by Tess Oliver
"Pie is non-committal all right. Now, if you're stopping for brownies, then that changes the whole relationship dynamic."
He shakes his head. "Ah shut up, ya ass. We can't all just fart into the wind and have a dozen women knocking down the door to find out where the sweet fragrance originated."
"Trust me, that method for wooing women is highly overrated."
He covers his mouth to not spit out his burger bite with a laugh. He drinks it down with a long sip of soda. "We've talked a bunch of times on Skype." He pulls the lettuce out of his burger before picking it up again. "I confess, I've been tossing the detective thing around some. It works too. Just nervous about meeting her for the first time."
I plow a fry into a puddle of ketchup. "You'll be fine. Just be yourself."
"Says Detective Adonis flippantly."
"I'm no Adonis. Just ask Ten."
Silvana puts his burger down. "See, I'm just talking about the first date and I'm too nervous to eat."
I point across the table. "So ya going to eat those onion rings?"
He pushes the box toward me.
"Do you still remember the first time you met Ten?" he asks. Silvana is probably the only person I've ever talked to about my feelings for Ten. Even with him, I've kept them mostly guarded. Hell, I keep them guarded from myself too.
I nod as I chew an onion ring. "Like it was yesterday." I can't stop the chuckle that forms every time I think of that day. "I got to work and there was a buzz going around the office about a new transfer coming in from across town. You know how everyone gets like a clucky bunch of hens when there's news to toss around. I was more interested in why the fuck no one had filled the coffee pot in the break room, but I heard snippets about some young punk with a smart mouth, a Detective Tennyson, who was being transferred because the higher ups thought Clark could handle the punk better than anyone else."
Silvana sips his drink and listens with interest like a kid listening to a bedtime story.
"So, I'm refilling the damn coffee pot and Clark bellows from his office"—I drop my voice and make it gruff—"Maddox, get in here now."
"Seconds later, I'm sitting in his office and he's telling me that I'm getting the new transfer as a partner. About nearly fell out of my chair when he told me he was expecting her any minute. I repeated her? This Tennyson punk is a her? Right then, the door swings open and shut and this spunky girl walks in. A black baseball hat is pulled down low over her head, making her red hair look extra red. And she's on the phone. She is meeting her new captain and partner for the first time and she's on the fucking phone."
Silvana laughs. "Sounds just like Ten. Maybe it was an important call?" he suggests.
"That's where it gets really good. I still remember everything she was saying into the phone." I pick up my own phone as a prop and do an imitation of Ten that would earn me a hard knuckle on the shoulder. "She has this serious look on her face and she says—'now repeat that back to me please'. In the meantime, Clark's face is as red and round as a clown's nose. He says, 'Detective Tennyson, when you step into my office—' She lifts up her finger to tell him one second. He just about swallowed his own tongue. So she continues with her call." I raise my voice to imitate her again. "She says, 'onions? When the hell did I say onions? See, this is why I had you repeat the order back to me. Yeah, and there better not be onions on that breakfast burrito'. I'm just sitting there in that old chair across from Clark's desk watching the whole thing and working hard not to laugh. Clark sputters and spits her name again and tells her to hang up."
Silvana is laughing hard enough that I have to stop for him to catch his breath. "Did she hang up?" he chortles out.
"Nope. She pulls the phone away and says 'hey, what's the street address here?'"
Silvana slaps the table and startles the people at the table next to us. He holds up his hand. "Stop. I can't take any more. Can't even catch my breath."
I pick up another onion ring and dip it in ketchup.
Silvana finally composes himself. "Holy crap, I wish I'd been there. You should have snapped a picture of Clark's face. It'd be worth a million bucks just to see it. I'm surprised he didn't ask her to turn around and head back across town."
"Nah, you know Ten. She had Clark wrapped around her pinky just a few weeks after she arrived."
Silvana nods and picks up a napkin to wipe his hands. "Yeah, that's Ten. Hard not to love her." He gets flustered and drops the napkin. "You know what I mean. I don't love her. I love her like a friend."
"I got ya. Guess the K-9 unit is probably done sniffing that warehouse. We should get back there."
"Yep. Guess so."
We collect up the trash and toss it. "You didn't eat much, Silvana. Hope you're not going to keel over from low blood sugar."
"I had a big breakfast. Besides, I'm hoping to fit into a certain pair of jeans by Thursday."
We get to the car and climb inside. "Is that when you knew you loved her?" Silvana asks. "That first time you met her in Clark's office?"
His question throws me for a second, maybe because it's one I've never asked myself. I lean back against the seat and stare out the front windshield. So many scenes that made me love her go through my head, it takes me a second to find the one that sticks out. "It was raining. And cold as shit. Ten and I got called to a scene at a well-known drug house in one of the worst sections of town. The neighbors reported a brawl and a gun shot. We got there just after the first four squad cars. Two guys were lying in the mud in the front yard, still moving but badly hurt. This asshole was standing on the front porch using a little girl as his shield. He had a gun. He was waving it all over the fucking place while he gripped that little girl by her hair. She must have been six or seven. She was wearing a little blue dress with no shoes. She was crying so hard her face was turning red. Cops were stationed everywhere on the street and the yard. The rain was coming down in torrents and that poor little girl was shaking so hard, the guy was having a hard time holding onto her. Just when we thought he'd give her up, he wrapped her hair tighter around his fist. It was hard as hell to watch. Too hard for Ten. She broke every fucking rule in the book that day, but it was awesome."
"Yeah? What'd she do?"
My head was back in that day. It was pouring rain but the memory was like a clear day. "I heard her next to me mutter 'fuck this shit'. Next thing I know, Ten is handing me her gun. I tell her, don't, Ten. He's strung out. He could fire that thing at anytime. She ignores me. She holds out her arms and just marches toward the guy. His eyes nearly bug out of his head and he points the gun at Ten. But she just keeps walking. I pull my gun and aim it at the guy's at his head, but I'm not convinced I can get a clean shot. Ten walks up the two steps. She draws that fist of hers back and bops the guy hard enough to make him release his hold on the little girl. Ten grabs hold of her and manages to get a backward kick hard into the guy's balls before carrying the little girl to safety."
"Holy shit. I'd heard about that day through the grapevine but hearing it from an eyewitness. Shit. What was going through your head? Besides the fear of losing Ten?"
I put the keys in the ignition. "I thought she was the only female cop at the scene and the only one wearing a mega pair of balls. And yeah, the fear of losing her had me fucking spinning. I think that's when it was solid in my head that there wasn't ever going to be anyone else in my life like Ten."
"Man, wish I'd been there to see that." Silvana pulls his seatbelt around him. "That must have been something else."
"Yep." I start the car. "Guess it's back to work."
9
Kane
I stare at my phone, watching her dance around her room, alone, in panties and a bra. She spent countless hours alone in that room for no other reason except I didn't want to share her with anyone else. There were times when I found myself jealous as hell of Blake. She was so fond of him. They were constantly laughing. Their conversations came so naturally. But there was nothing natural about our relationship. Mostly becau
se there is nothing natural about me.
A knock sounds on the door. Oscar pops his head in. "The plane is ready."
"Thanks. I'll be right there." I have a hard time clicking out of the video. It's all I have of her now, the snippets of security images and videos I saved before deleting it all, the entire Lace Underground. She came. She conquered. She destroyed. Yet I still have to watch the videos occasionally just to assure myself she was real. Every goddamn glorious inch of her was real. And for a short stretch of time, she belonged to me.
10
Maddox
I park my motorcycle and pull off my helmet. I rest back on the seat and stare at the rundown beach house, my uncle's pride and joy. Television glow wavers from light to dark against the kitchen curtains. For the millionth time, I silently wish that everything was back to the way it was before Freestone. Before Angie decided to march headlong into a dangerous assignment. I want badly to be sitting back in the smelly, hot car with Ten, staking out some dimwitted drug dealer or arguing over what taco stand has the best hot sauce. I want to go back to the time before all this, a time when I could quietly suffer the heartbreak of knowing that Ten and I weren't ever meant to be together. I want back to the time when I had to stoically endure the torture of being with her, loving her, wanting her, knowing I would never have her. Who knew those would be simpler times?
I knock a few times before using the key to enter. Three candy bar wrappers are sitting next to an empty carton of milk on the coffee table. Ten is curled up on the couch under the wool throw blanket. I pick up the remote and shut off the television. The sudden silence wakes her. Her copper hair falls back off her face as she lifts her head from her self-made cocoon.
"Didn't mean to wake you. Maybe you should head into the bedroom."
She sits up all the way and squints even though the only light is coming from the kitchen.
"Do you need some aspirin?" I ask.
She nods weakly. "Please."
I head to the kitchen for the bottle of aspirin. She gets up from the couch as I return. She's pulled on a pair of drawstring pajama pants and a cropped t-shirt. Her nipples push against the thin fabric. I swallow hard and pull my gaze away.
Her hair is wild and uncombed. Some of the color is coming back to her face. She's a stunning mess. My heart races just looking at her.
She holds out her palm out for the aspirin. It's just shaky enough to talk myself into setting my hand underneath hers to steady it. I leave it there pressed against hers for longer than necessary. She makes no move to pull it away quickly.
"It's so late," she says before pushing the aspirin into her mouth. "Were you still working?"
"Yeah, Silvana and I made a couple of arrests. The jerks were either lazy or stupid or both. Thought they could ship a hundred grand worth of crack through the parcel service." I walk to the kitchen for a cold drink. "Had to write up the paperwork alone. Clark has Silvana working on researching what's his name." I can't bring myself to say his name, especially not in front of her. When I turn back with my soda, Ten has her arms lifted high to tie her hair up in a rubber band. The edge of her short t-shirt lifts high enough to expose the bottom curves of her breasts.
She catches me staring at her and a glimmer of a smile shows on her face. It's a teasing smile I've never seen before. That's when it occurs to me. We never flirted. We avoided it. We taunted each other with sarcasm, insults and the occasional polite thank you or sorry but flirting was off limits. Flirting could get in the way of work.
I lean against the counter to finish my soda. Ten walks into the kitchen. The pajama pants are so low on her thin hips, I can see the top of her bikini underwear. Blue and unexpectedly lacy.
"It's O.K., you know—" She reaches into the cupboard and pulls out a box of cereal. Another movement that lifts the extra short t-shirt, a clothing item I'm becoming instantly obsessed with. Her ribs are still way too prominent, but the curve of her breast causes my cock to tighten.
"What's O.K.?" I ask after recovering from the cereal reach.
"You can say his name. I won't turn to a puddle of tears or throw furniture around the room in anger."
I turn so she can't see my expression. Ten knows me too well.
"Shit," she says. I turned too late. "That's what you want. You wish I would hear Kane Freestone and fall apart at the mere mention of his name. You want me to go screaming like a banshee through the living room, tearing my hair out with rage just hearing his name."
I shake my head. "Never said that. Like always, you're putting words in my mouth." I scoot past her. "I need a shower."
She slips easily past me and stands in the doorway to the hall. "Why don't you tell me, James Maddox. Tell me what the proper reaction should be in a situation like this. What's the right way for me to act to comport with your view of how I should behave? Fucking tell me, Maddox." Her brown eyes shine with tears of anger. "Don't be such a fucking coward and tell me."
I kick the coffee table. It stutters across the floor. Candy wrappers float around like dead leaves. "You want to know? Do you really want to know? Tell me you hate the motherfucker. A little fucking outrage about the way he treated you, that would be nice. Say fucking something about how you hated every damn minute of being near the guy. That, that would be good for a fucking start."
The tears she'd been keeping back start to roll down her face. I'm still getting used to a Ten who cries, a Ten who lets every emotion show. It makes me step back in regret. "I don't know what else to say, Ten." I can hear the strain in my voice. "You know I'm never good at talking about what I'm feeling."
A short laugh spurts from her lips. She wipes the tears off her face. "Really? Cuz those last few lines sounded pretty damn real. Like you've been fucking rehearsing them. But if it'll help you, I mean that's what's important here, then I'll say whatever you fucking want. Whatever will help stroke your ginormous male ego." She sticks out her arms. "I hate Kane Freestone. I cringe at the very thought of him touching me. Does that work? Is that what you want to hear? Only, I guess I should say it with more conviction cuz, to be perfectly honest, when you ask me to say it, you're really just telling me you want me to feel ashamed about it. "
My chest feels tighter with every word. More than anything because she's right. She can still read me like a big, open, large print fucking book.
"You're right. I'm being a selfish asshole. Who knew I had it in me, huh?" Our bodies lightly brush against each other. Hot static charges exchange but are quickly broken when I walk past.
"Or maybe I should come up with a good story that'll really set your mind at ease," she continues through a sob. "There were no leather cuffs or anklets, no spankings or sex that made my head spin. Kane and I sat and played card games every night. I'll bet that's what you and Tiffany were doing too. Playing fucking cards," she yells as I shut the bathroom door.
I flinch when she kicks the door hard and stomps away. The shower heats up fast as I strip off my clothes. I replay the last few minutes in my head until I can't stand to replay them anymore.
I stand under the shower, lean my head against the tile wall and let the hot water pour over me. A ruffle of cool air moves the shower curtain as the bathroom door opens and closes. The shower curtain is decorated with pictures of rainbow trout. It folds up and Ten steps into the shower still wearing the drawstring pants and the cropped shirt and the sad look I've seen way too often.
I gaze at her for a long moment, trying to remember back to that first day, when she walked into Clark's office. "Sometimes I wish we were just two strangers." My throat is dry considering I'm standing in a cloud of steam. "You know? Two people who just showed up at the coffee shop at the same time."
Her lip curls up slightly. "You wouldn't even look my direction if we met in a coffee shop."
"See. That's bullshit. That's what you tell yourself but you're wrong."
She steps toward me. Every inch of me reacts to her presence. I keep my hands fisted at my sides, wanting nothing more than t
o take hold of her, kiss her, do every damn thing I've been dreaming about for the last three years. But my arms stay tight at my sides.
Ten steps under the shower head. Water pours down her head, soaking her shirt. It clings to her wet skin and breasts. Her lips press against my chest. I've imagined her lips on me a million times. This time it's real and I can't react. Neither of us is ready to face this. There are too many tangles right now. Nothing is right at the moment. Nothing makes sense. The only thing certain and solid in my head is that I love her. It feels like I've loved her forever.
She pulls her lips away. I release the breath I've been holding.
Her expressive brown eyes are rimmed by long wet lashes as she peers up at me.
"It's not about making you feel shame." I push a strand of wet hair off her forehead. "I hate the guy for touching you. This is about him. Not about you. I fucking hate that he touched you. I fucking hate him for it."
She pushes her forehead against my chest and stares down at the water circling the drain beneath our feet. "I'm worried, Maddox." The sound of rushing water nearly mutes her quiet voice. "I'm worried that we won't get past this."
I wrap my arms around her and hold her. "Yeah, me too."
11
Angie
The misty air cools the sweat on my face as my feet pound the wet sand. It took some self-convincing but I managed to coax myself out of bed early, while the gray haze still blanketed the coast, eat a good breakfast and go for a run. I'd been a runner my whole life. It gave me an edge on the track team in high school. Most of my teammates hated the grueling five mile before school runs but I loved them. When I was in tiptop shape, it felt as if I could run forever. But this morning, a mile back and forth along the sand is my max. I feel great but I'm sure I'll suffer for it later.