Damage: The Men of Law (The Men of Law Series Book 2)

by Casey Clipper

  “I can’t.” The pain in his response he couldn’t hide.

  “I heard what you told her,” Gale admitted.

  His heart plummeted to his stomach.

  “You kissed a woman. Who is she?” There was zero judgment or accusation in her question.

  “She’s a victim of a crime,” he said. With that statement, it registered how wrong it was for him to even consider becoming involved with her.

  “Is she all right?” Gale asked concerned.

  “To a point,” Dean said numbly. “She’s got a long road of physical, emotional and mental recovery.”

  Gale went quiet for a long moment, brushing a few leaves that had fallen from nearby trees away from the area surrounding Erin’s tombstone. “You should bring her to Christmas Eve dinner.”

  Dean wasn’t quite sure he heard her right. “What?”

  He hadn’t been to his in-laws for a holiday in five years, since Erin died.

  “We’d love to have you,” she said, her tone full of hope.

  “I’m not in a relationship with her, Gale. It was a mistake to kiss her. Unprofessional.” God, if Josie wanted to file a complaint against him, there was absolutely nothing he could say to defend himself.

  Gale scoffed. “As if you have always been the epitome of law enforcement professionalism.”

  His mouth dropped open. His mother-in-law laughed lightly, placing a hand on his shoulder, which caused Dean to chuckle.

  “Consider it. At the very least, come by yourself to see everyone,” she said.

  “I’ll think about it.” Because what else would he have planned except to get piss ass drunk and pass out, hoping to bypass the holiday season all together.

  16

  Josie lumbered through the front door of her mother’s house in a daze. That kiss from Dean rocked her. Not that it had been full of passion or even resembled anything close to what two people might discover in a connection. It was the fact that for the first time in her life, she found herself so enraptured by a man, that she lost sight she had absolutely no business lip-locking with the detective who was assigned to her case.

  She hung her keys on the rack to her left and shrugged out of her jacket. The house was silent, the soft lighting from the lamps creating a warm atmosphere in her mother’s home. Josie climbed the steps to the spare bedroom. She stopped at her mom’s open bedroom door and knocked.

  Her mother looked up from the book she was reading, taking off her reading glasses. “Hi, honey. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.”

  Her mom raised a penciled brow. “Are you sure?”

  “No.”

  Her mom swung her legs over the edge of the bed and patted the spot next to her. Josie went to her mom’s side, plopped down and laid back like she’d done as a teen countless times.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “I kissed Detective Rooney,” she said, noting the admission didn’t quite scare her the way she thought it should.

  “I see.”

  “I don’t.”

  “He’s a nice man, Josie.”

  “He is. He took me to dinner, nothing fancy, this evening when I went to apologize to him for being a bitch.” Josie hadn’t planned on anything more than throwing herself on her sword. And certainly didn’t think she’d end up in the embrace of the hunk of a man.

  “He’s good-looking.”

  Josie’s gaze darted to her mother. “Yeah.”

  She couldn’t deny that. And when he’d wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and held her in place, his power was evident. Though she didn’t fear him. She was aware, deep down, he’d protect her, never harm her. She had enjoyed the sensation of his arms around her.

  “Josie, are you okay?”

  “No,” she said, her voice cracking, struggling to sit up. It was the first time she admitted to anyone she was far from being all right.

  Her mom’s arms were suddenly around her as Josie gave way to the tears, fear, and overall distraught that her life had become. She hid her face in her hands, not wanting her mom’s affection. Not wanting to be comforted. She just wanted to be normal. To not have nightmares. To be able to move suddenly without a bolt of pain shooting up her body. She wanted to sleep peacefully, in her own bed. She wanted to be able to fall for a man who wasn’t investigating the attempt on her life.

  “He’s really nice, Mom. But there’s no way I could possibly think of having any type of relationship with anyone.”

  “You will,” her mom said, patting her knee. “You will.”

  “I wasn’t exactly approachable or in the market before…” She couldn’t even voice what she’d been through. Another topic to add to her list with the psychologist.

  “You just haven’t found the right man, sweetheart.” Her mom pushed Josie’s hair off her forehead. “You will. Someday.”

  She didn’t know about that. Her luck with men wasn’t exactly stellar. At least not with men who weren’t easily intimidated by a successful business owner who had her shit together. Add in the independent streak and she was screwed in finding a loving relationship.

  “I think it’s natural to feel something for Mr. Rooney. Why wouldn’t you?” her mom said kindly. “He’s trying to find the man who hurt you.”

  True. Except were her feelings for the detective derived from a need to absorb his natural protective instincts as a law enforcement officer? Or did they stem from something more visceral?

  “When is your next appointment with the therapist?”

  “The day after tomorrow.”

  “How many times a week are you going?”

  “Right now, three.” She talked extensively to the woman and they had both agreed starting off with three or more sessions a week might be beneficial. Especially because something minute could trigger a PTSD reaction. And wasn’t it great that she found out she was officially diagnosed with PTSD after her panic attack in Dean’s car.

  “I’m going to move back home.” Might as well drop the bomb.

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea right now.” Worry lines bracketed her mom’s down-turned mouth.

  “It’s too stressful here,” she said, wiping her tear-streaked face. “David and Harry are at each other’s throats constantly. They’re both excessively worried about me. It’ll take an enormous burden off you and the twins.”

  “I’m more worried about you than your brothers.”

  “I realize that, but trust me on this one.” She needed to attempt to return to her house and get back to her regular routine. It was going to take some time, as her psychologist matter-of-factly explained. But eventually this step would need to take place. She was determined to work on this goal sooner rather than later.

  “At least wait until after the holidays.”

  The pleading look in her mom’s eyes guilted her into conceding. “Okay.”

  But Josie was going to get her butt into gear to get into the right frame of mind to get back to the life she’d worked so hard to create. She refused to allow any man to take away what she’d built.

  17

  Dean strolled through the Campbell home front door without knocking. He didn’t have to. Christmas afternoon and he decided to take his best friend up on the offer to spend the day with him, his wife, and Jason’s parents, and Roy.

  After attending his in-law’s holiday gathering last evening, there was no possible way he could spend the day alone. His nostalgia for the family unit on Christmas became too overwhelming. Children running around, laughter and love abound. They were thrilled to see him, making him a part of the family despite the hole left by Erin. His mother-in-law gave him a new jacket, making him choke up at the thoughtful gift. He enjoyed their company as much as he could. Carols and gifts and reminiscing tore at his soul, missing Erin during the festivities, as well as wondering what a certain other woman was doing on her holiday. It scared the shit out of him.

  “Dean.” Mrs. Campbell rushed him, an apron around her slim waist and sportin
g an enormous smile.

  He leaned down and gave her a kiss on the cheek and handed her a bottle of red wine. “For you.”

  “Perfect,” she said, reading the label.

  Jason stood from the sofa and greeted him with a manly slap on the back. “Merry Christmas, man.”

  Dean grunted.

  Hannah waltzed down the stairs, dressed in a red sheath dress that showed off her amazing figure. “Merry Christmas, Dean.”

  He grinned and a wicked plan to harass his best friend came to fruition. “Merry Christmas, gorgeous.”

  He grabbed her around the waist, bent her backward, and gave her a sound kiss on the lips.

  “Fucker, that’s my wife.” Jason punched him in the kidneys.

  Dean barely righted her before his body wanted to collapse on itself, the asshole.

  Hannah, the devilish gem, laughed and bounced into her husband’s arms. Roy came down the steps dressed in a pair of khakis and a button-down navy blue shirt.

  “Roy, honey, would you please help me set the table?” Mrs. Campbell asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Roy followed, smiling from ear to ear. It was the first time he'd seen the young man display his joy.

  Dean’s shock must have registered because Jason laughed.

  “He loves my mom and she’s in family heaven. She’s so giddy about having all these people around to celebrate Christmas, she’s about bursting from the seams.” Jason wrapped his arm around his wife’s waist and pulled her into his body. He jerked his head to the dining room. “Come on, let’s watch Dad fuss over the ham.”

  Dean set his bag of gifts next to the obnoxiously oversized tree. Once he’d made the decision to attend his in-law’s party, he couldn’t show up empty handed. So on Christmas Eve he spent hours gift shopping. It sucked. Erin used to handle the present buying and giving.

  He followed his best friend and his wife to the dining room, noting the house looked as if the holiday had exploded over every surface in the home. Green garland with white lights hung from doorways and down the stair banister, penguin figurines littered every surface, silver balls hung from the ceiling lights, an animatronics Santa stood in the corner, Christmas music played on the television, and candles that smelled like sugar cookies glowed throughout the interior of the home. “Who did all this?”

  Jason went to the fridge and pulled out a couple beers, handing one to him. “Mom. She wanted Hannah and Roy to have an appropriate holiday season. This was her project. Dad and I couldn’t contain her. Not that Hannah helped the situation. She encouraged the woman.”

  Dean snorted, taking a swig of his beer, and went to say hello to Mr. Campbell. The former officer greeted him with a big smile and nod. He must have been on cloud nine because his wife was ecstatic. That man’s emotions ran off his wife’s happiness. When Beverly Campbell was happy, then all was right in his world. Dean vividly remembered those days when Erin was alive.

  “Rooney.” Mr. Campbell shook his hand.

  “Mr. Campbell.”

  “Grill master,” Mr. Campbell corrected.

  Dean spat out the sip of beer he took and looked at Hannah. “You’ve created a monster.”

  She grinned. “I have no idea what you’re referring to.”

  “All right, everyone out of the kitchen. You’re in my way,” the grill master barked.

  Jason motioned to the dining room. “I have some info for you.”

  “What’s up?” They slid into their assigned seats around the long table while Roy dutifully placed fine china and wine glasses at each setting.

  “I’ve followed our man Steve for the past couple days.”

  “Nick got it approved?” That was a surprise, considering his partner hadn’t said a word.

  “Yeah.” Hannah leaned into Jason’s body and closed her eyes. “You okay, baby?” Jason asked, kissing the top of her head.

  “Just tired and nauseous.”

  “Do you need to lay down?” Jason asked.

  “No, I’ll be fine.” She took Jason’s right hand and placed it over her flat stomach.

  Dean couldn’t watch the two love birds. He instead studied the green garland that hung over the doorway, wondering who weaved the red ribbon between the branches. A much better focus than the pure jealousy of what his best friend had that he’d lost.

  “The man hasn’t done anything or gone anywhere out of the norm,” Jason said. “He’s the model citizen.” His tone mocked the man who’d originally found Josie.

  Dean turned back to him. “What does that mean?”

  “There’s a difference between appearing the model citizen and actually being the model citizen. Your guy is aware he might be being watched. He’s always scanning his surroundings. He’s always smiling, clearly a mask.” Jason grabbed his beer and took a long swallow.

  He didn’t know what to think about their persons of interest. All three were too obvious. But wasn’t that usually the case? This wasn’t a mystery novel where they had to dig deep to find some unknown killer that would pop out of nowhere. Like the gardener or creepy neighbor that had a brief cameo early in the novel. Their attempted murderer had to be in plain sight and waiting to strike again. Because the crime itself was too up close and personal.

  “I’ve cyber followed Harry, her brother.” Roy set the bottle of red wine in the center of the table. “He’s still spending money as if he’s printing it in his bedroom. He’s started dipping into his twin’s account. Obviously David Conley doesn’t know. Though he should be getting a heads up soon. Harry just withdrew a grand. David has an alert on his account for anything greater than a two hundred dollar withdraw.”

  “You were able to find this out?” Dean asked, surprised. He knew Roy was a good hacker but hadn’t been quite aware of how excellent he was at the task. “What kind of account does he have?”

  “A savings account that he doesn’t touch,” Roy answered.

  “Then why the alert?” Hannah asked.

  “It automatically comes with the account. It’s a new feature his bank offers. He took advantage of it.” Roy sat down next to Dean.

  “I also searched the woman who works with Josie. She’s in a financial pinch as too, nothing compared to the brother, but not well off. She’s tried to get business loans to open her own salon over the past ten years, unsuccessfully,” Roy said.

  “Interesting,” Jason mused. “Anyone else at the shop throw out a red flag?”

  “At first, one of her employees, Marc. We’ve looked into him and he seems straight forward,” Dean answered.

  Roy’s brows slid together. “You mean the masseur?”

  “Yep.”

  Roy snorted. “He’s anything but straight forward. He’s a scam artist.”

  “What?” Nothing they had looked at on the surface suggested such a thing. This was what happened when a unit was understaffed like they currently had been. Important information slipped through the cracks.

  “Yeah, he pursues rich older women. Gets them to buy him lovely toys, pad his bank accounts, and then moves on. Normally they’re married women.” Roy lifted a shoulder negligently. “Maybe he’s going after Josie.”

  “He’s gay.”

  Roy laughed. “No, he’s not.”

  “How the hell did you find this out?” Dean asked, furious. Damn it. If this Marc turned out to be exactly who Roy said he was, he was going to throttle the man for lying out his ass and Nick for dropping the ball on investigating the backgrounds of the employees.

  “His Facebook account. He has two. Both are fronts. One is the Marc that you were introduced to, the man who fronts that he’s gay. And the one who’s perfectly hetero and goes after women who’ll support his love for the finer things in life.” Roy poured himself a glass of wine. “Though that doesn’t necessarily make him a suspect.”

  “But it makes him non-credible,” Jason said, pointing the tip of his beer at Dean.

  Fucking hell. Someone else they had to look into deeper, if what Roy suggested was true. Not
only were the brother, the female employee, and the boyfriend suspects, now they had this guy, too? Holy hell, suspects were crawling out of the woodwork like cockroaches.

  “When are you going to follow the brother again?” Dean asked. They needed firm evidence. Hell, they needed a direction.

  “Tomorrow. I’m going to follow him and Dad is going to follow Steve.” Jason rubbed his hand in small, soothing circles over Hannah’s belly.

  Dean zeroed in on the motion, eyes glued to her stomach. “You got your Dad to help?”

  “Yep, he was more than happy to,” Jason said, kissing Hannah’s forehead.

  Dean watched the slow path Jason’s hand made. A memory slamming home. Him lying in bed with Erin, her sleep shirt pulled up and him lathering cocoa butter lotion all over her swollen belly. She’d been so concerned about stretch marks.

  “Dean?” Dean slowly looked up at Bev, holding a platter of ham, her frown full of worry.

  Hot tears stung his eyes. “I miss her.”

  The room went still, silence descending upon the holiday scene. The pity washing over Bev was palpable. Roy’s head hung as he toyed with his plate. Dean couldn’t even make eye contact with his best friend.

  He was putting a damper on what should have been pure holiday enjoyment. But he couldn’t help how deeply his heart ached. How it pained him to watch the couple across the table. How an emptiness ate at his soul every day of his life. Jason and Hannah reminded him too much of his happy life with Erin.

  Mrs. Campbell set the dish down, gracefully sliding into the chair next to him, taking his hand into his. “I’m sure you do. And I’m sure the holidays and being here with your best friend, whose wife is expecting is torture.”

  A choking noise bubbled up from his throat.

  “But I am certain that your Erin is in a place where there is only peace and love. The harsh reality of this world never invading hers.”