Code 11- KPD SWAT Box Set

by Lani Lynn Vale

  Leaning forward, I let the girl’s head drift off my shoulder into my waiting hand. The dad understood instantly, holding out his arms, taking the child from me.

  He took in my spunky Captain America scrubs and shook his head. A small smirk kicking up the side of his top lip.

  “Luke!” A woman’s voice called from the entrance.

  I turned to see a beautiful blonde coming through the front entrance. A paramedic.

  Another woman with red hair followed behind her, pushing the stretcher.

  His face showed instant relief at the sight of the woman who charged forward and threw her arms around the man and child.

  Wife.

  Had to be.

  “What’s going on, is she okay?” the woman asked worriedly.

  I explained, cutting off the man’s words. “She was stung by a bee on the playground. A little over seven minutes ago,” I said looking down at my watch. “We used the EpiPen on her. Lower left thigh.”

  As I explained what had happened, and what her stats were, the red headed woman started taking down notes on a clip board, documenting what I was saying.

  The other woman, the blonde, watched me with an intentness that showed her concern for the small girl.

  When they all left together, five minutes later, I watched as the big man stepped up into the back of the ambulance, and the red head shut the doors behind the couple.

  My heart panged as I wished I had something like that, then I ruthlessly shut the thought down.

  Love was a fucking joke.

  I should know. I’d been in love before. I’d also had that love ruined, forever tainted by my ex.

  Nope, no more love for Reese Doherty anymore.

  Or so I kept telling myself.

  Chapter 2

  Daddies. Better than a superhero any day.

  -Katy

  Luke

  I walked into the school the next day, Katerina’s small hand held in mine.

  “Daddy, don’t forget you’re picking me up today,” Katy informed me happily.

  I rolled my eyes. This was the fourth time she’d told me in the twenty minutes it’d taken us to get to the school.

  “I know, honey. I was the one to tell you, remember?” I asked as I opened the first door that led into the school.

  “Yes, daddy. But you forgot last time,” she scolded me.

  I snorted.

  By forgot, it meant I was five minutes late picking her up, which was to be expected when I had to pull over a car that was going more than thirty miles an hour over the speed limit. In a school zone. Weaving. And talking on a cell phone.

  “Yes, baby. I’ll be here,” I said again.

  As I walked Katy to her class, I stopped at her teacher’s door and squatted down, giving her a kiss on the forehead before pulling her into my chest.

  God yesterday had been terrifying.

  I’d gotten the call while I was at work and couldn’t get here fast enough.

  She’d had reactions like that before, which was why she had the EpiPen in the first place, but I’d always been with her when it’d happened.

  As I watched her walk into class and hang her bag up under her cubby, I felt my heart pang at the realization that I could’ve lost her.

  Jesus.

  Standing, I turned and made my way back down the hall, purposefully not walking on the red footsteps seeing as every single kid in the place wouldn’t deviate from their path.

  My next destination was the nurse’s office to give the nurse another EpiPen.

  Just in case.

  The room was bright and cheerful. Pictures of a sick Winnie the Pooh and Piglet were painted on the wall with a doctor Tigger taking care of them.

  In the corner of the room were two cots for the children, and on the opposite side was a glass enclosed office where the nurse, from yesterday, sat behind a large mahogany desk.

  She was much cuter than I remembered.

  Although, my mind hadn’t been centered on the woman as it was now.

  What did she say her name was? Had I even gotten it?

  She spotted me as soon as I walked through the door, but she had her phone to her ear as she spoke quickly into it.

  Normally, I would’ve backed out of the office, but I was in a hurry, needing to get to work in less than a half hour to finish up paperwork that I had to turn in for the training we’d done yesterday.

  Walking in, I held out the new med to her and smiled, nodding my head.

  “Mom, can I call you back after your treatment? I have someone in my office,” the woman said urgently.

  After a few more nods, she murmured, “Love you. Call me if you need me.”

  As she hung up, she smiled at me. “I’m sorry. My mom’s on her last round of chemotherapy, and I wanted to wish her luck.”

  Tough.

  I hadn’t known anybody, personally, who had cancer, but from what I’d observed over my thirty-five years, it was a tough disease to conquer.

  “Not a problem,” I murmured, mesmerized by her emerald green eyes.

  They reminded me of my ex-girlfriend’s, which wasn’t a good thing.

  I remembered those eyes as being annoyed that I’d chosen my kid over her. Why that would be a surprise when I’d told her as much, was beyond me.

  I also had a sneaking suspicion that her parents had a lot to do with the decision.

  When I’d met Lydia Mooney, she’d been having lunch with my mother and father.

  We’d started dating shortly after meeting, and I’d spent my Junior and Senior year with her.

  Then we’d had a falling out because I’d joined the Marines, and she hadn’t wanted that life.

  We’d broken it off.

  A few years later, I’d rekindled my relationship with Lydia, but Katy, my one-night stand baby, became a bone of contention between us.

  Although we hadn’t gotten back together, officially, it wasn’t a solid ‘no’ either.

  When I found out I had a child, I’d gotten out of the Marines, and started my relationship with Lydia back up again. At first, I thought it was because our relationship was so new, but then I started seeing how Lydia never wanted to be in the same room as Katy. Nor did she want to hold her.

  After confronting Lydia about how she was acting, she admitted that she didn’t want to be with me if I was willing to keep another woman’s kid. A kid that I’d so carelessly made before we’d gotten back together. Not willing to choose her over my kid, I’d finally called it quits, and moved.

  “Is that for me?” Reese asked, gesturing toward the medication.

  I blinked, startled by the sharp turn my thoughts had taken just by seeing the woman’s eyes.

  Green was fucking green. They didn’t determine a person’s demeanor.

  I nodded and handed it over. “Yep. I didn’t want her to be without it in case she needed it again.”

  She nodded and stood, walking over to the stack of paper holders on the counter behind her. Reaching forward, she took a sheet out of the top stack and handed it to me. “This is just the standard form: When I can give it. What I give it for. Although I already know the reasons, and I know how to use it, the school needs a record just in case.”

  I nodded and started filling it out while she made herself busy across the room by opening a box that I saw was filled with the paper that covered the exam tables.

  Clicking the pen closed, I stood and took her in.

  Today she was wearing her hair down.

  It was thick and glossy, reminding me of the women in the shampoo commercials who shook it out in slow, exaggerated movements.

  I hadn’t been aware that people in real life actually had hair like that.

  It was beautiful, though.

  Long and brown with reddish highlights, it reminded me of the sun shining off the lake’s surface right at sunset.

  Today, she was wearing Transformer scrubs, which made me want
to laugh.

  What? Did this woman have a super hero obsession?

  Tired of having her back to me, I walked to her side and laid the paper down on the counter before saying, “Where’s Mrs. Redden?”

  I hadn’t meant it to come out sounding harsh or accusing, but it did.

  “She’s actually retiring. She’s been spending more time in the office with her sister, as of late. If you need her, I can go find her for you,” she offered, not sounding offended in the least by my harsh question.

  However, her previously open body posture was now closed off, and as a cop for the last fifteen years, I knew when to back off. So I did.

  “No, honey. I’m not looking for her. I was just wondering where she was. I do have to go, though. I have a mountain of paperwork to tackle before this afternoon when school lets out,” I said heading toward the door, not understanding why she was affecting me like she was.

  “Have a good day,” she said softly.

  I turned and nodded once at her, walking out shortly after.

  I’d made it nearly all the way to the front doors when I turned back around and walked back to her office.

  I found her standing beside the counter still, but her head was hung in what looked like defeat.

  “Ms. Doherty?” I asked.

  She looked up quickly, her hand going to her chest. “Yes?”

  “Thank you for saving my girl.”

  With that I left, going straight to the department.

  ***

  Papers slammed down on my desk and I sighed, leaning back in my chair to study the asshole who’d been responsible.

  “What the fuck?” I asked.

  The blonde beauty, James if you wanted to be technical, smiled unrepentantly at me. “Got the papers in the mail today. It’s all yours.”

  I sighed and rubbed my forehead, sick and fucking tired of all the paperwork I’d been doing lately. It was nearly suffocating.

  If I’d known that being promoted to assistant chief was going to get me so much work, I’d have told the commissioner he could shove the promotion up his ass.

  It’d originally been for a short time only, but had changed quickly when the old assistant chief, Briscoe Coolidge, had a setback with his multiple sclerosis. He’d been left with no other option but to retire.

  And with me being the most experienced, I was the ‘best man’ for the job, so to speak.

  Not that I’d agree, but what-the-fuck ever.

  Now I spent my days doing fucking paperwork out the ass, patrolling when I wasn’t chained to my desk, all the while I still did my duty as the SWAT team captain.

  Then trying to spend some time with my child.

  Trying being the operative word, because the demands of my job left very little free time since we were short nearly eight full time officers.

  “You could’ve just called in telling me the results of your physical,” I said tiredly.

  He nodded and sat in the seat across from my desk. “I’m sure I could’ve. But then I couldn’t witness the expression on your face when I told you that you’re invited to a party that your sister requires your presence at. Three weeks from Saturday.”

  I grimaced. “Then why are you telling me, and not my sister?”

  “I went by to give my wife a kiss and saw your sister there. When she told me she was going to come by here next, I offered to do it for her,” he smiled jovially.

  Fucker.

  My sister, Baylee, was married to a man I was fairly sure was a murderer.

  Sebastian Mackenzie.

  I couldn’t prove it, but deep down I knew it to be true.

  However, Sebastian had been doing it to protect his sister, Shiloh, and the very man standing in front of me, who was also happened to be married to Shiloh.

  That didn’t mean I was completely forgiving.

  I was a cop, through and through.

  I’d served eight years in the marines as an MP.

  When my daughter had been born, I’d gotten out and immediately found a job in my hometown as a Sherriff’s deputy.

  Once I left Lydia, I moved to Texas to be near my sister, and joined the Kilgore Police Department.

  It’d been six years since I’d moved here, and I couldn’t contemplate doing anything else.

  Well…maybe less paperwork, but other than that, I loved my job.

  “How nice of you,” I said dryly.

  He grinned unrepentantly. “No problem, boss.”

  I flipped him off and shoved his papers back into the pile that was designated ‘fucking later.’

  It wasn’t labeled or anything, but everybody knew it as that. Something about me saying, ‘Put it there, I’ll get to it sometime fucking later.’

  That sounded exactly like something I wanted to do.

  “What’s on the agenda for this week?” James asked, stretching his legs out in front of him, knocking my desk in a rhythmic pattern with his foot.

  Sighing, I finally put the pen down, that’d been in my hands for over four hours, and looked at him.

  “We have to go to the schools tomorrow,” I said, not that he didn’t already know this. “And have a talk about ‘school safety,’ at all of the Kilgore campuses. The superintendent says he wants to be prepared after the incident last week.”

  The ‘incident’ I was speaking of was of an old man with dementia trying to go to lunch. He’d thought he was eleven again, and he’d tried valiantly to get into the school, but a teacher had called the police, and the campus had been locked down.

  When we’d gotten there, I understood completely what had alarmed the teacher. Let’s just say that the man hadn’t aged well, and it was true what they said about your balls sagging with age.

  “Who all signed up to go?” James asked.

  “Nico refused. Downy has to be in court tomorrow. But the rest of us are a go,” I said.

  It wasn’t that much of a surprise to me, either, that Nico had refused to go.

  Nico was definitely the loner of the group.

  A very quiet, laid back man. He had a heart of steel and a will of iron.

  Nothing shook the man.

  Nico was the exact opposite of Downy, my best friend.

  Downy was talkative, friendly, and open- most of the time. He could talk with anybody, anywhere.

  He had a gift and he didn’t waste it.

  Downy started classes to become a hostage negotiator upon my request because he was so good at it.

  He had the perfect ability to get nearly anyone to talk.

  “Nico would’ve scared everyone anyway with his devilish looks and glare that could make even a woman’s balls shrivel up,” James quipped as he stood, cracking his knuckles and making me wince.

  “Leaving already?” I asked.

  I’d tried to sound saddened by the idea, but it came out sounding more hopeful, causing James to laugh.

  “Yeah, man. I’ve got to go get some work done in the garage today. I bought a new bike. You should try it out,” James offered.

  James always offered.

  I just wasn’t a motorcycle person.

  I was a hot rod type of person.

  I liked a motor that was so loud your eardrums threatened to burst.

  I liked the feel of a throaty engine vibrating the entire car around me.

  I liked the feel of the stick shift underneath my hand as I waited to throw it down and give it all it had.

  Currently, I was working on an old GTO.

  It needed a lot of work, but in my spare time, that was what I did for fun.

  I’d just dropped the motor in last week and planned to get the tranny in this week.

  It was going to be fucking sweet.

  “I don’t want to try it out. I like my skin covering my bones, thank you very much,” I said as I stood. “Now get the fuck out so I can finish this shit and go home.”

  He saluted me, using his middle finger, before turn
ing to leave.

  “Take it easy,” he said as he exited.

  “Will do,” I nodded, then closed the door behind him.

  Turning back to my papers, I sighed long and loud before getting back to work.

  One thing stayed on my mind the entire afternoon, though.

  Reese Doherty in her stupid superhero scrubs.

  Chapter 3

  Is it just me, or does Frozen suck just as bad the 299th time as it did the 33rd?

  -Reese’s secret thoughts

  Reese

  “Rowen Diane Doherty, if you don’t go get your freakin’ shoes on, I’ll take that stupid princess doll away from you and rip her legs off,” I fumed.

  Okay, so maybe that sounded harsh, but it was time to go. Ten minutes ago.

  Rowen was a five-year-old terror that had a princess complex.

  How she got that princess complex, I didn’t know, but she had it. And I didn’t like it one bit.

  “Is daddy coming to get me this weekend?” Rowen asked as she walked slower than molasses to her room.

  I clenched my eyes tightly shut in a vain attempt to hold onto my patience.

  I’d been doing fairly well holding on, too.

  Then she had to go and mention the sperm donor, and all nice, peaceful thoughts I’d been trying to keep in my head left in a fuckin’ rush.

  Rowen’s father was an asshole. He didn’t give a shit about his kid unless I was trying to collect child support. Then he’d show up in her life, buy her things, and act like he liked her.

  Just enough to show the judge that he ‘helped’ where he could, then he’d leave again until the next time I tried to get more money. And by more money, I meant no money at all. The man didn’t pay child support. The bad thing was, that he worked in the oil field and he made good money.

  This was a process that we went through every six months to a year, since I’d had Rowen, and one I’m sure we’d continue for the next thirteen years until she turned eighteen.

  Weston Bryant was a charmer.

  He had a smooth tongue and could talk the pants off of any woman in the country. Which was what he’d done to me.

  He’d been my first.

  I’d been a twenty-four-year-old, inexperienced, sheltered girl who didn’t see the bad in anyone.

  I didn’t realize what I was getting into when I accepted that date with Weston.