“Okayyy.”
“Don’t sound scared.” I squeezed her tight. “Have you ever had problems with your phone randomly calling people?”
“You mean butt dialing?”
Or pussy dialing...I fought back my laughter since she would have no clue why I was laughing and would think I’d lost it.
“About two weeks before the wedding, I got a call from a blocked number, and since sometimes Carter and Kayson forget to turn their call number ID back on after a shift, I didn’t think anything about it and answered. I was going to hang up once I realized it wasn’t them. But I heard a humming sound, and then I heard moaning, and then I heard my name. It took me a little bit to put it all together and realize what was going on.”
“I guess I don't follow what you mean?”
“Look at me.” I cupped her face. “Do you have a vibrator? Be honest?”
She nodded.
“When you use it do you fantasize about anyone in particular?”
Leo let out a gasp.
That was when I knew she understood exactly what I was saying. “Leo, I don’t know why, but for some reason your phone called me, and I’m not the least bit ashamed to say that I listened to you.”
Leo averted her gaze. Her face turned red, and it was more than enough to send my cock throbbing hard. “Holy shit, Ian.” Leo pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them as if holding herself together. “Oh my God, I’m so embarrassed. I can’t believe that you listened to me.”
"It was hot as fuck. Needless to say, I joined you.”
She pulled herself into a tighter ball then turned her head so that she could see me and rested her head on her knees.
“Yeah, this right here.” I trailed my index finger down the side of her face. “I like this shit. I like when your cheeks turn red for me.” I was happy finally getting to tell her that I knew. “You know what else I like?”
Leo shook her head.
“The thought of turning another pair of cheeks red.” Leo turned around at my words and faced me. She was going to say something but I halted her by planting a kiss on her lips and driving my tongue inside, gently sweeping until I felt her body relax. God, I didn’t think I’d get enough of her, ever.
We were back at her apartment. Carter had called to let Leo know they had located her hit and run. The woman was truly a clueless ditz who hadn’t even known she’d almost killed someone. They had the woman’s insurance information for Leo to give her provider. And Orange County was handling the incident since the woman’s claim of, “I didn’t know,” wasn’t an excuse. The fact was she still caused a wreck with injuries and left the scene, as well as being a negligent driver. In the end, Leo just wanted her deductible covered and her bike fixed.
Fortunately, it had nothing to do with all the other shit going on, it was just a series of misfortunate events.
“Enough of this shit.” I stood, determined to figure out what the hell was going on. “Can you pull up some schematics of the Harley model that the deputies ride?”
“Sure, why?”
“I may not be a mechanic and know what you know, but I do work on engines as well, just a different type. I’m a problem solver. Let me solve this problem.” I stared into her eyes, God they were so fucking green. “Each thing that has happened has been totally different. This means whoever is doing it just randomly does shit. I want you to walk me through what has been done. Do you have schematics for the type of bikes that the deputies ride?"
“I probably can’t login and get access to the main Harley-Davidson mechanic’s site, since I’m sure my information has been suspended. But to be honest what we really need is a bike.”
“You have a second bike, right?”
“Yeah, but it’s a Low Boy, the county bikes are Road Kings, they are a totally different frame, engine, and setup. My bike won’t help at all. But I do have something better.” Leo ran to her counter then came back holding up a key. “It’s Vivian’s. Her husband, Mike, had a Road King and all of the tools, she still has it in the garage and told me to come use whatever I needed if it would help me clear my name.”
“How hard would it be to flip the brake pads? Is that something that could have been done by mistake?” I’d been on a motorcycle maybe twice in my life and knew almost nothing about them.
I pulled out my phone and started typing in the notepad as Leo held a wrench in her hand and walked me through it step by step. “Whoever did this had to know that it wouldn’t take very long before the deputy realized something was wrong, which was probably why he only ended up with a few scratches, he didn’t get going fast enough.”
“So you’re saying that this person was familiar with motorcycles?” I typed some more notes.
“Yes, or they planned that particular stunt and researched it first.”
“How about the second incident?” I pointed at the bike and then typed some more.
Leo stood, straddled the front tire, and gripped the handlebars. “Harley is famous for their wobble when bikes get out of alignment or hit certain speeds. These bigger bikes have a chamber to help counter the wobble, it’s called the steering stabilizer. This is just a guess but from what I gathered from the detective maybe the stabilizer was busted.”
“How hard would that be to do?”
“Not hard, all you’d need is anything heavy”—she waved the wrench in the air—“and someone who knew two shits about Harley cruisers would know how to make that wobble worse.” Leo moved off the tire and walked around the bike and examined it some more.
“When the stabilizer breaks, does it make a loud noise?”
“It depends on how hard someone hits it. But it would probably sound like a metal-on-metal crunch. Anything else?”
“Yeah. Carter said they found metal shavings in the oil reservoir. But I don’t understand that. Isn’t that what an oil filter is for, it catches all of that shit? Does that mean whoever is doing this is running out of ideas?”
“Not necessarily. Whoever is doing this might be calculating and not just randomly sabotaging.” Leo straightened and turned to me. “You’re right about the filter. Shavings could clog it fast if there were enough of them in there. Once the filter is clogged, the oil pressure would drop and damage the engine. So, whoever is doing this could have done that bike as their first sabotage, which might have been months ago, or it could be the latest sabotage, which meant it was only days ago.”
“If you were going to incapacitate a bike, what would you do?”
“All right, let me think. Lug nuts, I’d loosen the lug nuts so that the tire would work itself loose.”
“Does Harley have a special key or tool?”
“All you would need is a wrench. I would also mess with the brake calipers since they’ve already proven that they know how to access the brake pads. Once again all you need is a simple tool.” She shoved her hands through her hair. “Don’t you get it, motorcycles are meant to be worked on even on the side of the road. Most things can be fixed by the average Joe, which also means most things can be damaged.”
“I’ll tell Kayson to have his guys check lug nuts and brake calipers before riding. If you think of anything else, let me know so we can add it to a list.”
It was a crazy time to think this but listening to Leo talk shop was sexy as hell. I entered all of the notes Leo was telling me. I knew this was my nerd side one hundred percent but I wanted to see this in a graph and where the commonalities were.
“All of this is being done to random bikes, not one particular deputy, right?”
Leo nodded.
“Do you work on any bikes other than Orange County?”
“Nah, we just do Orange County anymore. I mean other shops do other counties but not us. Why are you asking that?”
“I’m just trying to put all of this together. Whoever is doing this doesn’t have a beef with a particular deputy, so maybe it’s the whole motors division and not with just any mechanic but with you. The crap they are pulling
is pretty trivial, nothing overly detailed or time-consuming, and it doesn’t seem like anything that is meant to actually kill a deputy just harm.”
“Isn’t that bad enough? I mean, I’ve lost my career and my friends, but hey, no biggie, they weren’t trying to kill me.” Leo glared at me as if she felt betrayed by my words.
“No, listen to me. I’m not excusing or defending, I’m trying to solve. These are the actions of someone who feels slighted, not someone who is hungry for revenge. Can you think of anyone who is pissed off at you?”
“No, I have a boring life. Up until now, I went to work or hung out with the girls, that was all.”
“How about with any of the deputies? Have you dated any of them?”
“No.”
I was more relieved by that than I would ever admit.
“I promise we will figure this out.”
“What if we don’t? What if the next time, a trivial tampering gets someone killed and I’m up on murder charges?”
“Then you won’t go through any of this alone.” I reached up and grabbed her face and held her in my palms. At that moment, she looked so tiny and fragile. So breakable. “Do you remember when we were kids and you and Sophie were finally tall enough to ride Space Mountain?”
Leo nodded, and a tear ran down her cheek.
“Do you remember how I held your face just like this and tried to convince you it wasn’t as bad as you were making it out to be?”
“I didn’t want to ride, but Kayson was with Damon and your mom had Tristan ride with Sophie, so you got stuck with me. I was the only one who didn’t really want to go.”
“But you didn’t want to ruin Sophie’s excitement, and I heard you giving yourself a pep talk. You were like seven years old and you were telling yourself to get your shit together.”
Leo let out a laugh.
“Okay, I’m improvising, but you get the picture.”
“And you grabbed my face and stared into my eyes and said, ‘Come on, let’s show them that we got this.’ Then you pulled me in front of all of them, and we went first.”
“Let’s show them that we got this.”
While still cupping her face, I brought my mouth down to hers. The kiss wasn’t gentle or hard. It was emotional, and I felt it through my body.
“Let’s get you home.”
“Sounds like a good plan.”
Her smile was a bit more confident as I helped her put the tools away.
Leo
I’d gotten bored out of my fucking mind staring at my phone, willing it to ring. Ian had said that he’d call this morning and it was already after lunch. Only hearing the occasional dings was driving me loco so I decided to watch a movie. I could never be a real criminal, hell, being on house arrest would kill me from the sheer boredom.
Rubbing my cheek across the pillow on my couch, I couldn’t help but laugh.
I had to sit up and grab the remote because a little window had just popped up on Netflix asking me if I was still watching.
Really? Are you fucking kidding me? Ian, who claimed to have been falling for me for the last twenty-three years, hadn’t even checked in on me. But Netflix, sure, they checked in on me.
Well, at least someone fucking cared.
Scrolling to yes, I clicked the button, if Netflix wasn’t abandoning me then I sure as hell wasn’t abandoning them so I resumed my movie.
When my phone finally did ring, I nearly had a heart attack trying to get to it but it was the last person I wanted to talk to.
“Hello, Mother.”
“Have they learned anything new?”
“No.”
“You know that you’ve brought this on yourself. A woman shall not wear man’s clothing, nor shall a man put on a woman's dress, it is an abomination to the Lord God.”
“Gee, I’d almost forgotten that you can quote the Old Testament.”
“It is more than quotes. The Bible is an instruction manual from God himself. You go traipsing around in those dungarees and people get the wrong idea.”
“If this is what you called for, then I have to go.”
I wanted to feel bad, I really did, but I was beginning to understand that she would never see me as anything other than a sin.
“Please pray.” Yep, those were the kindest words my mother could speak toward me. No bye or love or I care about you. She just hung up.
I’d wanted interaction just not that kind.
Ding. Oh, finally.
Ian: I’m reconsidering what you asked for.
Me: What’s that?
Ian: Free throat punch.
Me: What did she do now?
Ian: Meeting scheduled at five. I fucking heard her talking to her father. I’ve decided to send my resume to SpaceGen. I hear they are hiring. I’m ready to get out of this place.
Me: Breathe. I’ll be here no matter what time.
Ian: I’m writing smile, because I’m not sending fucking emojis.
Between that woman, Ian’s crazy hours, and my fear to even step outside, I needed some serious vodka-therapy. But I hated drinking alone, and I hated bothering my friends, well, those in which I was still permitted to talk to.
Sinking deeper in my sofa, I watched Throttle jump on top of the coffee table, she meowed as if she were telling me to cheer up and pull myself together. I smiled. At least the furball was sensitive enough to know her owner was not in a good situation. I tapped the throw pillow beside me, and she leaped onto it and curled up.
“Hey, cat, I think we’re going to have to move out soon.” I stroked her neck, and we watched an episode of Counting Cars. It was just after five when I got another text from Ian.
Ian: I may have figured something out. Meet me under the I-4, South Street on-ramp bridge. I’ll meet you in the parking lot. Heading there now. Hurry.
In lightning quick motions, I pulled on my biker boots, slid my phone into my back pocket, grabbed my keys, helmet, and vest, and I was dashing out my door and down to my bike. Ian wasn’t there when I pulled in, so I cut my engine and waited, watching cars zoom down the eastbound ramp of I-4 at high speeds and cars merge from South Street, heading onto the interstate.
My heart picked up speed with each second that passed as I waited for Ian to show up. The anticipation that he might have discovered something to prove my innocence or to help solve the case and discover the real culprit.
I tapped my boots on the ground. My hands were sweaty, and I couldn’t help but feel anxious as I reached for my phone to check the time and send Ian a message to make sure that I was in the right spot. He should have been here before me. At least fifteen minutes had passed.
It’s fine. Relax. Breathe.
For some reason, my words were sounding more like a chant, and if I wasn’t careful, I’d probably be calling forth rain at any moment.
Returning my attention to cars traveling up and down the on and exit ramps. I watched as a motorcycle came up to the curve, and it took only a second for me to realize it was a deputy. He was on his county assigned bike. For the briefest moments, I wondered how Kayson, Carter, and Piper were doing. I missed talking to them. I squinted, trying to see if I could tell who was on the bike from this distance but with his helmet on it was difficult.
He shifted gears, picked up speed, the lane jogged left, a car cut him off, and it happened in slow motion. Well, not really, but it felt like it. The deputy’s body went to the left, his bike went to the right. His front tire kept going forward and the car that ran him off never stopped.
I ran. Pulling my phone from my pocket and dialing as I did so.
“9-1-1, police, fire, or medical?”
“Medical.”
“What’s the address?”
“I’m, umm, at...” I quickly looked around for a number on a building. “I don’t know the exact number. I’m at the on-ramp of I-4 at South Street.”
“Can you tell me what’s going on?”
“Yes. A deputy.” My voice was choppy as I ran toward him. “A
hit and run. Holy shit, it’s Aiden. I know him. Hurry. Aiden’s been hurt.” I forgot about the emergency operator on the other line and instead turned my focus to Aiden. “Don’t move, Aiden. Help is on the way.”
I bit my bottom lip, knowing exactly how this was going to look but unwilling to run the other direction when someone was hurt.
Where the hell was Ian? I scanned the area and didn’t relax my breath until the first sounds of a siren broke through my mind. Before I knew it, paramedics, deputies, and one pissed off detective were surrounding us. Detective Brown’s eyes narrowed when he saw me. “Miss Scarvoni, we meet again. Here we have a case of psychological profiling proven right, huh?”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“It’s a known fact that criminals return to the scene of the crime.”
What? No. I was meeting someone here when I saw the wreck. I was the one who called it in. I opened my mouth to protest, but when he raised one brow and gestured for one of the deputies to come and get me, I felt as if I was going to pass out.
I hadn’t been handcuffed, not before this point, and they weren’t gentle about it. Once cuffed, I was “escorted” to a squad car. I was patted down and my keys, phone, and ID were removed.
Any words I wanted to say were left hanging in the air. Losing my will to object, I did as I was told. Everything was pointing at me, and I didn’t have the slightest clue why it had to be me of all the people in the world who could have seen the accident.
Relax. Breathe. I began to chant again.
At the station, I was escorted once again into the small room. The detective had the cuffs removed and I was left to sit. Alone. The ticking of the clock was like a hammer pounding against my head.
Arms extended, I rested my head on the cold steel of the table, wondering how my life had turned into such a shit-show. I didn’t lift my head when I heard the door open or when I heard the chair across from me scoot out. I didn’t bother to acknowledge him when he set a stack of folders onto the table in front of me or when he cleared his throat once, twice, or even the third time.
Leo, Kiss Often (Iron Orchids Book 4) Page 13