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Depends on Who's Asking

Page 20

by Vale, Lani Lynn


  “You’ll marry her!” Dad growled, pointing his finger in Saint’s direction.

  “Dad,” I sighed. “We’re already getting married this weekend, remember?”

  “A little damn late if you ask me,” Dad grumbled.

  • • •

  Saint didn’t even make it into the door of his duplex—which I’d moved into—before I was launching myself into his arms.

  “Did you have a good day at work?” I questioned him.

  He hefted me up by the waist so that my legs were around his middle, then walked in farther and shut the door.

  Smoke, who was one hundred percent healed, walked to the kitchen where his food was already waiting for him.

  Seconds later, I was finding that my shirt and shorts were definitely in the way, and Saint wanted them gone.

  Maybe I should start meeting him at the door naked? This seemed to be our routine lately.

  “What’s your mind on?” he asked, placing kisses on my collarbone.

  “I was thinking about meeting you at the door naked,” I admitted. “I was also thinking that my shorts are in the way.”

  He placed me gently onto the couch then divested me of my shorts, my tank, and my underwear.

  He left me in the bra, though, knowing how sensitive my breasts were lately.

  And by sensitive I meant, if they were touched even a little bit, I was crying.

  I was such a little bitch.

  But, finding this out the hard way since we’d done this about a week ago and he’d had to stop because of accidentally sucking too hard? It was just easier this way.

  “So, you had to tell your dad early?” he asked, trailing his tongue down the midline of my stomach.

  He came to my bump and pressed a kiss there before moving even farther down.

  I caught his head and urged him back up.

  “I know that you want to play,” I said. “But let’s shelve the discussion about my dad, skip the foreplay, and get right to you putting that pretty cock in me. I’m in need.”

  He snickered as he slowly came back up my body, moving my legs up high, one going over the couch, and the other going over his forearm, as he pressed his cock against my slit.

  “Why are you in need?” he asked. “I came home for lunch.”

  He had.

  Today was one of my rare days off since it happened to be another holiday that the courts weren’t in session, and he’d definitely come home for lunch. He didn’t eat, though.

  I’d been in need then, too.

  Seems like that’s all I ever used him for during the day.

  Quickies in my office. Quickies at home during his lunch break and mine.

  Quickies. Quickies. Quickies.

  I was such a horny bitch.

  “Why are you talking?” I asked. “Put your cock in me already.”

  Eyes shining, he notched his cock at my entrance and started to push inside. “Yes, ma’am.”

  • • •

  SAINT

  Two Days Later

  “Are you crying?”

  I wasn’t ashamed.

  Seeing Carolina walk down the aisle to me in all white?

  There was nothing, not a damn thing, that was better than that.

  “Fuck off, Brad,” I grumbled as he stood at my side.

  It made sense for Brad to be there.

  He’d been more to me than my own parents had. It made sense for him to be my best man, too.

  “Your dog abandoned you,” Brad continued as he watched Smoke walk up the aisle with my girl.

  I grinned. “I know.”

  “Is that a cat with her, too?” Brad wondered.

  “That’s Pixie,” I said. “One of the cats I rescued. He likes her, too.”

  In fact, all of my animals liked her.

  The only one that didn’t like her was a cat that didn’t like anybody, and if he had to choose his favorite person, he’d choose Carolina, too, just based on the fact that she gave him catnip and good food.

  Carolina lost her feline friend when she got to the yard that separated my place from the rest of Cop Row.

  Pixie went flying under the drink table, leaving Smoke, Carolina, and Michael to make the last of their descent alone.

  When they finally got to me, something large felt like it was blowing up inside of my chest.

  “Who gives this woman to this man?” the preacher at my back asked.

  Michael swallowed hard, his eyes going from me to his daughter and back.

  With one long look, he communicated two things.

  One, I better take care of her or else. Two, she was mine now.

  That thing that’d been building in my chest released when Michael said, “Her mother and I do.”

  Fifteen minutes later, we were saying, “I do.”

  Thirty minutes after that, we danced our first dance in the middle of Cop Row as husband and wife.

  Two hours after that, Michael, drunk off his ass, sang “It Won’t Be Like This For Long” by Darius Rucker, and there wasn’t a damn dry eye on the entire block.

  Not even mine.

  EPILOGUE

  It’s all fun and games until Santa checks the naughty list.

  -Coffee Cup

  SAINT

  Two Years Later

  “Everybody look this way,” I heard called.

  The photographer, Avery, got about half of the attention that she wanted.

  “Look over here, babies!” Dillan called, snapping her fingers.

  I snapped my fingers in front of my son’s face, who was too busy chewing on the cord my mic was connected to and not the woman that was taking her photos to pay attention.

  For some stupid, fucked-up reason, we were all once again posing for a calendar.

  This time, though, it wasn’t just the men of SWAT. It was the men of SWAT and their babies.

  At least I only had the one kid.

  Dax was wrangling his toddler in one hand, and his infant in the other, all the while trying to look like he wanted to be there.

  Booth had his son, Asa, at his feet who was trying to appear badass. His other child in his arm was screaming at Bourne’s child who was in the closer arm to him.

  It was like they were in a screaming contest.

  Then again, it was utter and total chaos, which was about normal for us at this point.

  Everyone now had children.

  And every one of those children were bad.

  Every one except for mine.

  Mine was perfect.

  Michael, who’d just rolled up in his cruiser, pressed the horn button, causing every single kid to stop screaming and look.

  They weren’t scared, though. They were too used to one of us doing that to ever jump when they heard that particular sound.

  But it did make them look.

  Which was when Avery took the photo.

  She looked down at the screen and shook her head, laughing. “That’ll have to do.”

  Thankful to finally be free, I walked over to where my once-again pregnant wife was just getting out of her father’s police cruiser.

  She had court today, and it’d been a big case.

  One of the biggest of her career.

  So big, in fact, that there’d been a police presence in the courtroom just in case things went wrong.

  Luckily it didn’t, and Carolina was there, face smiling, as she walked our way.

  She totally kissed the hell out of me, too, right in the middle of the entire SWAT team and their families.

  “Ewwww!” Asa cried. “Gross!”

  Booth put his entire hand on Asa’s face and pulled him in close.

  “Now, now, Asa,” Booth said as he came up to his cousin’s side and threw his arm around her. “You’re gonna find a girl that you like, too, one day.”

  “Gross, no I’m not.” Asa shook his head.

  Michael finally caught up to Carolina and pulled my baby out of my arms.

  “Hey!” I said.

  “S
hut up, Saint Nick. I haven’t seen him in days.”

  “It’s been more like one,” Carolina snickered as she used the extra arm to her advantage and hugged me tight.

  “How was your day?” I asked, pressing a kiss to her mouth.

  When I pulled back, she said, “Just another day in paradise.”

  • • •

  I grinned when I saw the black ornament hanging from the wreath that Carolina had hung on our door the moment that it turned December first.

  Pulling it off the wreath, I dropped it to the ground and crunched it with my boot, shattering it.

  Bending down, I pulled the folded-up Post-it-note out and read it.

  “Merry Christmas, kid.”

  Grinning at the short and simple note from Brad, I picked up what I could of the ornament and walked inside.

  The first thing to assail me was the piercing screams of my son, Nicholas.

  Yes, you read that right.

  My son was named Nicholas. Well, to be fair, he was actually a junior. He was Saint Nicholas Nicholson. Just like me. But he went by Nicholas, or Nicky, for short.

  The second thing to assault me was the cat yowling.

  The third was Smoke nearly taking me out at the knees as he bounded past me to get to my wife.

  My wife who was looking quite frazzled as she hurriedly did ten things at a time as she was making whatever dinner she was making.

  Today was the day I celebrated my birthday. This year, I’d picked December nineteenth to celebrate. And, just like last year, my girl went all out for it, knowing that I’d never had that growing up.

  She looked over her shoulder at me and turned, her baby belly on display in the tight black tank top she was wearing over some skin-tight black yoga pants.

  I fuckin’ loved when she wore that.

  All of her womanly goods were on display, and it turned me on beyond belief.

  “You’re home early,” she said as she spared a second to pat Smoke on the head and give him a piece of bacon.

  He crunched it up and went to where Nicky was eating his dinner, making a damn fine mess while he did.

  I kissed my boy on his cheek, which happened to be the only clean spot, then went to my girl.

  “How was work?” I asked as I pulled her close.

  “No work today, remember?” she said. “We’re off for the Christmas holidays.”

  I grinned. “Oh yeah.” That grin fell. “Then if you weren’t at work this morning, where were you?”

  She blinked innocently at me. “Christmas shopping is really hard when you have a toddler that likes to have nap time at ten. That means that you get up early to get things done as to not disrupt that.”

  That was true as hell.

  Nikki kept my kid on a damn fine schedule. The only problem was, sometimes that schedule meant that we couldn’t do other things. Like be out in the middle of the day because my kid liked his sleep.

  “Oh yeah?” I asked. “What’d you get me?”

  She pressed her mouth to my neck. Then bit me.

  “You’ll just have to wait to see, Saint Nick.”

  I pinched her ass. “Not funny.”

  She snickered. “Sure it was.”

  I pulled her into my erection. “How much time is left until dinner is ready?”

  She smacked me again. “He needs a bath. He needs to finish eating. And then he needs to get put to bed. You’ll have to wait, mister.”

  I sighed. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She pulled out of my arms and went to the stove. “Though just sayin’, but tonight’s your night to get him to bed. If you can get that done earlier, who am I to complain?”

  She batted her eyelashes at me innocently.

  I narrowed mine. “Is six too early to put him to bed?”

  She threw her head back and laughed. “Yes, Saint. It is. Go play and feed your boy while I get food ready for you.”

  I did what she said.

  And it was as I was watching her bustling around the kitchen while Nicky jabbered to me that I realized this was what paradise felt like.

  I had everything that I could ever ask for.

  “I love you, Carolina,” I said to my wife.

  She looked over at me as she licked the beaters. “I love you, too.”

  • • •

  I hope you enjoyed the KDP SWAT 2.0 series. Don’t miss my next series, starting with Lynn & Six’s book, Repeat Offender.

  Turn the page for a sneak preview.

  What’s Next?

  CHAPTER 1

  Everyone is entitled to my opinion.

  -Six’s secret thoughts

  SIX

  “I think we should break up.”

  I blinked.

  “Okay,” I said, unsure whether this guy realized that he was talking to me or not.

  “I know that we’ve been dating a while…” the man continued.

  But my concentration was caught not by the guy breaking up with me that I’d never seen before in my life, but by the man that was currently standing beside me, dressed in the three-piece suit.

  I had no clue who he was.

  But holy crap, could the man fill out a suit.

  I’d never really been attracted to men that were so well put together, but this guy? And he was a man, there was no doubt about that. Whew, he was good-looking.

  He was tall, a little over six foot two or three. He had silvering black hair that was more silver than gray, perfect hair that had a slight wave to it, and piercing green eyes that made my heart start to hammer when I saw them directed at me.

  “…I know that you’re a great lady,” the man breaking up with me said. “But I…”

  Mr. Three-piece Suit’s lips twitched at my attention.

  He brought a lowball glass of amber-colored liquid to his mouth and took a shallow sip.

  That’s when I saw the cigar in his hand that was holding the glass.

  It wasn’t lit, but it was obvious that at one point it had been.

  On his hand closest to the tip of the cigar was a gold ring, not on his ring finger, but his middle.

  It had a circle and some swirls on it, and I wanted to walk over to get a closer look at it.

  Though, I wasn’t sure if it was the man’s ring that I wanted to look at, or the man himself.

  He was deliciously tall, very well built, and looked as if he’d be just as exciting as getting a root canal.

  His eyes turned to the man that was in front of me. The one saying ‘it wasn’t me, it was him.’

  When the older man turned and dismissed me completely, I returned my gaze to the man in front of me.

  “What’s your name again?” I asked.

  “Uhh.” He paused. “Brighton.”

  “Well, Brighton,” I said. “I think you need to lay off the alcohol for the evening. You’re drunk and you’re talking to a woman that’s never met you before in her life.”

  “I’m not drunk,” Brighton said. “This isn’t funny, either. Jesus, Linda.”

  I was already rolling my eyes.

  “Listen, Linda,” I said as I polished off my beer. Yes, I said beer. If I was going to be somewhere I didn’t want to be, I was going to drink. “My name isn’t Linda. It’s Six. I’d appreciate it if you left me alone, k?”

  Brighton’s eyes narrowed, and his cheeks went red.

  “You don’t have to act like this, Linda,” he continued.

  I was already walking away when he said that.

  “Linda, don’t walk away from me when we’re talking!” Brighton growled, grabbing me by the hand and tugging.

  Training took over—I didn’t tolerate stupidity easily and was trained in mixed martial arts—and I twisted my wrist out of Brighton’s hand. Seconds later, I had his thumb in a lock and his arm behind his back.

  Twisting it viciously, I said, “Keep your hands to yourself. Especially when it comes to me.”

  “Brighton, dude,” some random man said. “What are you doing?”

  “
I’m trying to break up with Linda, but she assaulted me and won’t take no for an answer,” Brighton growled.

  I snorted. “Yes, you’re trying to break up with Linda. I’m not Linda, you moron. Like I said earlier, my name is Six. I don’t even know a Linda.”

  Brighton sneered at me.

  The new man walked over and said, “I thought you were kidding when you said Linda was here.”

  This other man looked at me like I was Linda, too.

  Jesus Christ.

  Pushing the man away from me so he wouldn’t get another chance at a grab, I stalked off, hoping that I got far enough away from him before he tried for a third round.

  Luck was on my side as I wound myself through the crowd.

  I was out of beer, and I needed another if I was going to deal with staying here.

  I most certainly didn’t want to be here, though.

  I had quite a few other things that I’d rather be doing at this moment in time. Like watching The Witcher for the fourth time. Or alphabetizing my spice cabinet. Folding the laundry in the dryer that’d been there for going on four days. Scrubbing my baseboards clean. Hell, I could even go for pulling the mats out of my outside cat’s fur.

  What I did not want to be doing was attending the mayor of Kilgore’s inauguration.

  However, despite what I wanted, I didn’t have a choice. It was either be here, or never hear the end of it from my father. And sometimes, just keeping him happy and out of my life, for the most part, was easier than the alternative—him actually paying attention to me.

  But, saying that, just because I was here didn’t mean that I didn’t want to mess with him while also being me.

  If my father was going to force me to be here, then I’d be here. He didn’t get to choose what I wore, though. Or who I spoke with.

  Which was why I wore a corset dress with a deep purple bustier underneath it that was on the shorter side in front, reaching above my knees, and on the longer side in back.

  I was wearing four-inch sky-high black heels that were also the same shade of purple at the bottom.

  I had on heavy makeup with the same glittery shade of purple eyeshadow, deep purple lipstick to match, and my purple contacts.

  I wore the contacts because it pissed my father off.

 

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