Code 11- KPD SWAT Box Set

by Lani Lynn Vale

  I nodded. “What else is there?”

  “Aleo’s file has a few minor incidents. Three speeding tickets. A restraining order. That’s it,” he said, slamming the file closed and moving on to the friends.

  “And the alibi?” I asked.

  He flipped it open.

  “Ronaldo Aleo. The ex,” he said. “Couple of misdemeanors. Nothing else, though.”

  “Why would the two exes be hanging out together?” I asked, truly interested in knowing the answer.

  I didn’t know a single couple who’d divorced who was friendly with the other.

  He shook his head. “They were discussing child support or something to that effect. He was over at her house, and that’s all I got from them.”

  I nodded, but before I could ask any more questions, a shrill scream pierced the air that had both of us running into the kitchen.

  Chapter 8

  Friendship is like pissing your pants. Everyone can see it, but only you can feel its warmth. I want someone to be the piss in my pants.

  -Blake’s secret thoughts

  Foster

  We found Blake standing on the counter with a pair of grill tongs in her pot-holder-covered hands, and a lobster hanging from the very tips.

  The lobster’s front pincher was stuck in one of the grooves of the tong.

  Blake had the lobster suspended over the large pot of boiling water, and she was crying.

  “It won’t come off!” Blake cried, shaking the tongs.

  The scene was so unreal that there was only one thing I could do.

  Laugh.

  A laugh that I desperately needed.

  I limped over there after I finally managed to catch my breath and easily took the lobster off the hook and put him out of his misery.

  That’s when the screaming started.

  “Oh, my God!” she cried, huge crocodile tears pouring out of her eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me? They scream?”

  The Chief was in the corner, holding his stomach as he tried in vain to get his laughter under control.

  “Where are the rest of them?” I asked.

  She pointed to the floor.

  “Where?” I asked again.

  “Under the Tupperware,” she said, gesturing to the plastic bowls all over the floor.

  I’d originally thought that they were from her mad dash onto the counter. Now I knew different.

  Bending down, I flipped the bowl over to find one confused looking lobster.

  Picking him up, and those of his brethren, I dropped them all into the boiling water and covered the pot.

  “Now what?” I asked.

  Her eyes, though, were focused on the pot as the lobsters all thrashed around wildly as they were boiled alive.

  “That would be such a horrible way to go. I don’t think I can eat them. Not ever again,” she whispered brokenly.

  I shrugged and turned my face, which put me into the perfect place.

  Staring at her way too short shorts. Shorts that I only had to tilt my head just right and I could tell she was wearing something purple. Shorts that were God’s gift to man.

  “I’m pretty sure they don’t feel anything,” I said, backing away, knowing if I didn’t get out of there, and quick, I’d be sneaking my fingers up the miniscule pant leg and running my fingers through the lips of her sex. Sinking my thick fingers deep inside of her.

  I stumbled, drawing Blake’s attention from my face, down to my exposed legs.

  Her eyes widened when she finally saw my lack of leg.

  Saw the black graphite prosthesis that was so blatantly obvious that I couldn’t help but cringe when people stared.

  All thoughts of fucking her went out the goddamned window.

  Who the fuck knew if I could even fuck normally anymore?

  Who the fuck knew what was in store for me.

  Everything, and I do mean everything, was different now that I was missing a piece of myself.

  Walking. Driving a car. Getting out of bed. Taking a shower. Putting on motherfuckin’ pants.

  There was not one single thing that I could do easily anymore.

  Everything took forethought.

  I had to plan out my morning now, the night before.

  Used to be I could just get out of bed anytime I wanted.

  Now, I had to wake up, rub motherfuckin’ lotion on. Something I’d never done in my entire life. Then slip the liner on over what remained of my leg, fit the pin in the socket of my prosthetic, then go about my day.

  That wasn’t the end of it, though.

  There were days that I had to add extra socks to my leg because it shrinks. Then there are days I have to wear none at all because it’s bloated.

  I never realized just how much my legs changed throughout the day until I had to start fitting it into a piece of plastic that refused to bend, even a little bit.

  I turned around and left, leaving Blake’s concerned gaze at my back, passing the Chief who was staring at his feet.

  I would’ve escaped, too, as per my usual, but the minute I opened the door to leave, I ran into my over-reacting brother.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked immediately.

  I pushed past him. “I forgot my phone in the car. Is it alright if I go get it, Mom?”

  Mercy, my sister-in-law, snickered under her breath.

  She was my partner in crime, helping me get away from Miller’s concerned gaze watching my every move.

  Sometimes I felt like I couldn’t breathe… like right now.

  The last thing I wanted was for the girl I had the hots for to look at me as less of a man. Which was what Blake had done. Regardless of whether she’d meant to or not.

  ***

  “This is really good eating,” Miller said, moaning over the taste of his lobster as he ate sloppily.

  Luke, our captain on the SWAT team, snorted.

  “Kinda hard to fuck up seafood, but it is pretty good. Missy did a fine job,” Luke said, dipping his piece of the tail into the butter with his fingers.

  His wife, Reese, smacked him. “Use your fork, you Neanderthal.”

  He grinned, pieces of shellfish stuck to his teeth.

  “That’s nasty,” Georgia said, grimacing.

  Georgia was the wife to Nico, another member on the SWAT team. She was a sweet little thing that still amazed me, to this day, that she could handle the likes of her husband.

  Nico was a dark son of a bitch. Always moody and rarely talking; he never seemed approachable.

  Not that it bothered me. I could hold a conversation with him if I wanted to. I knew he’d have my back always, but I also knew he just wasn’t that much of a talker, which suited me just fine. I didn’t want to do much talking myself, lately.

  “Blake made it,” I said around a mouthful of French fries.

  Luke looked at me sharply. “Blake?”

  The Chief pointed to the back porch where Blake was currently sleeping on a hammock.

  “My niece,” he said.

  I’d been wondering why she didn’t eat, but I didn’t want to let on that I cared.

  So, I’d stayed silent and kept my eyes on her for the last two hours.

  After she’d finished cooking, she’d slipped out the backdoor, and had laid down in the hammock. Then promptly fell asleep.

  My eyes hadn’t strayed from her form since.

  She slept hard. It was almost as if she hadn’t had any sleep since the bad call she’d taken three nights before.

  Then to have her house broken into, on top of that, probably wasn’t conducive to sleeping well at her own place.

  “What’s she doing out there?” Downy asked, turning around in his seat to look out the window. “She could’ve eaten with us.”

  “She has migraines,” Chief Rhodes said. “Fresh air seems to help.”

  That explained the icepack.

  It also explained why she was under a blanket in the s
hade, rather than in the sun.

  I’d read somewhere that sun tended to have an adverse reaction on migraines.

  “Eww,” Memphis said. “You should tell her to look up pressure points on the body. Those always used to help me.”

  “She doesn’t have migraines anymore. I can hit one pressure point perfect…Owww! What’d you do that for?” Downy asked Memphis, rubbing the back of his arm where I’d guessed she’d pinched him.

  She didn’t even flinch from the big man’s glare.

  “Not at the dinner table, you big shit.” Memphis glared.

  I snorted, but nonetheless finished my lunch and stood. “It’s been fun.”

  “You’re leaving already?” Miller asked in surprise.

  Before my accident, I’d been a social butterfly.

  Now, though, not so much.

  I’d rather be in my own company.

  I literally did have somewhere to go, though.

  “I have to get fitted for my new prosthesis. The blade,” I said, finishing up my water and walking into the kitchen.

  A couple of weeks ago, I’d been fitted for the blade, and today would be the first time I’d wear it.

  Dumping my plate into the sink, I rinsed it off and then loaded it into the dishwasher.

  As I was doing so, the backdoor opened.

  I knew it was her without even turning around.

  She smelled.

  Not in a bad way, either.

  That, at least, would make it a lot easier to deal with her. To get her out of my head.

  But no. She had to smell like the goddamn sun in the middle of a rainstorm. The honeysuckles that bloomed wild around the county.

  Jesus.

  Small, nimble fingers emptied the ice pack I’d seen over her eyes earlier into the sink, and she walked to the side partially to toss the pack into a drawer filled with ones just like it.

  “How was it?” she asked softly.

  I put the fork into the dishwasher and closed it before turning to her. “It was good.”

  She nodded, wincing slightly.

  “Good,” she said softly. “I’ll see you later.”

  With that, she went out the garage door, to what I assumed was her car.

  I watched her ass the entire way, too.

  After saying my goodbyes, I walked out the front door and strode across the Chief’s lawn to my truck.

  I had to pass Blake’s car to get there, though, and that’s when I saw her.

  She was sitting in the front seat, crying.

  I shook my head and kept walking.

  I couldn’t make myself get in, however.

  I tried. I really did.

  Valiantly, too.

  But I was a sucker for crying women.

  Just ask my mother and sister-in-laws.

  Turning back, I walked to the car and tapped on her side window.

  “You okay?” I asked warily.

  She turned, rolling down her window, and the tears in her eyes nearly ripped my guts out.

  “Yeah.” She nodded, wiping her tears. “I just got a call that my house was broken into again.”

  She sniffled and wiped her hand across her face, wiping away the tears as best as she could without using a towel.

  My stomach clenched. “Again, how do you know?”

  She held up her phone up and pressed play with her thumb.

  “Blake, this is Janet Bowers with KPD. We’ve received another complaint that your front door was hanging open, and the neighbor suspected that someone was in there. Upon inspection, we found the place ransacked. We’d like you to come down to the station at your earliest convenience so we can file a report. We’ve locked your house back up, but since we were unable to get ahold of you, we’d like you to stop by.”

  Fuck.

  “Get out, let’s go,” I said suddenly, startling her.

  Chapter 9

  Remember, I’m a police officer. This story will need to have dismemberment in it for me to be surprised.

  -Foster to the rookie

  Foster

  When she didn’t move fast enough, I offered her my hand.

  She looked up at me, startled, but nonetheless got out of her car, placing her soft hand inside my rough one.

  My hand engulfed hers as I closed my fingers around it and started hauling her toward my truck.

  It was my pride and joy.

  I’d wanted the truck since I’d been old enough to dream about trucks.

  It was a midnight blue extended cab Dodge diesel with thirty-nine-inch tires and an eight-inch lift.

  It sounded like a large cat purring when it started up and still made me giddy when I first got in.

  The comical part, though, was watching Blake climb in the passenger side.

  In the end, I offered her a lift up.

  My blood started to pump forcefully to parts that I didn’t want it to be in when my hands met the backs of her thighs, but I ignored it and moved around to my side quickly.

  The climb in was different with a prosthesis, but the concept was still the same. I just had to put all my weight on the real leg instead of the prosthesis. Something I’d had to learn to adapt to.

  “Where are we going?” she asked quietly.

  I started the truck, the rumbling purr vibrating my body softly.

  “I have to go get fitted for my blade; but when I’m done, we’re going to the station,” I told her.

  “Your blade? Like a new knife?” she asked worriedly.

  I rolled my eyes, shooting her a peeved glance. “You don’t get measured for a knife, darlin’. ‘The Blade’ is a type of running prosthesis. I’m getting fitted for it today. Actually, I’ve already been fitted. I’m getting it. I just hope it fits. It’s uncomfortable as hell to run in the other one.”

  I pulled into Dr. Morton Stonewell’s office twenty minutes later and was sent straight back.

  “Ahh,” Dr. Stonewell said. “If it isn’t my favorite patient.”

  I grimaced. “There’s no reason to be so snotty.”

  Blake giggled, covering her mouth with her hand to cover up the faux pas.

  Dr. Stonewell winked at Blake and patted the padded bench with his hand. “Hop up here, boy. Get that off, let’s see what this fits like.”

  Dr. Stonewell went into his office, disappearing inside. I sat down, took off both shoes, and then stood up once again to shuck my pants off.

  “Eeek!” Blake said, turning around quickly.

  I chuckled as I pushed them down to my knees, exposing my boxer briefs. Taking a seat on the padded bench, I started to work the rest off my prosthesis.

  No matter how hard I tried, it always turned out to be harder than it should be.

  They got caught on everything on my prosthetic leg.

  “Need help?” she asked softly.

  I glared, and she held her hands up.

  “Geez, it just seems easier to use your hands instead of kicking your leg to get it off,” she grumbled.

  I barely stopped the smile that threatened to overtake my face.

  So freakin’ logical.

  I got them off just as Dr. Stonewell poured out of his office, my new leg in his hand.

  Blake’s eyes widened as she saw it.

  “That looks like a torture device,” she gasped. “What’s so special about it?”

  “The Flex-Foot was designed to store kinetic energy. Almost like a spring does. It’ll allow Foster to do whatever he wants to do. Run, jump, sprint, climb bleachers, pole vault. He can do whatever he wants to with this particular blade. If he can dream it, he can do it,” Dr. Stonewell said animatedly.

  I pressed the button at the base of my fake ankle and pulled the old prosthetic off. Followed by the socks that filled in the prosthetic so I didn’t bottom out in it.

  Finally, off came my sleeve that held the pin on my leg with a sort of suction type sock.

  I made sure to keep an
eye on Blake, taking in her reaction as I did.

  Maybe if I let her see what she’d really get with me, she’d get over whatever I saw in her eyes, lately, when I was around. As if I was the answer to her prayers.

  I wasn’t and she needed to know it.

  “Wow,” Blake said, dropping down to her haunches at my feet. “Can I touch it?”

  She looked genuinely interested, so warily, I nodded. “Sure.”

  It felt weird, having her fingers running over my scar.

  I didn’t have much feeling at the bottom where the scar was, but as she moved her fingers up to the sides, I could feel a lot more of her touch.

  Why I’d get turned on by her rubbing her fingers on my stump, I didn’t know, but I did.

  Which was very awkward since I was currently sitting in my underwear.

  “Does it hurt?” she asked.

  Yes, my dick hurt. It was throbbing with need.

  Moving quickly, I covered my crotch up with my pants and started rambling.

  “It did hurt. Now, not so much unless I start having phantom pains,” I said, quickly, to cover up the thoughts in my head.

  “Alright, boy. Let’s get this on.”

  ***

  An hour later had us walking into the police station, Blake slightly in front of me as we moved.

  “Does it feel like you have kinetic energy stored in your foot?” she whispered loudly.

  I barely contained the urge to snort at her question.

  She was funny, and I found that I didn’t mind having her around as much as I thought I would.

  She didn’t bother me like my brothers. Or my parents. Or my friends.

  I knew they were only concerned for me, but I was okay. I wasn’t going to go into a deep depression, and I wasn’t going to go off and flip a switch because I was missing a part of my body.

  Sure, I was pissed, don’t get me wrong, but I wasn’t stupid.

  I wasn’t happy, per se, but I also wasn’t bitter.

  Mostly.

  And Blake treated me like I was normal. She didn’t react anything like I thought she would.

  In fact, she acted like it wasn’t even that big of a deal. She didn’t flinch at the sight of my stump. She didn’t look at me with pity. In fact, I was just Foster to her, and I liked that.

  A lot.

  “It feels weird. I’ll have to go on a run later to try it out,” I told her. “You wanna go?”