Last night, the tough cop routine got me nowhere. Even drunk off his ass, Brandon kept quiet. Instead of wasting my night with a boozy, surly teenager, I decided to let him ride out a night in the tank. See if a little tough love would whip his ass into shape.
I jogged up the concrete stairs and entered through the front door. Stopping at my desk, I checked for any new messages before I made my way to the interrogation room.
“You want a brief?” Alan asked as I entered the adjoining room. Through the two-way mirror, I saw Brandon seated at the table, waiting, looking very much the rebellious teenager. Heavy bags settled beneath both eyes. I guess he hadn’t slept much the night before.
“Quick.”
“Obviously you’re aware that we picked him up at the Shop & Go. Petty theft at first, officers smelled booze and did a field test.”
“I already know this shit, Raftzen, why are you wasting my time with it all again?”
“Because what you don’t know, is that after the officers searched his coat, they found this.” He held out his hand.
Glancing down, I stilled. “Not surprised the kid smokes pot, Alan, given the shithole conditions swirling around his life.”
Alan sighed and tossed the baggie on the table. “I’m not worried about a little pot. What I’m worried about is him working over Big Willy in the tank last night.”
I turned to face him. “What do you mean by working him over?”
“Telling him he can hook him up with that,” he pointed to the pot, “and more. Now, this kid isn’t dumb. First off, Big Willy is in here so often, I’m surprised he doesn’t just have his mail forwarded to the damn place. He’s a drunk. Sloshed as shit last night and barely able to keep his eyes open. Still, Brandon kept at him. Trying to get him to buy. Also, he knows we’ve got eyes on that cell at all times. He knew what would happen if he laid that shit out for Big Willy. He wanted us to hear it. So I need you to get in there and find out what the hell he’s trying to tell us without actually telling us.”
Hands planted firmly on my hips, I looked down at my boots. “He’s giving us clues but doesn’t want to be a snitch.”
“Exactly.”
“Probably because he’s been warned what’ll happen if he goes to the cops with what he knows.”
“Bingo,” Alan replied.
“All right,” I muttered, my mind going over how I could twist this without Brandon catching on to the fact that I know his game.
“One more thing.” Alan handed me a slip of paper covered in numbers. Brandon’s name was at the top.
“What is this?”
“Bloodwork,” he answered. “Cop that pulled him in thought the breathalyzer was busted last night, measuring all zeroes each time Brandon blew.”
I looked up, confused.
Alan nodded toward the paper. “Labs confirmed it. Kid didn’t have a drop of alcohol in his system.”
What the hell? “He smelled like the inside of a whiskey bottle.” I ran my fingers through my hair, going over each piece of information in my mind. “He even acted like he was smashed.”
The theft, smelling like booze, the pot. All in a public place. Being so vocal while he was locked up overnight.
“Shit,” I whispered and turned to enter the room.
Raftzen reached out and grabbed my bicep, halting me just before I went in. “I know you’re worried about this kid. But you need to go in there with your head on straight. You’re a cop, not his friend.”
My teeth ground together as I jerked my arm from his hold. “I know how to do the goddamn job, Raftzen. I was with the FBI for years, I’m not a fucking idiot,” I hissed and pushed open the door, entering the interrogation room.
Red-rimmed eyes looked up to meet mine. My heart lurched for the hell this kid had been through in the last few weeks. And with the case stalled on his mother’s killer, it only made the situation worse.
“You doing all right?” I asked.
He shifted in his seat and I caught the slight wince when his arms moved. Throwing caution to the wind, I pulled my key chain off my belt and opened his cuffs.
Somewhere behind me, Alan Raftzen probably had a fricken’ heart attack, but I didn’t give a shit.
“Thanks,” Brandon whispered as he rubbed the chaffed skin at his wrists.
I sat on the corner of the table. “So… what’s up?”
His head jerked back, confusion etched on his face, brows furrowed low over his eyes. “Uh, nothing.”
“Okay, let’s try this again. Why’d you want to get locked up?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Well, at least you’re talking to me this morning.”
His eyes rolled in a circle. Typical teenager.
“So… why’d you want to get caught?”
“What makes you think I want to be here, huh? I got drunk, smoked a little weed, and had the munchies. Shop & Go is the only place in town with the frozen burritos that I like.”
I rubbed my finger across my chin, making him think I was deep in thought. The more I stared, the more he began to fidget. So, I kept at it, making him sweat before I finally spoke. “Nope, don’t buy it.”
His head jerked up, eyes narrowed as he said, “Why the fuck not?”
“You want to know why, huh?” He didn’t respond as I began to pace the room. “You see… and, correct me if I’m wrong here at any time… I think you got busted on purpose last night. You went to the Shop & Go knowing damn well they have cameras perched all over that place. You also know old lady Maxine behind the counter wouldn’t hesitate to call the cops on your stupid ass. In fact, I bet she clocked your intentions the minute you stepped foot on her turf, smelling like a damn bar. Because, of course, to make matters a bit more believable, you dumped a little booze on your shoes before you went in there. Hell, maybe you even took a swig so your breath smelled of it, too. And the kicker was having the baggie of pot. That was the icing on the cake, right? Get caught. Be sure your ass is thrown in jail. The question, Brandon, is why?”
I turned to face him when I finished, hoping he’d give me some sort of clue. His mouth hung open in shock, eyes wide, and face pale.
Bingo. I’d figured him out.
“Now I’m sure you’re wondering how I know all this. Well, besides just being an awesome cop, of course. You see, you may not have realized this, but when you blew in that little black box last night, it measured your blood alcohol level. And imagine my surprise when I checked your file, only to see you blew zeroes. Across the board. Even on the second attempt because the cop who arrested you thought he’d done it wrong.”
“Maybe the thing was busted.” He shrugged.
I nodded in agreement. “Yeah, that could be it. Exce
pt they took blood, remember? And labs came back that you were clean. So while the breathalyzer could have been broken, a vial filled with your blood does not lie. You were sober as a damn judge last night.”
He looked down at the table, hands twisted together as he rubbed them back and forth.
“So,” I held up a finger. “Blatant attempt to steal, knowing damn well you’d get caught.” I held another finger. “Making it appear like you were drunk off your ass, when actually, you didn’t have one drop of booze in your system.” I held up a third finger. “The very small amount of pot found in your coat, which I wonder if it’s really drugs, or oregano from your spice cabinet.”
“It’s not…”
“And finally,” I cut him off, holding up a fourth finger. “The little speech to Big Willy about how you can hook him up with more drugs when you know that cell is monitored because each corner of the place is rigged with a very large, very obvious camera.”
We stared at one another for a beat, then another and another. No words spoken, neither of us backing down. Finally, the door opened and Raftzen stepped into the room.
“Lexington, a word?”
I nodded and followed him through the door. He didn’t have anything to say, but knew it was time to give the kid a little space, let him think on things for a bit. So we stood in the adjoining room, watching the walls Brandon Waters had built around himself crumble and fall.
One painful brick at a time.
I looked away and shuffled through some papers on the table, giving him a moment of privacy as he broke down. I had to give the kid credit; he beat most of his emotion back. Only a few tears escaped before he wiped them away.
Pulling in a deep breath through his nose, he composed himself, so I decided to head back into the room. My phone vibrated against my belt and I smiled when Lizzie’s sexy face lit up the screen.
“A minute.” I held up a finger to Raftzen and answered the call.
“Lexington.”
Her soft giggle floated through the line. “Oh, so official. Sorry, did I call at a bad time?”
I felt myself soften. “I’ll always make time for you, but I do need to get back into the interrogation room.”
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll talk fast. I just heard from the bank and everything is set to go. I get possession of the space in two weeks!”
“That’s great, honey. I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks.”
“I have to let you go, babe. I shouldn’t be too much longer here and I’ll be home.”
“Okay,” she replied. “You want to stay at your place tonight or mine?”
My chest clenched, knowing she wanted to be with me again tonight. And damn, it felt good knowing she did. “Up to you,” I replied.
“I’ve got a few places in my house I’d like to break in,” she said nonchalantly. “We’ve already covered the front door, so I think maybe the kitchen table, the bathtub, and of course, my bed.”
I chuckled. “Sounds like a busy night.” I dropped my voice to a whisper, feeling Alan’s eyes burning into my back. “I can’t wait.”
“Okay. I’ll be the naked one, waiting for my hot cop to come home and read me my rights.”
I grinned.
“I’m just here to serve and protect, babe.”
She giggled on the other end of the line and my cock stirred to life.
“See ya then.”
“Yeah, later.”
As I clipped the phone back onto my belt, I looked up to find Alan staring. Eyebrows raised, eyes glittering with amusement. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he drawled.
“Shut up.”
“No, seriously. Settling down, being all domestic. It suits you.” His smile stretched wide across his face. “I’ll tell my wife. You two can come over some night for dinner. I have a feeling I need to see this version of Alex Lexington with my own damn eyes.”
“Whatever, I’ve got work to do,” I muttered and walked back into the interrogation room, hearing Alan’s laughter ring out behind me.
I only made it two steps before Brandon’s panicked eyes met mine. “I’ll talk.”
I nodded. “Good, but before we start, I want to get you hooked up with a counselor.”
He shook his head, ready to argue when I cut him off. “You need professional help, Brandon, to work through all the shit that’s gone down in your life. I know you’re eighteen now, but you’re still just a kid, and you need to talk to someone who can help you work through these feelings, all right?”
He glared at me. “Fine,” he clipped.
“Okay, I’m listening.”
Brandon took a deep breath and let it out. Words fell from his lips rapidly as he filled me in on his dumbass father and how he’d gotten messed up selling pot.
Then smoking all the pot himself.
Fucking idiot.
Now the asshole was buried deep in piles and piles of debt, getting himself under a mess he’d never be able to dig out of.
For the next hour, I didn’t talk. Instead, I listened to the kid spew some seriously fucked-up shit going on in my town. With each passing minute, my anger built, until it consisted of a raging ball of fire.
I had to get out of there. Get back home and let Lizzie erase my day before I did anything stupid. And then… then I would get to work bringing these assholes down.
First up, paperwork to ensure Paul Waters’ ass stayed in a cell. He took the meaning of shitty father and elevated it to an extreme level. A little more time in jail wouldn’t hurt him.
Next, find Johnny Trellis.
And put my motherfucking fist through his face.
15
Lizzie
I ended the call with Alex, stretched out on his giant bed and smiled. My dream firm in the works and a hot cop boyfriend.
Life was great.
I spent the rest of my morning placing orders for office furniture, supplies, and random decorations. With the loan secured, I could finally move forward and buy all the things I’d had on hold for weeks.
Excitement bubbled inside my chest. I couldn’t remember a time I’d been so happy. My outlook on life a blur of sunshine and roses. Except maybe when I first started seeing Erik.
“Elizabeth, are you free tonight?”
I looked up from my computer, lost in thought as I worked through the Morrison files. Whoever had handled their account before me did a horrible job. I’d found numerous places with journal entries keyed in wrong, or completely ignored all together.
“I’m sorry, did you say tonight? Um… let me check my calendar.” I was free, obviously, but I didn’t want my hot boss to know I had no life outside of the office.
I flipped open my planner, looked up and smiled. “Seems I’m wide open tonight.”
Erik smiled. “Great, can you meet me back here by seven?”
“I suppose.” Odd, but whatever. If he’s asking me to dinner, why wouldn’t he just pick me up at my place?
“Perfect. I know a great little place just outside of the city.”
A small slither of unease slid through my mind, but I quickly pushed it aside. Getting out of the city sounded exciting. “It’s a date.”
The tinny ring of Alex’s doorbell pulled me out of my daydream. Funny how hindsight is twenty-twenty. Looking back now, of course he wanted to take me out of the city. That way we wouldn’t risk running into anyone he knew who could tell his wife he was out with another woman.
And meeting at the office? I shook my head. Duh. Just duh, Lizzie. How did I not realize this before? It was clearly right in front of my face.
The doorbell sounded again, followed by a steady knock this time.
“I’m coming!” I shouted, hoping they’d calm down.
I’m not sure what I expected when I pulled open the door, but the angry face of a green-eyed spitfire caught me off guard.
“So… how was the date?” Charlie’s eyes glared into mine, her jaw set tight, hands perched on her hips. Her baby bump was ginormous
now, as she was just a few weeks away from her due date.
“Decent,” I shrugged and walked back into the house. Not wanting to play her game, I made myself comfortable on the couch and grabbed the remote to turn on the television.
“Decent,” she repeated firmly as she stepped inside and shut the door. “Decent?”
I looked up at her, annoyed. “That’s what I said.”
“Had to be better than decent considering you’re still at Alex’s house the next day, wearing his shirt, no less.”
I looked down at myself but didn’t respond. Charlotte stood in front of the television, effectively blocking my view. “Talk,” she demanded.
“Nah, I’m good.”
“Damnit, Liz.” She stomped her foot loudly against the floor, huffing and puffing before her eyes shifted to my bandaged hand. “What is that all about? Are you hurt?”
I cradled my sore hand with the other, running my thumb over the palm where I’d been cut. Just to piss her off further, I still didn’t answer.
“Okay, fine. What do I have to do to get you to talk?”
“Simple, really.” I looked up at her. “Quit with the judgy, overbearing mother act. I’m an adult. Alex is an adult. Neither of us want nor need your permission to see each other. And it’s not any concern of yours why I’m still here this morning. Our private life is just that… private. I don’t need to explain myself to you, Charlotte. So cool your jets.”
“Fine,” she sighed, her shoulders sagging in defeat, but she finally looked relaxed. “I’m sorry. I just worry, you know?”
I nodded. “Oh yeah, Alex filled me in on your inappropriate warning. Thanks for that, by the way. Every guy wants to date a girl with a crazy, threatening sister.”
“Sorry,” she muttered.
“No you’re not.”
“Okay fine, I’m not. But back to the date,” she went on. “Decent?”
I giggled. “Well, it started out fantastic. The middle was horrible, seeing as I’m a giant klutz.” I held up my bandaged hand as proof. “The actual part where we ate the dinner went well, and then he put in a scary movie.”