Code 11- KPD SWAT Box Set

by Lani Lynn Vale

I reached my hand back and felt around, immediately finding the sticker that I told Beckham not to play with stuck to my ass cheek.

  Ripping it off, I tossed it in the vicinity of the trash and gave another head thunk on the door for good measure.

  I really shouldn’t be surprised. Beckham had a way of making even the simplest things often difficult, challenging and time consuming.

  She was like her father, after all.

  “I’m done,” Beckham announced loudly.

  Flushing, she washed her hands, dried them on the towel hanging next to the sink, and came to my side. Grasping my hand, she said, “We can go back out there now.”

  “You do realize, right, that your daddy is probably already here?” I asked my little mini-me.

  She scrunched up her nose, as if the idea that a party would start without her was a foreign concept that she couldn’t quite grasp.

  Sighing, I opened the door.

  Extremely unsurprised to find Foster standing there.

  His arm was leaning up against the doorway above his head, eyes directed at me.

  I smiled. “Hello.”

  “Daddy! I pooped!” Beckham announced loudly, as only a three-year-old could do.

  “I hear!” He laughed, sounding jovial.

  Once she was out of the bathroom, he stooped, picking Beckham up into his arms.

  I was flabbergasted, yet again, by their similarities.

  It was inevitable that Beckham would have blonde hair, seeing as both Foster and I did.

  But the curls… she got all of those from her daddy.

  They were tight and perfect, just like his. They didn’t frizz out the moment they stepped into the humid Texas air like yours truly.

  Her eyes were all mine, though.

  “Thank you,” Foster said, bringing my attention away from Beckham’s face to his.

  I smiled, then shrugged. “That’s life.”

  He grinned, holding his hand out for me.

  I walked into his arm, burying my face into his muscular chest, inhaling the warm cotton blend and crisp scent of outside on his clothes.

  “You’re not fat from either side,” he started, making me laugh. “And nobody saw the sticker on your ass. I promise.”

  I giggled, allowing my head to fall back so I could look into his eyes. “I love you, Foster, my honey boo boo.”

  He snorted and steered me around until we started back toward the living room where the party was now in full swing.

  Our whole family was there.

  And it was big.

  All of Foster’s extended family was there, as well as all of mine. Then there were the families of the men on Foster’s SWAT team, as well as a few of his buddies from his time in the Navy.

  Our house was filled with people that loved Foster.

  “Daddy, Mommy said Louis is six weeks old today,” Beckham told Foster as we rejoined the party.

  Foster’s eyes lit, and he turned to me with a smile. “Did she now? I didn’t realize that he was six weeks old today.”

  I blushed under Foster’s hot gaze.

  Today would be six weeks exactly, since I’d had our son, Louis.

  Louis was Beckham’s polar opposite.

  Where I’d had a C-section with Beckham, I’d had a natural birth with Louis.

  Where Beckham had colic and didn’t want anything to do with me if Foster was around, Louis was Momma’s little boy.

  “So Momma’s Daddy’s birthday present?” Foster whispered into my ear.

  A smile split my face as I looked up at him with all the love and adoration I felt for him in my eyes. “If that’s what you want, I’ll give it to you.”

  Before he could reply, a barking from upstairs had him sighing and handing over Beckham.

  “I’ll get him,” he said.

  I nodded, taking Beckham to her grandparents, Micah and Sloan.

  “Do you mind hanging on to her for a bit while I go get the food?” I asked.

  Micah was the one to reach for his granddaughter. “Of course. Then Beckham can show paw how to work his new phone. Sound good, pumpkin?”

  I rolled my eyes.

  They spoiled my child.

  The reason he’d had to get a new phone was because he’d given his old one to Beckham.

  I’d tried to refuse, but they’d insisted and I, of course, couldn’t take the phone away from Beckham when she so clearly wanted it.

  Whatever.

  She’d lose it within the month anyway.

  On my way to the kitchen, I passed by Luke who was busy feeding Boris a cracker.

  “Watch your fingers,” I said laughingly.

  He snorted. “I learned my lesson the first time, trust me.”

  He did, too.

  Nearly all of them did.

  It never seemed to fail that they’d stick their fingers in the cage to touch Boris, and he’d turn around and bite the shit out of their fingers. Then he’d laugh, the little bastard.

  We’d had to make a new cage that extended up higher so no little fingers could be accidentally stuck through the cage’s bars.

  I liked Boris, but God help him if he hurt one of Foster’s babies.

  “Oh!” I said once I pushed through the kitchen doors. “Thanks guys!”

  Mercy, Reese, Georgia, Memphis, and Viddy were all in the kitchen setting out the food when I arrived. Doing the very thing that I’d come in there to do.

  “We figured you wouldn’t mind the help. The lobsters are done, too. Your aunt fixed those before she headed out to the party,” Memphis said, pointing to the cooked lobsters laid out along the entire length of the counter.

  “Woo!” I said, pumping my hand. “I hate doing that! Yet, Foster asks for them every year on his birthday, and I can’t ever figure out why.”

  “Because I like the way you squeal when you cook them,” Foster said, kissing the back of my neck.

  I turned and smiled at him. “You’re horrible, you know that?”

  He winked.

  “Where’s Louis?” I asked, noticing that he didn’t have the child that Molder refused to leave alone.

  In fact, Louis and Beckham would forever have a protector in Molder.

  He loved the kids and treated them as if they were his own pups.

  He let us know when they were awake. Let us know when they were sick.

  “Ladies,” Foster said, grabbing me by the hand and pulling me into the office that was built off the kitchen. “If you’ll excuse us for a couple minutes.”

  Startled, I looked behind me, seeing the knowing faces.

  “Foster!” I hissed. “What are you doing?”

  He shut the door and locked it behind him before unbuttoning his pants, all the while corralling me toward the couch that was in the middle of the room.

  He grinned when my legs met the back of the couch and then laughed when I turned my frantic gaze to his.

  “What’s wrong, honey?” he teased.

  I shook my head. “We’re not doing this here. Not with that many people in our house.”

  He grinned. “Oh yeah?”

  When he kissed the base of my neck and tickled his beard along the sensitive skin, I lost the ability to use complex words.

  “Yeah,” I gasped when he started to suck at the base of my ear.

  “I don’t see you saying no,” he observed as he started to lift my shirt and bra over my head.

  “Mmmm,” I said, eyes zeroing in on how it felt to feel his hands running over my breasts.

  He laughed quietly. “So you want me? Here? Now?”

  “Mmmm,” I said again when he pulled one nipple into his mouth and started to suck lightly.

  I gasped, hips jerking in response.

  “Fuck me,” I ordered him.

  His response was to turn me around, lift up my skirt, and bend me over the couch.

  With his cock lined up at my entrance, he pushed inside with a low
growl.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  Kill Shot

  Chapter 1

  Brothers and sisters may fight like they hate each other, but they’ll always have each other’s backs. So watch your face if you say something about one in the other’s hearing.

  -Note to self

  Bennett

  “I can’t fucking believe that that stupid cunt marked my face!” I hissed, staring at my face in the mirror of the exam room.

  “Your face was too pretty anyway. You need to get over it,” my sister said, distractedly, not even bothering to look up from her magazine.

  I turned around and glared at the crazy girl.

  “Why are you even here? How’d you know I was here so fast?” I asked with annoyance.

  I loved my big sister and all, but she really was a shithead. We fought like cats and dogs, even now, with both of us well over the age of eighteen.

  Payton was nearly thirty-two, and I’d just turned twenty-five. And I still couldn’t count the number of times we got into a hitting match each week.

  Something that annoyed our parents and Max, Payton’s husband, to no end.

  Then again, we found it amusing that they didn’t like it, which was probably why we did it so often.

  “Hey, how about we not do this right now?”

  That was Nico, always the voice of reason.

  Nico was what I’d call my best friend, even though he was a little standoffish at times.

  He was on the SWAT team with me and the reason I’d joined the team myself.

  I’d been on the team now for three years and I enjoyed it, most of the time.

  Today, however, wasn’t one of those days.

  Today was a total cluster fuck that I’d like to forget if at all possible.

  However, now I had scratches that started just under my ear and went all the way down my neck and collarbone.

  “You’ll probably get rabies, and they’ll have to put you down like the dirty dog that you are,” my sister said helpfully.

  I threw the bloody compress I was using, to stem the flow of blood oozing from the cuts at her, nailing her in the middle of her breasts.

  “Bennett, you dirty, rotten bastard!” she hissed.

  I grinned evilly at her. “What were you saying?”

  She flipped me off, took the rag at the cleanest portion between two fingers, and threw it toward the trashcan.

  She missed, and it landed on the foot of the nurse who’d just walked in through the door.

  “Hmm,” the nurse said, lifting her foot and kicking it off into the trashcan. “Nice try, at least.”

  I snorted but didn’t say anything.

  The woman was cute. Long wavy brown hair in a ponytail at the top of her head. The blonde and red streaks in her hair, paired with her makeup, as well as her jewelry, practically screamed ‘high maintenance.’

  “Which one of you is Bennett Alvarez?” she asked, scanning the room.

  It could be hard to tell, I was sure. There were five people stuffed into the tiny room, and I was the only one standing. I was fairly sure she would have a hard time figuring out who she was supposed to be taking care of, especially since the scratched part of my face was facing away from her.

  “That would be me,” I said, drawing her attention, and the full force of her gaze.

  It felt like she could see right through me.

  It was almost as if she’d stripped me naked in the ten seconds it took her to take me in.

  Then she offered her hand to me as she walked closer.

  “My name’s Lennox Jane. I’ll be sewing you up today,” she introduced herself.

  I took her tiny hand in mine, and shook it twice, up and down, before dropping it as if she’d burned me.

  Electric shocks had poured into my hand from hers the moment our skin touched, and both of our eyes had widened.

  “Are you a doctor?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “No, I’m a PA, or physician’s assistant. Is that okay?”

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  Was she even old enough to be that? She looked to be twenty-two at most. Didn’t that shit take a lot of time to get accomplished?

  She nodded her own head and then gestured to the bed with her hand. “Have a seat and let me see what’s going on.”

  My sister didn’t bother to move at all, which was why I sat on her.

  “Goddammit, Bennett, you fat fucker,” she growled, pushing at my back with her knees to free her hand.

  Lennox’s eyes narrowed at Payton. “If you’d move off the bed, then he wouldn’t have sat on you.”

  Payton narrowed her eyes at Lennox, but nonetheless moved off the bed and went to her husband.

  Max yanked her down onto his lap and promptly covered her mouth with his hand when she would’ve made a move to say something.

  When I moved my eyes back to the sweet thing in front of me, I was surprised to see her not studying my face, but my hands.

  I looked down, surprised that she’d even seen them over the bloody scratches on my face.

  “Your knuckles might need a little Derma-bond, but other than that they look good. Open and close your hand for me,” she said, sticking her tiny hand in mine. “Good, squeeze.”

  I did, unsure of if she wanted me to really squeeze, or just show her that I could.

  I went with just showing her that I could so I didn’t crush her hands.

  She looked like a crier.

  “Excellent, I don’t see anything other than that wrong. That face of yours, though, will probably need a few stitches. Once the nurse gets them cleaned up, I’ll come and take a look, okay?” she asked, eyes on mine.

  I nodded, trying to figure out just what it was about her that was so different. So intriguing.

  She didn’t give me long to stare, though. She left without another backward glance, and the room stayed silent for a full minute while everyone processed what they were thinking.

  “Did she look like that girl off of House to you?” Payton whispered to her husband.

  House, the TV show.

  Payton was obsessed with that show and the show’s main actor, House.

  I liked it and all, but I was more into action shows. Not ones that required me to actually think.

  When I watched TV, it was to relax, not to try to figure out who killed who, or who had what.

  “Sure as fuck did. Uncannily,” Max rumbled in his deep voice.

  “What’s her name again?” Payton asked.

  “Olivia Wilde,” Michael said, not bothering to look up from his phone.

  “Why are y’all here?” I asked, turning around.

  Before they could answer, an older nurse walked in, jabbering away about needing to clean me up for ‘Nox.’

  Nox. That was a really weird nickname.

  No matter, though. It seemed to fit her. She was short. Probably about the same height as Payton, which was not even five foot.

  It was a spunky name, for a little sprite of a woman.

  “Alright, my boy. This’ll sting a little. Try not to move, though,” the nurse instructed.

  ***

  Lennox

  “Goddammit! That doesn’t sting a little. That burns like a motherfucker!” the big man in room three bellowed.

  I covered my mouth and tried valiantly not to laugh my ass off.

  I didn’t accomplish it, however, if the looks I was getting from the nurses and doctors were anything to go by.

  “Tsk-tsk. Making the big SWAT guy yell like that, Lennox,” Paxton, the other PA, and my best friend, chastised.

  I held up my hands. “I wasn’t the one to hurt him!”

  “No, but you were the one who suggested Donna go in there. You know how she is around big men. Always treating them badly because they remind her of her ex-husband,” Paxton said, raising his brow at me.

  I stuck my tongue out at him.

&nbs
p; “Yeah, I guess I did do that, didn’t I?” I laughed unapologetically.

  “Hey, did you hear why he’s here?” Melissa, a nurse, asked.

  I shook my head. “No, why?”

  Melissa was the woman who would know. She was married to a firefighter who was in the local fire department.

  She knew a lot of stuff that was happening before most.

  “Some crazy lady tried to rob the deli where they were having their weekly SWAT meeting. Bennett, that man in there, was the one to stop her. Except she went fucking batshit the moment he caught her and tried to put her in cuffs,” Melissa explained.

  My brows raised. “What kind of dumbass would rob a restaurant and not look to see who was inside first?”

  “A stupid one,” Melissa said, gesturing two rooms down to a room that was being guarded by two uniformed police officers.

  “Oh, she’s here?” I whispered in excitement.

  Melissa nodded. “Yep.”

  “She’s mine,” I said, standing up, grabbing the chair and moving around the nurse’s station.

  “No, she’s not. She’s mine!” Paxton said, but I was already headed into the room before he could stop me.

  Passing the two officers with a nod of my head, I walked into the room.

  The woman who was cuffed to the bed wasn’t hurt. That much was more than obvious.

  Because if she was ‘hurt’ she wouldn’t be sleeping soundly.

  She’d be in pain.

  Which she most definitely wasn’t.

  “Mrs. Bonillo?” I announced loudly, startling the woman.

  Her eyes that had huge black circles under them, widened in anger, and then immediately dimmed, feigning pain.

  “Oh, my back!” she cried loudly.

  I ignored the fake crying, flipped through the chart and shook my head at what I saw.

  Frequent flier for pain meds. Check.

  How surprising.

  “Can you tell me what that pain feels like, Mrs. Bonillo?” I asked her, walking up to the counter and leaning my butt against it.

  She thought about it for a moment, most likely trying to figure out the best way to say it that would get her the most sympathy.

  “Um, stabbing pain in my upper right back,” she lied.

  “Uh huh,” I said, doodling hearts on the notes page in the chart. “And is it constant or intermittent?”

  “Constant. It goes away but comes back. It never goes away for long, though,” she said, putting a little whine into her voice.