Covering Ollie (Police and Fire: Operation Alpha) (On Call Book 2)

by Freya Barker

  “You’re telling me.”

  “So, Ollie? Is she hot?” I know he’s just messing around, but that doesn’t stop me from shooting forward in my chair.

  “Back off, Ramirez.”

  He grins, shrugging his shoulders. “Because I may have some time to check in on her. Making sure she’s safe and all that.”

  “Forget it. Never mind. Just get the fuck out of here. Should’ve known better than to ask you. Asshole.”

  “Keep your knickers on, Chief. I’m yanking your chain. I can feel which way the wind is blowing, and let me be the first to say fucking thrilled for you, my friend.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lie.

  “Bullshit and you know it. How long have I known you? You may fool yourself, but you’re not fooling me. I don’t even need to meet the woman to know she’s got your attention. Pleased as fuck.”

  “Whatever. Get out of here.”

  Ollie

  I can hear the guys talking on the front porch.

  For the past two hours, I’ve been trying to concentrate on my next project—a rock garden with a water feature for a newly built house up in Hermosa—but it’s been impossible to ignore the three men roaming around my house.

  Had I known law enforcement apparently comes with a prerequisite hot factor here in Durango, I might’ve gotten myself in trouble sooner. Holy Hannah, they have them in all shapes and colors here, but so far—without exception—all very handsome.

  They’ve been into every room of the house, and any other time I would’ve felt violated, but with every door they close behind them, I feel a little safer.

  I’m not going to lie; this whole business with my stupid brother has me more than a little freaked out. Mostly because of how serious Cruz and Joe are taking this. It’s not for nothing I didn’t insist on crawling back into bed with Trinny last night, but instead slept on the couch with a man I barely know. Upstairs I’d been lying awake for hours, listening to my daughter snore softly. Trying to go downstairs had been a stupid move, but I didn’t want to wake up Trinny by turning on the bedside lamp to put on my leg.

  My ankle still hurts a little, but the icepack helped keep the swelling down, and I did get a good few hours in on the couch with Joe within reach. That should probably worry me—that I had no trouble falling asleep with him there.

  The front door opening brings me back to the here and now.

  “Got a minute?” Cruz asks, standing in the doorway.

  “Sure.”

  I get up from my desk and follow him outside where Dylan and Jasper—as they insisted I call them—seem to be looking up at the roof.

  “I want to show you where the lights and cameras are.”

  Cruz walks me around the perimeter of the house, pointing out the small and almost invisible gadgets they mounted. There are a lot. “Do I need this many?”

  “We had them, might as well put them up,” Jasper, who apparently followed us around to the back of the house, comments. “Every window and outside door is wired, so you’ll hear it when any of those are breached. The cameras are there to catch whoever is trying to get in, before they actually do, and the motion lights are intended as a deterrent. Also, I’ll need your phone.”

  “Umm, why?” I turn to him, confused.

  “Need to install the software so you can monitor your house when you’re not here.”

  “Oh. I left it inside on my desk. Next to the computer,” I add, but Jasper is already on the move.

  “Are you okay?” Cruz asks, friendly concern on his face.

  “I guess so. I mean, it all seems a bit…much?”

  He puts his arm around my shoulder and starts walking. “We’re probably being overly cautious, given that—according to Jasper—the IP address your brother was chatting from just days ago hasn’t changed in the past two weeks, but it’s still better to be safe than sorry.”

  We round the corner of the house and almost run into Joe, coming to an abrupt stop when he spots us, glaring at Cruz, who seems to find something funny.

  “Right. We’re almost done here,” he tells Joe, lifting his arm from my shoulders. “I’m just going to check in with the guys and then I’m on my way. I promised Mickie I’d be home in time for dinner tonight.”

  “Mickie?” Joe wants to know.

  “My wife,” Cruz answers, shaking his head as he continues to the front of the house; leaving me standing in front of Joe.

  “You look sick.” He does, he looks flushed and his eyes look funny.

  “I may be coming down with something.”

  Half an hour later, I’m in my kitchen, tossing everything but the kitchen sink in the chicken soup I’m cooking up. Joe’s asleep on my couch, where I ordered him after touching the back of my fingers to his hot forehead.

  Cruz is off to the airport to fly back home, and Jasper and Dylan waved off my offer of a drink, claiming they had to get back to the office.

  With the soup simmering on the stove, I sit down behind my computer and in the next couple of hours manage to get most of the groundwork done for my new project.

  “What time is it?” I hear Joe croak behind me and I turn around. If possible, he looks even worse now.

  “Almost four.”

  “Shit.” He shoots upright and immediately grabs for his head. “Fuck. I need to call the station.”

  “You need to get in bed,” I tell him firmly, getting up from my chair. “I already called the station when you fell asleep.”

  His groggy head comes up and he stares at me with red-rimmed eyes. “You did?”

  “Someone named Mike says to look after yourself and not to worry, he called Blackfoot in?” I walk to the kitchen and lift the lid off the pan. Smells good. Behind me, Joe starts talking on his phone and I listen with only half an ear while pulling apart the soft chicken breasts with two forks.

  “The kids.” I hear close behind me.

  I turn around, finding Joe standing closer than I thought. “You look like you’re going to keel over. Let me tie the lid on this and I’ll walk you over.”

  “I can get myself home.”

  “I’m sure you can, but I’m still gonna walk you. Besides, your kids need feeding too.”

  He leans against the counter, saying nothing, but following every move I make with an odd look on his face.

  Ryder does his usual run for the door when we walk in, but Joe manages to hold him off.

  “I’m sick, Buddy. Don’t want you to get sick too.”

  “What’s wrong with you?” he asks, the look on his face heartbreaking.

  “Your dad just has the flu, honey. He’ll be good as new in a day or two,” I quickly reassure him. Still, he looks dubiously at his father. “Bed,” I order Joe over my shoulder. “I’ll bring you up some soup in a minute. Let me get the kids settled.”

  I get another funny look, but he nods and drags himself straight up the stairs. I put the big pot on the stove and turn the heat on low.

  “Right. Have you guys had a snack yet?” I receive a collective shake of heads from all three kids, who apparently already started on homework, judging by the state of the dining room table. “Coming up,” I announce, pulling open the fridge.

  Five minutes later, I carry a bowl of chicken soup up and a handful of ibuprofen to the master bedroom where Joe is curled up in his bed. For such a strong giant, he looks pretty pathetic. He squints, barely opening his eyes, when I approach the bed.

  “You should stay away from me too,” he warns me when I set the soup down on the nightstand.

  “Pffft.” I wave off his concern walking into the en suite to get some water, trying not to notice the pile of clothes he dropped on the floor of the bathroom, his boxers on top. “I’m immune to bugs. Here, take these and eat the soup while it’s hot. I’ll come check on you later.”

  I turn to leave him to it when his hand darts out from the pile of blankets and grabs mine.

  “Thank you,” he whispers and I turn to look at him. �
�It’s been a long time since someone’s looked after me. I’m not used to it. It’s…nice.”

  “You looked after me yesterday, it’s my turn now.” I give his hand a squeeze before letting go. “Eat your soup, Joe.”

  Chapter 10

  Joe

  “But, Dad, what’s the big deal? School’s almost over anyway.”

  I direct a sharp glance at my oldest boy. We had this discussion last night, and I’m not in the mood hashing it all out again.

  “Mase, it’s a normal school day and it’s not almost over, you have another week to go. You’ve missed most of this week already, you’re not sick anymore, so you’re going to school. End of story.”

  The nasty strain of flu had run through our household like a wildfire, first knocking me out for days, and then this past weekend both boys were hit. Yesterday, Ollie offered to work from my place so I could go into the office, but we’ve taken enough of her time and her kindness this past week. Luckily she and Trinny somehow managed to avoid catching the bug.

  I guess Mason finally cottons on that I’m not budging, and swings his backpack on his back.

  “Jacket, Son.”

  “It’s not cold.” I roll my eyes heavenward. These days if it’s not one thing it’s another for him to argue about. So damn contrary.

  “Jacket,” I repeat, working hard not to let my temper fly.

  It’s been a shit couple of weeks—no pun intended—and I’m ready to get back to normal. The only thing that wasn’t shit was having Ollie looking after us, which is therefore another reason things have to go back to normal. I liked it too much. Liked having her around, looking after my boys, after me. Felt good to have someone at my back. I’ve been alone in shouldering the care and responsibility for my family for a long time.

  I’m not complaining, don’t get me wrong, but since Jenny first got sick that job’s been mine without a break. Jenny’s mom was in a home and in no state to help out. My parents retired to the Bahamas shortly after Ryder was born, so they weren’t around the corner.

  Carrying that load had been part blessing, though, since it forced me to get out of bed and put one foot in front of the other every morning. It also ultimately led me to Durango, needing to find a new balance in our lives.

  “Trinny will be here after school,” I tell the boys, while helping Ryder strap on his backpack. “You guys get your homework done before I get here, maybe we can hit up Los Amigos for some enchiladas?”

  “Crunchy tacos!” Ryder yells pumping his fist.

  In a moderately better mood, Mason leads his younger brother out the door, and I stand on the front step watching them head for their bus stop. I throw a quick glance across the street; both the pickup and the MINI are parked in Ollie’s driveway, so I assume she’s working from home again. Resisting the urge to check in on her, I turn back inside to get myself ready for work.

  Other than the one Monday night last week, Ollie and Trinny have been back home without incident. My guys have been doing regular drive-bys, and things have been quiet. I hope we’re just being overly cautious, but until her brother is found, I’m not willing to take any chances.

  The waiting around doesn’t sit well with me, but there’s little more I can do at this juncture. The FBI is on it and I still have a depleted police department to keep on track, so that’s what I concentrate on doing most of the morning.

  By the time two o’clock rolls around, I’ve managed to fill up the roster sufficiently to cover all shifts for next week. I’m about to leave for a meeting at city hall my presence was requested at, when my cell phone starts buzzing on my desk. A quick look at the display shows Ollie’s number.

  “Hey.”

  Ollie

  Fuck.

  I spent most of the morning either sitting on, or hanging over, the goddamn toilet. The moment Trinny left for school, I’d taken my sorry ass back to bed, feeling like death warmed over, but I wasn’t there long before a wave of nausea had me running. I was still sitting on the bathroom floor—I gave up trying to get back to bed an hour ago—when Katherine called.

  “Shit. I’m sorry, Katherine, I won’t be able to make it.” She was wondering where I was, seeing as I wasn’t at the park where she’d expected me to be for a final walk-through at one, a meeting I’d completely forgotten about. Not a surprise, given the past two weeks—not to mention my current condition—but still a major screwup. Especially in Katherine’s eyes. She doesn’t hesitate to share that with me.

  “You know,” she starts, her voice icy with disdain. “When I hired you, I was under the impression you would be the most professional and responsible choice for the job.” I don’t bother correcting her claim to have hired me, it’s easier to just leave her with that misconception, so I just stay silent for the rest of the admonishment I’m sure will follow. “A decision I’ve had occasion to question over the past few months, but I’ve given you the benefit of the doubt. Don’t make me regret my decision. I’ll expect you here in twenty minutes.” I bite my lip on a fresh wave of nausea, only partly due to the flu. I don’t like Katherine. I don’t exactly kowtow to her—she wouldn’t respect me if I did—but I’m still very aware with her clout in town she could make or break me if she wanted.

  “I’m sorry, but we’ll have to reschedule,” I state firmly, after taking a deep breath in through my nose. “I’m currently sitting on the floor of my bathroom, where I’ve spent most of my morning. I’m sick. I apologize I didn’t call you, but today will not be possible for me.”

  The silence on the other side is complete, so complete I check my screen to see if she’s hung up on me.

  “I see,” she finally says. “I will send you a basket. Call me when you feel better.”

  I’m stunned at her change of tone, which is suddenly much more accommodating than I know her to be. When I open my mouth to protest the need for a basket—whatever that means—I hear the distinct click of her hanging up. The next moment my phone rings again.

  “Yes,” I snap, without looking at the screen.

  “Mom?” The hair on my neck stands up when I hear the tremble in my daughter’s voice.

  “What’s wrong, baby?”

  “Uncle Christian sent me a message.”

  “I thought he was blocked?” I’m confused, I know he was blocked on both her Messenger and Facebook accounts.

  “No, I mean a text message. I swear I never gave him my number, Mom. He says he’ll see me after school.”

  My heart is pounding so hard in my chest it hurts. Still, I manage to keep my voice even. “Listen to me, Trinny, I need you to go to the office and stay right there. I’m calling Joe and then I’ll come pick you up. Wait for me in the office, okay?”

  “Okay,” she whispers.

  I hate hanging up on her, but the sooner I can let Joe know, the faster I can get to the school. I’m dialing as I haul my ass up off the floor and rush into my bedroom to put some clothes on.

  “Hey.” Joe’s familiar voice is like an anchor for my panicked thoughts.

  “Joe,” I manage before he cuts me off.

  “Shit. You’re sick.” I guess it’s that obvious.

  “It’s Trinny.”

  “Talk to me,” he orders firmly, all business right away.

  “She got a text from my brother, saying he’ll see her after school. I told her to wait for me in the office.” I wedge the phone between my ear and my shoulder, as I struggle to get my jeans over my prosthesis.

  “Stay put.” I hear him breathe as if he’s running.

  “I need to get to my daughter, Joe.”

  “Stay right where you are. I’m heading to the school now.”

  I sink down on the edge of the mattress as a shudder runs through me. “He has her number, Joe. How did he get her number? You said she never gave that to him.”

  “She didn’t. Not in their chat anyway. Still, it may have been linked to one of her social media accounts, I don’t know.”

  “I’m scared,” I admit. I never tho
ught I’d say that in relation to my brother, but I am. I still don’t believe he—himself—is a threat, but I can’t deny him going to these lengths to get in touch with my daughter is freaking me out. Not just that, but it scares me shitless how easy it apparently was for him to find another way to connect with her.

  “I know, Sweets. I’ll be at the school in three minutes, but I need let you go and call Gomez. Hang tight. I’m almost there.”

  “Okay, Joe.” I realize I’m talking to dead air.

  Dropping my phone on the mattress, I use both hands to get dressed and make my way downstairs, ignoring the heavy pounding in my head.

  It’s been twenty minutes, and I’m on pins and needles, waiting for my phone to ring—letting me know Trinny is safe with him—when I hear a light knock on my door. I don’t even think, just rush to the door, yanking it open.

  “You don’t look so well.”

  Last person I expected to find on my doorstep was Josh Carey, holding a massive fruit basket.

  “What are you doing here?” My tone isn’t exactly friendly, but then our last encounter hadn’t exactly left me with a warm, fuzzy feeling.

  “Mother mentioned you’re sick, so I thought I’d come see how you were doing, bring you a care package.” With that he shoves the basket in my hands.

  I call bullshit on everything out of his mouth. He didn’t choose to come or bring me anything; his mother must’ve been on the phone a split second after hanging up on me. Josh clearly couldn’t have been very far away since he made it to my doorstep in record time, complete with basket.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me in?” The friendly smile on his face is fake. He wants to be here about as much as I want him to be here.

  So I give him the truth—screw Katherine. “Hell no.” His face immediately turns dark.

  “Mother insists I see to it that you’re okay.” He plants his hand on the door, right next to my head, and I take a step back, inadvertently pushing the door open as I go. Seeing it as an invitation, Josh quickly slips by me.

  I’m about to tear a strip off him when I hear the slam of a car door and watch as Joe stalks up the driveway, thunder marring his face. I don’t get a chance to say anything to him either, the moment he is within reach; he grabs my arm and pulls me out onto the porch.