Code 11- KPD SWAT Box Set

by Lani Lynn Vale

  “Concrete. It’s being stained Monday,” he explained, pulling out a square and showing it to me.

  “Wow, that’s what it will look like? That doesn’t even look like concrete,” I exclaimed.

  He nodded. “Yeah, it looks pretty good. And, that way, the countertops will never break or go out of date.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense. Is there any other construction going on besides this main part of the house?”

  He shook his head and took my hand, leading me to the back door and the porch beyond it.

  “I’m having a well dug right there. Although, I’m fairly positive there’s one already on the property, I haven’t been able to find it. I’ve been looking for months,” he said.

  I walked down the porch steps and out into the trees beyond, scanning the area. “How do you know there’s a well?”

  He shrugged. “The neighbors. Well, the ones that’ll talk to me, that is.”

  I nodded. “Let’s look.”

  He grinned and started walking behind me, hands in his pockets. “It won’t look like a normal well. It’ll probably only be a hole in the ground with some sort of grate covering it.”

  “Like something I could fall into and never come back out again? Like Little Timmy, minus the Lassie, to save me?” I teased.

  He gave me a droll look.

  “You think I wouldn’t save you?” he asked, really making the mock hurt in his voice apparent.

  I shrugged. “If you saw me fall down.”

  “Huh,” he grunted, not really having much to say to that.

  It was true. A harsh truth, but true nonetheless.

  “How many acres do you have here?” I asked him a little while later.

  Stepping over a large trunk in front of him, he stopped on the other side and offered me his hand.

  I took it and stepped up onto the large fallen tree, then launched myself at him.

  He caught me with a laugh, twirling me up and around until I was on his back.

  I laughed breathlessly in reaction.

  “A little over thirty,” he answered my earlier question.

  We walked a little while longer, keeping me on his back.

  He had his hands curled underneath my knees, and his forearms were braced underneath the lower part of my leg.

  I had my head rested on his back when we heard dogs barking.

  Dogs that weren’t ours, since we’d left them at our apartment.

  “How close are your nearest neighbors?” I questioned.

  He shrugged, making my body go up and down with the movement of his shoulder. “No clue, to be honest. Calloway lives about four miles down the road past the entrance to my driveway, and I’d guess we were closest to his property. Yet, I don’t think we’re really that close. We haven’t gotten off my property yet, I have a fence surrounding it, from what I was told.”

  I ran my chin along his head and said, “You don’t like it out here, do you?”

  He sighed. “Not really, no. It reminds me of what I don’t have. What I lost. The only reason I’m fixing it up now was because I was tired of having Miller and Foster at my place. They’re great guys, and they can stay for as long as they want, I just don’t see why I shouldn’t move out here when I have my own place.”

  I leaned my head down until it was resting on his shoulder and let my hand slip around his muscled throat, curling it to rest under his ear.

  “Then sell it,” I countered.

  “If I sell it, then Prescott will just buy out the next owner, and I don’t want him to have it. It’s petty, yes, but I feel like I owe it to my dad.” Downy sighed in exasperation.

  “You don’t talk about him much,” I observed.

  He shrugged. “He died when I was fourteen when his rig exploded. They never found his body because it burned so hot, but they knew he was there. He and twelve other men died that night.”

  I kissed his ear. “That’s awful.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, it was. I loved my dad, and I looked up to him. It was a hard transition. All of a sudden, I no longer had my father at a crucial age when I needed him the most. Then my mom lost the house when she couldn’t pay the house note. It all just snowballed from there. It wasn’t a fun experience, and I hope I never have to live through anything like that again.”

  “My mom and dad had a period like that when I was thirteen or so. The MC’s clubhouse burned down to the ground, and with it the paint and auto body shop that my dad owned next door, as well as our house,” I said quietly, looking out over the woods in front of us. “It was all connected on the same piece of property, and it was all gone in one fell swoop. It took a couple years to get back on our feet. It taught me a good lesson, though, and that was to always have a backup plan. Luckily, my parents had one.”

  “Well, we’re all shits and giggles, now, aren’t we?” Downy laughed, swinging me down off his back.

  I landed on the balls of my feet and wrapped my hands around his large bicep.

  “I want to have seven kids,” I said abruptly.

  He froze and looked down at me, clearly startled with my quick change of subject. “Oh, yeah? Do you know what that does to your ass?”

  I snorted. “I was an only child, and I wanted a brother or a sister like crazy. I think that would’ve helped my dad, too, if he could’ve split the overprotectiveness between two, instead of one.”

  “Your dad can only do what he knows, and he told me he’s been a cop since he got out of high school. If all you ever see is ugliness, then that’s all you’ll ever expect,” Downy replied quietly.

  “Downy, do you have bad dreams?” I blurted out.

  He looked down at me and nodded once. “Yeah. Not about anything in particular, though. Pretty much just about the life that I’ve lived.”

  Well, that was a vague answer if I’d ever heard one.

  “If you ever want to talk…” I left the offer hanging in the air between us, but he didn’t say anything more about the subject, so I assumed it was closed.

  He came to a stop on a rise, a large ravine-type area was down below us with a shit load of old furniture and household items in it.

  “This your old dumping grounds?” I asked, amusement tinting my voice.

  “Nope. That looks fairly new, though. Not any leaves or anything on it. Motherfucker,” he growled. “Looks like I’ll have to make a trip around the property line. You game?”

  I nodded. “Sure, why not. What’s a little frostbite, anyway?”

  He winked at my teasing. “Keep your eye out for tracks. They couldn’t have gotten all this down here without a truck.”

  I nodded, and we started walking once again.

  My hands were planted in the light jacket’s pockets, and my head was down, studying the ground around me.

  “What’s this from?” I asked, pointing to where the ground was uprooted for as far as I could see.

  “Wild hogs. They’re pretty rampant around here, that’s why, in the state of Texas, they’re allowed to be hunted all year long.”

  We came up on a larger rise with a small embankment on it, and I was surprised to find a large creek running like a small lazy river.

  “Wow,” I said in surprise. “I didn’t realize you had a creek on your property.”

  He shrugged. “Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. I think there must be a beaver or something upstream that stops it from flowing all that well. The last time I was here it was nothing more than a trickle. The water goes all the way down to the Sabine River, which is about six miles that way,” he pointed with his fingers to the horizon. “As the crow flies.”

  “You should go searching to see if there really is a beaver dam. Then blow the fucker to smithereens,” I hesitated. “The dam… not the beaver.”

  He tossed me a grin. “If I don’t off the beaver, there’ll just be another dam in a few weeks’ time.”

  I shrugged. “I suppose you could do whatever you
wanted to do. But just make sure I don’t see you kill the damn beaver.”

  He chuckled and continued to walk, grabbing my hand as we went.

  He helped me over numerous downed logs, trees, and generally rough ground. However, not one time did we see any breaks in the fence, nor any tracks.

  “Whose property is that?” I asked, indicating the fence that looked different from the rest.

  “Prescott’s land. He’s surrounded his entire property with that frou-frou shit. It had to have cost him a fuckin’ fortune.” He shook his head.

  I bet.

  The whole thing was made of steel, and there was an intricate interwoven design at the top that spelled out the name ‘Prescott’ every three feet or so.

  “The man obviously has too much money. How many acres does this span?” I asked in awe.

  Seriously, this fence had to have cost a freakin’ fortune!

  “He owns all of the property from where the fence starts, all the way down my property line. His land butts up to the highway on the north side,” he explained.

  As I envisioned this, I couldn’t hold back the awe. “Wow, that’s a lot of land.”

  He nodded and we turned the final corner that led us along the fence that lined the highway.

  “It is. I’m still unclear how this land got separated in the breakup between my mother and Prescott. But, I guess, I should just be thankful that I have it,” Downy muttered darkly.

  He sounded bitter, and I really didn’t blame him.

  There had to be more to the story than what he was told, and I’m sure it was his pride that held him back from asking either his mom or Prescott himself.

  Whatever the case, I didn’t bring it up again that day, and I’d be regretting not pressing the issue when I had the chance.

  Especially since the night we got home from his place, he completely locked me out of not only his thoughts but from his sight as well.

  It’d be another three days before I heard from him again.

  Chapter 13

  You can suck it. Your fuckin’ mom can suck it, too.

  -Memphis, to the officer that pulled a douche move and gave her a ticket for no freakin’ reason.

  Memphis

  “So you’re telling me that a police officer can pull me over for going a single mile an hour over the speed limit?” I asked. “Seems to me to be kind of a dickish move.”

  Chief Rhodes’ eyes sparkled with mirth. “It’s up to the discretion of the police officer. However, most officers don’t give tickets for going one mile an hour over. It’s too hard to uphold in court. There are too many things that could go wrong. We have to have a certain leeway for our machine’s calibration, as well as your speedometer.”

  I glared at him, waving the paper ticket in his face. “It clearly says thirty-one miles an hour in a thirty. He didn’t say a word about any stinkin’ calibration of machines.”

  Chief Rhodes grimaced. “It really is up to their discretion. You can take it to court, though, and get it knocked off.”

  “I’m not taking shit to court. I’m just going to make that kid’s life a living hell,” I growled, glaring at the Chief.

  “What’s this officer’s name?” The Chief, I could tell, was trying his best not laugh. He looked like he was appeasing me. Stalling or something.

  I pulled out my phone and practically shoved it in his face. “And aren’t they supposed to have their hat on or something?”

  “That’s a state trooper,” Downy’s amused voice came from behind me.

  I whirled around and pinned him with a look that could strip paint. “And you… I’m not talking to you!”

  I highlighted that point by taking three long steps toward him and poking him in the chest.

  His brows rose.

  “Why?” he asked in amusement.

  I didn’t bother telling him why. If I had to tell him, then he wouldn’t understand.

  It would also totally defeat the purpose of the silent treatment I was about to give him.

  I walked away from them both, ignoring both of the men’s confused faces.

  I was really, really mad.

  On my way to school, I’d gone past the police station to see if Downy was there.

  He had been, but as I’d been about to turn into the parking lot, I’d seen him walking someone in through the back door.

  The person he’d been escorting had been handcuffed at the time, so I was fairly sure he was busy unless that was just a new game he liked to play with his friends.

  So I’d continued on, only to get pulled over a half mile from school, by an officer saying that I was ‘speeding,’ when I wasn’t. He said I’d been going one mile over, and I said that I wasn’t.

  He gave me a ticket anyway, and I called him an asshole.

  Then I’d had to come to class to, not only listen to a lecture about cop ethics, but also to see the very same fucker who’d given me the ticket talking about his job as a patrolman, and how his day had been ‘fun.’

  And fuck me, but I’d had to leave. I couldn’t handle seeing his ugly, snotty face any longer.

  Officer Prescott was a douche canoe.

  So, as Chief Rhodes gave us the break we usually got around eight-thirty in the evening, I’d gotten my stuff gathered and started to leave.

  Chief Rhodes, however, had followed me out asking if I was okay.

  Which had then turned into a screaming match, but only on my part.

  And that little fucking weasel, Officer Adrian Prescott, had come out, grinning at me and the Chief.

  I’d known that he’d heard, but I didn’t care.

  Which led me to now.

  Pounding down the back steps, I slammed out the front door, very aware of the dog that was keeping close to my heels which, inevitably, meant that the dog’s owner wasn’t far behind.

  I made it all the way out the backdoor, and around the side of the building when the strong arm finally wrapped around my waist, hauling me backward.

  I gasped as I turned in Downy’s arms but stayed silent, staring at his chest, so I didn’t get sucked into his beautiful eyes and decide to talk.

  “What’s your problem, Hells Bells?” Downy growled, running the tip of his nose along the bridge of mine.

  I refused to answer, even if he was using the cute nickname he’d started calling me over the past couple of weeks.

  You know, when he was actually there.

  I shook my head, crossing my arms as best as I could across my boobs.

  He leaned down, giving me a soft kiss on the cheek, then kept moving.

  “Tell me,” he said, licking along my jugular.

  I broke.

  “You put the wall back up,” I said accusingly. “And you stopped sleeping with me in my bed.”

  He smiled, leaning down to slowly lick the seam of my lips. “The door swings both ways, sweetheart. I haven’t seen you in my bed.”

  I wanted to punch him for always being so logical.

  “You weren’t there. What’d you want me to do, go over there and wait in your bed? What if Miller or Foster had walked in and seen me naked, draped across it?” I asked, pulling him down so I could suck on his neck.

  He hitched my leg up, and I lifted the other one to help as he wrapped them around his waist and held me aloft. Then started walking to his truck.

  God, this part of our relationship definitely didn’t need any help whatsoever. We had the sex game down pat.

  When a group of students started to pour out of the back exit, laughing and carrying on, I made a move to get off of him.

  Conversely, he felt the shift of my legs and held me in place.

  His free hand that wasn’t under my ass was clamped around both of my ankles, keeping me planted against his jutting erection as he kept walking to the truck.

  I didn’t protest too much, though.

  Mostly because I was right where I wanted to be. It’d been a long
time, at least four days, since I’d seen him last, and nearly a week since I’d had him between my thighs.

  It’d also been nearly two weeks since we’d spent any time together, other than the cursory, ‘Hey, how ‘ya doing’ thing.

  In fact, the last time I’d spent actually talking to him, as opposed to sleeping, was when he’d taken me to his house to show me what he was working on.

  Then, this morning, I’d gotten home to find my wall fixed, and I wouldn’t even have him slipping into my bed in the wee hours of the morning anymore.

  Raucous laughter had my eyes uncrossing from the pleasure of Downy sucking on my neck to look up and find the two of us the center of nearly six people’s attention.

  Then, he did some twisting of his hips and yanked the back door to his truck open before climbing inside.

  And the fact that he was carrying a hundred and thirty pounds of dead weight didn’t affect him in the slightest.

  I sighed when he settled down in the seat, allowing me to place both of my knees on either side of his hips.

  “You wanna know my favorite thing about you wearing skirts all the time?” Downy asked teasingly.

  I rose up, letting the top of my clit dig into the steel-hard dick Downy was packing behind his jeans.

  “W-what?” I asked, grinding up and back against his length.

  He held my hips as he ground up, letting his erection press against the seam of my jeans.

  “It’s easy to pull your skirt up and fuck you. Now I have to pull your pants off to be able to accomplish the same thing,” he growled.

  I snorted, giving him a soft, wet kiss on the lips before I said, “We didn’t need to be doing that, anyway. There are too many people here, not to mention the number of people outside, only guessing at what, exactly, we’re doing.”

  He laughed darkly. “They can go fuck themselves. The only person I care about is currently sitting on my lap with her tits within sucking distance of my mouth.”

  I smiled tightly at him. “I care about what they think. They can see me, and I’m the one who has to come back to class each week.”

  I was saying all the right things, of course, but even the thought of doing it in his truck with everybody around was turning me on beyond belief.