Code 11- KPD SWAT Box Set

by Lani Lynn Vale

  “Seven.”

  “One.”

  That last comment was made by Nico, which had caused David to turn around and see just who, exactly, was in the room with him.

  I gave him a little wave when his eyes landed on me, causing him to glare and turn around so abruptly that his chair rocked.

  The lawyer laid his papers down on the table in front of Berri, and her eyes were dragged there unwillingly.

  Then her eyes widened.

  “What do the papers say?” I asked no one in particular.

  “Do you know what that means, Ms. Aleo?” the detective asked.

  “Just wait for it,” Bennett said. “It’s going to be beautiful.”

  I snorted, but nonetheless ‘waited for it.’

  Berri refused to say anything.

  “Those are divorce papers,” Detective O’Keefe said.

  David snorted, but then froze at the detective’s next words.

  “Divorce papers from Quentin Ortiz,” O’Keefe continued. “Tell me, Ms. Aleo. Why didn’t anyone know you were married to Quentin Ortiz last week when we visited you? Maybe because nobody was supposed to know? Your fiance knows, though, doesn’t he?”

  “I guess, since you’re not going to help out, you can tell me if I get anything wrong. Like I said, your ex-husband was very helpful,” O’Keefe said cheekily. “Mr. Ortiz and you are con artists. Marry separate people, take them for all they’re worth, and move on to the next one. But you stay married to each other while you do it, which is where y’all screwed up.”

  Berri’s eyes went crazy as she tried to look for an escape.

  However, there wasn’t one. O’Keefe had her, and we all knew it.

  “Your husband plea bargained out, tossing you under the bus in exchange for lesser charges,” O’Keefe said. “He was adamant, though, that you screwed up and then, in turn, screwed him over. See, you weren’t supposed to get pregnant. Something you’d done with David Dewitt. And he was mad, but you convinced him this could work in your favor. That you could get more money. Except something… or someone, upset you. And you went back to your ex-husband, Quentin Ortiz, and asked him to do something for you.”

  She finally broke.

  “I went and found them. I wanted what was rightfully mine. I’m the one having the baby. She’s not. So why can’t I have it?” Berri hissed.

  “How’d you know he’d do it?” O’Keefe asked, arms crossing casually across his chest.

  “The newspaper. With her little ‘We’re Heroes Too’ story she got in the paper the day after it happened. I hadn’t realized he was doing that sort of thing. When I leave my exes, I have no contact with them again.”

  “And this time?” O’Keefe asked.

  “That stupid whore of an ex of David’s. She refused to give me the heirloom that was rightfully mine,” she snarled.

  “All of this over a fucking cradle?” I half yelled. “David, you stupid son of a bitch!”

  I tried to launch myself at him, but I wasn’t stopped by Foster or my uncle, but Downy.

  His bowl of popcorn went tumbling out of his lap as he grabbed me around the waist before I could make it to David.

  Once he had me around the waist, he practically tossed me through the air toward Foster, who then caught me and clamped his steely arms tightly around my chest.

  “It’s okay, honey,” he whispered. “He feels horrible. Look at him.”

  Reluctantly, I did, and I didn’t like what I saw.

  He did look horrified.

  He looked broken. Yet, I didn’t care. Not in the least bit.

  I’d lost my father, my best friend, all because David couldn’t keep his stupid cock in his pants.

  “I’m going home,” I whispered brokenly.

  “I’ll come,” Foster said, starting to let me go, but I shook my head.

  “No.” I stopped him when he would’ve followed. “Downy can take me. In fact, I’ll go see Grandpa. We’ll spend some time together. You can come get me when you’re done.”

  With that, I walked out of the door, stopping when my feet hit the popcorn bucket.

  On a whim, I bent down and launched the bucket at David’s head, and the cardboard bounced off before landing unceremoniously on the floor.

  Snickers followed.

  He looked down at his feet, avoiding eye contact, and only serving to make me even madder.

  “Coward,” I muttered as I stormed out of the room, and then quickly walked down the hallway.

  “Slow down, Blake. I’m full. You don’t want me to throw up my popcorn, do you?” Downy teased as he caught up with me.

  I tossed him a look over my shoulder that spoke volumes about everything I was feeling, and he grinned.

  The fucker grinned.

  “You’re horrible. I don’t know how your woman puts up with you,” I sighed, walking out the backdoor and straight to Downy’s truck.

  “Memphis loves me. She puts up with anything as long as I’m happy,” Downy laughed.

  “Whatever. Just take me to my pop’s place,” I ordered sullenly.

  “What about your dog?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “Foster can get Molder. Now just go.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said with a smile in his voice. “Anything for you.”

  It was all fun and games, too… that is until we got to my dad’s house.

  The first thing that made me realize something was wrong was the fact that the garage door wasn’t open.

  Usually at this time of day, my grandfather was out working on his car he had in the garage.

  Yet the garage wasn’t open, and the blinds were pulled.

  Hell, even the blackout curtains were down.

  “Something’s wrong,” I whispered as Downy pulled his truck into the driveway.

  “What?” he asked, putting the truck into reverse and backing out of the driveway.

  He pulled four houses down and stopped in front of Mrs. Peseta’s place.

  “I don’t know. But there’s usually activity going on. My grandfather gets up at six A.M. And doesn’t close the curtains until he’s ready to go to bed. Either there’s something wrong with him, or…I don’t know…something.”

  Downy pulled his phone out and made a call.

  “I need a couple of blue and whites at 222 Sheffield. Come in priority two. Park next to my truck- a white Chevy,” Downy said into his radio.

  Like Foster, he had it under his dash. It must be a cop thing.

  I waited and waited some more for Downy to get out and check it out, but he never did.

  He just watched and listened.

  “You’re not going to go check it out?” I asked finally.

  He glanced at me. “Not yet. I’ll wait until I have someone on you before I go. I’m not leaving you by yourself.”

  “But…”

  He stopped my next argument with just a glance of his eyes.

  “Not going to happen.”

  My heart ached as I looked behind me, wondering if my grandfather was alright.

  God, please let him be okay. I can’t lose him, too.

  Chapter 26

  I know it’s hard to admit that you’re wrong, but I can survive without oral sex…can you?

  -Blake to Foster

  Foster

  Miller and Nico rode with me, while Luke, Michael, and Bennett followed closely behind.

  “Tell me the layout of the house,” Luke asked through the radio.

  We’d switched to a confidential channel, so I felt safe telling them everything I knew.

  “Three bedrooms. One large open living room and kitchen. Laundry room that leads to the garage. Back porch. Two bathrooms. One off the living room, and one in the master,” I informed them. “Grandfather’s room is the very back bedroom on the right. It has an entrance to the outside by a sliding glass door.”

  I finished the last sentence as we took the last turn that led up to Dow
ny’s truck.

  We’d gone the back way so we didn’t have to pass the house, therefore not drawing any undue attention to us as we came.

  When we got out, I grabbed Downy’s bag from the backseat and tossed it in his direction. Which he promptly caught and started to dress in his gear.

  “Did you hear all that, Downy?” Luke asked as we walked up.

  He nodded, turning to acknowledge his best friend and boss. “10-4.”

  “Detective O’Keefe’s right there.” I pointed the unmarked car out to Blake. “Stay with him, and don’t leave him, no matter what you hear. Understand?”

  She nodded, eyes brimming with tears. “Got it.”

  I winked at her, pulled my hood down, and started across the yard behind Luke.

  “Wait!” she yelled, making me stop.

  I turned on a dime and looked at her.

  She ran up to me, gave me a swift kiss on the lips… well, the best she could with a mask covering my face, and started to rush back toward O’Keefe who was just getting out of his car.

  “Be safe!” she ordered over her shoulder.

  “Be safe, big boy!” Downy jeered, imitating Blake’s voice so well that I had to look at him in surprise.

  He laughed and pulled his own mask down before we started to the car.

  “Okay,” Luke said. “Downy, you take your team to the back. The grandfather’s room. My team’ll take the front.”

  I went with Luke since I was on his unofficial team and covered his back as we moved swiftly up the front steps.

  The first thing I saw was the front door propped open.

  My stomach plummeted as Luke pushed it open more.

  The door swung open into the eerie silence of the living room, not making a single sound as it did.

  That’s when I spotted the blood.

  And a lot of it.

  Luke was the first one to enter, dropping down to one knee the second he entered the door.

  Nico went ahead, clearing the room, followed shortly by me, taking his back.

  “Clear.”

  “Clear.”

  Luke and Downy said it at the same time, allowing us both to move.

  My eyes were drawn to the blood trail, a smear of it extending from the front door to the kitchen, and then even farther to the garage.

  I signaled to Luke, who quickly nodded, allowing me to lead the way into the garage.

  I’d never know what shocked me more.

  The fact that the man I’d thought had his blood soaked into the living room floor was actually standing up beating the shit out of Quentin Ortiz, or the fact that Ortiz was sitting on a stool, tied there with duct tape, getting the absolute tar beaten out of him by an eighty-nine-year-old man.

  “Holy fucking shit,” I breathed, lowering my weapon once I’d cleared the room.

  “Hiya,” Grandpa Rhodes crowed. “Caught this little boy here breaking into my house. I’m just having a little fun with him.”

  The old man’s voice sounded frail as he said that, but his movements as he continued to beat Ortiz up was anything but weak.

  “Ummm,” Luke said. “Clear.”

  I looked down, taking in the kiddie pool that was erected underneath the legs of the stool Ortiz was taped down to, then couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled out of my throat.

  “I just…I just…what the fuck is going on?” Downy asked, flabbergasted just as we were by what he was seeing.

  I snorted. “Now can you see why I gave the old goat a ticket? He’s fucking insane… and a badass just like his son.”

  The old man laughed. “Where do you think that boy learned his skills, you dumb ox?”

  He followed up that question with a punch to the gut, followed by a quick uppercut to the jaw.

  “Um, Mr. Rhodes, do you mind if we take him off your hands?” Downy finally asked.

  “Oh! Sure! Just let me…” He got in two last hits. One in the groin, and one straight to the man’s Adam’s apple. “Alrighty, all finished, my boys.”

  He stepped back, grabbed his cane that was leaning up against the project Mustang, and hobbled slowly out of the room.

  We watched him go, stunned and silent, wondering if we’d seen just what we thought we’d seen.

  “Do you…am I…motherfucker. I want to be him when I grow up,” Michael breathed.

  I laughed then, so happy that the old fucker was okay that I could barely see straight.

  “This is Officer Spurlock, badge number 654,” I said into my mic. “Scene is clear. We’ll need a bus.”

  ***

  “Look at your poor hands!” Blake cried to her grandfather for the fifth time.

  We’d had Grandfather Rhodes cleared by medical personnel, then we’d taken him back to his home…even though Blake had flat out refused to leave him at home by himself.

  “Listen, girl. I’m fine. I’m eighty-nine, not twenty. I know how to take care of myself. Get in your godforsaken car and go home. Now,” the old goat growled, practically shoving his granddaughter out the door, then slamming it in her face.

  The lock slid home, and the beeping of the alarm sounded quickly after that. Followed by the slow shuffling steps of him walking away.

  “I can’t…I…what the fuck?” Blake sighed, shaking her head and turning on her heel to stomp to my truck. “What are you waiting for, Christmas?”

  She tossed that lovely statement over her shoulder, making me want to laugh.

  I managed to keep it in, though, following her to the truck, watching her ass sway as I did.

  She was in the passenger seat with the door closed before I was even able to get to her, and I growled in frustration before getting into the driver’s side and starting the truck up.

  “He’ll be okay,” I said soothingly.

  She snorted. “I know that. The old goat is too persistent to die. I love the shit out of him, but sometimes he’s so stubborn and pigheaded.”

  I tossed her a look and stifled the urge to laugh once again. “And you’re not?”

  She shook her head vehemently. “Absolutely not. I’m freakin’ perfect.”

  I drove the three blocks to the apartment building and pulled into a front row parking spot, shutting off the engine the moment I was close enough to the curb.

  “You know…” she hesitated, looking over at me. “There’s no reason for me to stay with you anymore. I’m safe. You’ve caught the bad guys. You could probably take me home… if you wanted.”

  I ignored her idiotic statement, and instead got out, slamming the door behind me.

  I was halfway up the steps to my apartment when her indignant growl of frustration followed me up the stairs.

  “You’re a stubborn...” She climbed the steps, huffing and puffing the whole way. “Infuriating, butthead, annoying… you did not just close that door in my face!”

  I had to laugh when she threw the door open.

  “Welcome, welcome,” the bird crowed. “Molder, you pecker head.”

  Did I mention her bird was annoying?

  And a tattletale?

  I’d made it into the bedroom after letting the dog out and was in bed removing my prosthesis when she finally came in, Molder in her arms.

  She glared at me as she dropped the beast in the bathroom and closed the door behind him.

  “You know what your problem is?” she asked, yanking the shirt off her body.

  Her boobs popped free of her bra with the force of it, and my eyes immediately zeroed in.

  “Hmm?” I asked, licking my lips at the sight.

  Jesus, no control, Spurlock! Get your head in the game!

  “What’s my problem?” I asked.

  She narrowed her eyes at me when I finally bothered to look up.

  “Your problem,” she said, stripping her jeans from her hips. “Is that you never take me seriously. I tell you something, and it goes in one ear and out the other. Is that something I have to l
ook forward to for the rest of my life? Because I don’t think I can handle any more dumb men.”

  My heart skidded to a stop and then started pounding double time.

  “You want to spend the rest of your life with me?” I asked, clarifying.

  “There you go being dumb again,” she snapped, pulling her bra over her head and tossing it to the floor.

  Her breasts bounced, and the day… the fighting... everything, flew out the fucking window.

  All I knew was that I was taking her.

  Right fucking then.

  I leaned forward, snaked my hands around her waist, and practically ripped her panties from her legs.

  Then I leaned back on the bed, jerked her up until she was straddling my face, and started to feast on her pussy.

  Instantly, she was wet for me. So wet that she was practically pouring her essence into my mouth.

  “Mmmm,” I growled against her lower lips.

  I could feel my beard getting wet with her juices and shook my chin to dig my tongue deep inside her.

  “Oh, my God,” she breathed, her thighs clenching my head as I ate her.

  Her hands went to my hair as she started to rock on my face, working herself into a rhythm that would quickly have her barreling toward her orgasm.

  Before she could get too far, though, I quickly switched our positions, flipping her over onto her back and yanking her down the bed in one swift motion.

  I jerkily yanked my cock out of my underwear, lined it up with her entrance, and thrust roughly inside of her.

  I started to move, finding the fact that I was only standing on one leg the least of my worries as her pussy took me up to the hilt.

  The way her sheath surrounded my dick was like fucking magic. Vagina magic that really had all the power in the world.

  Something that could bring me to my knees easily if I let her. And boy did I.

  “Foster,” she breathed, thrusting her hips up.

  Not wanting her to have any leverage or control of the situation at all, I moved until only half of her back was on the bed, the rest of her being supported by my upper body alone.

  Except then I found myself not having leverage myself and fell backward.

  Blake let out a short scream as she fell from the bed with me, both of us landing on the floor in a heap.

  My cock, however, was safe.