by Ann Grech
Mo’s growl reverberated through the room, the hairs on his back immediately standing up when Colin walked in. “Shhh, Mo,” Chloe whispered near his ears. “It’s okay. He’s friendly.”
Claire and Sheriff Peterson continued their conversation oblivious to Chloe’s hushed conversation with Mohawk.
“As good as can be expected, Colin. Thank you for coming over rather than calling us to the station.” Turning to Sheriff Peterson’s partner, Claire greeted the tall sandy-haired man with striking blue eyes. A shy smile graced her lips. “Hi Deputy Bakos.”
“Claire.” He nodded, shaking her hand before following her in the direction of the sofa. Zane stood and shook their hands before swapping chairs with Cleo, affectionately rubbing her lower back. It always hurt her sitting on the armchairs; Chloe wasn’t surprised that Zane picked up on it and fixed the problem. But that was what he was like with Cleo. It was as if he had this connection with her, knowing exactly what she needed or wanted without her even having to voice it. Looking at the two of them, Chloe would never have guessed that they’d lost contact too, being reunited the night of the explosion.
Sheriff Peterson sat down on the two-seater sofa pulling Claire down next to him, leaving his partner to stand off to the side. Chloe had to bite her lip to stop her smile. Deputy Bakos had the same brooding look as Timmy. What was it with hot guys? Then again, Zane perpetually had a smile on his face. Well, except for today. The laidback fireman looked quietly intense, reflecting the seriousness of the upcoming discussion. Her sisters looked as nervous as she felt. Butterflies fluttered in her tummy until she felt sick, making what little food Chloe had managed to eat today churn. As sheltered as she felt by her parents, Chloe knew that it wasn’t normal for a house to explode the way theirs did. Even the fire was weird. There was a drive-by where bullets were zinging around everywhere, then there was an explosion. There had to be something that triggered it and Chloe knew that didn’t bode well, whatever it was. A case of mistaken identity seemed to explain her father being shot, but why the house too? What had the former tenants done to deserve their house being blown up as well as being shot? Whatever it was, it must have been bad.
The knock on the door broke through the hushed conversations and Chloe’s rampaging mind. It reverberated past her eardrums and into her thoughts, startling Chloe and making her jump off the armchair. She couldn’t seem to quiet her thoughts since the explosion, almost like the ringing in her ears. She’d be lying to herself if she tried to pretend she wasn’t excited by Timmy’s arrival. Butterflies erupted in Chloe’s belly, in exactly the same way that happened whenever he was near. It was almost like his sheer masculinity set off receptors in her body, alerting her to his presence in the way that animals reacted to pheromones. Perhaps that was it; Timmy had the perfect chemical makeup to make her react, almost like beautiful watercolors bringing a blank canvas to life.
Cleo grinned at Chloe as she dashed toward the door. Chloe knew that her older sister wanted to watch how they interacted. Chloe just wanted to see him, to put all the crap that flowed between them earlier today at the studio to rest. The benefit, and sometimes the curse, of having an older sister like Cleo was that there were very few boundaries when it came to their love lives and Cleo’s sex life. She and Cleo were closer in age than she was to Claire, and Cleo wasn’t nearly as buttoned up either. Cleo believed that Chloe couldn’t capture emotion in her art without experiencing every emotion herself: love, hurt and especially desire. So she improvised. Cleo was happy to supplement Chloe’s lack of experience by giving her an in-depth account of those jittery feelings of attraction, the loneliness of losing a lover, the pull of desire and every one of her body’s reactions to a man’s touch. Chloe may not have had much experience, but she did have a little. She was a virgin but she knew what a self-induced orgasm felt like. Curiosity from Cleo’s descriptions had encouraged her to experiment. And what a feeling! She couldn’t imagine how good it would be having another person, someone who she wanted with a fiery passion, touch her until she shattered in his arms.
“Hi, pretty girl. You look beautiful tonight.” Timmy gently lifted the strap from Chloe’s tank back onto her shoulder where it had slipped and smiled at her. She swayed closer to him, feeling the heat of his body as he banded his arms around her and drew her into his embrace. That effervescent feeling Cleo described so well was coursing through Chloe at Timmy’s touch. She couldn’t deny that she was attracted to him even if she wanted to. His voice was husky again when he asked, “How you holding up?”
“So, so. I ate a bit and I laid down for a while.”
“Good. Let’s get this over with, hey? I bought ice cream for you for afterwards.”
“Thank you.” She reached up on her toes and kissed his cheek. As she pulled back, their eyes locked and held, the sexual tension between the two of them crackling. He balled his fists against her back and gritted his teeth, his eyes hardening.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable,” she mumbled, trying to step away from him.
“No, don’t,” he murmured, tightening his grip around her as he breathed deeply, pressing their bodies closer together momentarily. Before she could revel in the feelings he engendered in her, he stepped away, leaving her wanting. It felt so good with his arms around her. Safe from the world, protected and desired. “Come,” he said after clearing his throat. He opened the porch screen and ushered her through.
Timmy watched as she stepped inside, making her way to the freezer to store the ice cream. The damn woman unraveled him completely. She was so innocent and in such a bad place emotionally that he knew he couldn’t take advantage of her. Even so, he wanted her submission like nothing else. He could take away her pain; give her only sensation and pleasure in its place. That wasn’t all though. He couldn’t deny how much he wanted her. How much he wanted to learn everything about her, what made her tick, to care for her, to treasure her. But that wasn’t going to happen. He couldn’t let it. He was almost old enough to be her father, for fuck’s sake. The fourteen-year age gap meant squat to his hormones though; they were raging like a teenager having his first glimpse of a Penthouse magazine. There was no mistaking his attraction to her; there was nothing fatherly about his feelings. Nothing at all. Seeing Chloe in Rake’s arms that afternoon when she’d broken down in the drawing room gnawed at his gut. It wasn’t widely advertised that Rake was gay; he was hardly going to make a move on Chloe. Still, Timmy was overwhelmed by the urge to be the man holding her. From the understanding in Rake’s tone when he’d told Timmy to back away, he’d seen that need clearly in Timmy’s eyes. It had killed him to upset her, but it was the only way to distance himself enough from the beautiful siren; he couldn’t give into his desire to have her. Timmy didn’t have the strength to keep away, so he did the only thing his stubbornness would let him do: He would push her until she’d avoid him. Then he’d heard her distraught cries and he’d flat out panicked. His immediate thought was ‘had something happened last night after she left him, even with Mo there?’
Timmy shook off his thoughts. He couldn’t want her. He had to stay away from Chloe. He was too old for her, his dominant desires too dark. The darkness was a part of him. Those desires were too strong to settle for less. And yet, hearing Chloe say that she wanted him there tonight rocked him to his core. Timmy didn’t need to wait the twenty minutes that he had before leaving. He could have left straight away, but he needed time to ground himself. He had to get some semblance of control back and get rid of his damn perpetual erection so that he could be in Chloe’s vicinity without wanting to carry her, caveman-style, into her bedroom and make her forget everything outside the door.
Mo was waiting patiently for Timmy’s acknowledgement. As soon as Timmy turned to him, the big dog bounded over, launching himself at his master. “Settle, pup.” Timmy chuckled as Mo ran around him in circles, only slowing to get petted.
The rookie, Deputy Van Bakos, held out his hand for Timmy to shake as Chlo
e introduced them and took a hold of Mo’s collar. Captain Taylor had mentioned Bakos to Timmy in one of their clandestine calls. Apparently, he was a good guy, one of the few that Timmy could trust with his true identity. But like every other person in the sheriff’s station, Bakos would hopefully never know that he was working with the Captain to bring down the Ares Fury MC.
“Timmy, good to see you bud.” Zane grinned as they bumped fists.
“You two know each other?” Chloe asked.
“Timmy did all my art. He’s a pro. Cleo said you’d started working at a studio. You two working together?”
“Yeah, Rake and Timmy are training me.”
“Nice!”
“So, thanks for coming, Tim. Perhaps we can get started; we’re on shift. Can’t sit around chatting all night,” Sheriff Peterson sneered. The guy was a dickhead. He thought he was shit hot. A two-minute conversation between the girls and their friends wouldn’t make a difference to the sheriff and his deputy getting back to work, but it would make everyone more comfortable. Instead, his behavior could have alienated them all, but Timmy caught Chloe’s eye roll and Cleo and Zane’s answering grins. Her sass was irrepressible.
Timmy stared hard at him, not backing down until the sheriff turned away. Timmy resisted the temptation to correct the sheriff’s mispronunciation of his name. Barely. At least it was now obvious to the sheriff that Timmy wasn’t intimidated by him, but Timmy knew he needed to dial this pissing match back a notch. It wasn’t helping Chloe, and she was who mattered here, not Timmy’s ego. “Go ahead, Sheriff,” Timmy gritted through clenched teeth. Okay, so he knew he needed to cooperate, but it was easier said than done. He forced himself to sit down, reaching for Mo instead of Chloe.
“Right, so the cause of the fire has been attributed to a gas leak lit by a spark. From your witness statements, it’s fair to say that the spark was from one of the bullets fired from your parents’ attackers. What we don’t know is whether your father intentionally started the leak or whether he was trying to fix it when he was outside. In the circumstances, it seems unlikely that he would start it, but we aren’t ruling it out yet.” As Sheriff Peterson continued, Timmy’s eyes wandered around the room, first to Chloe who was sitting on the armrest of the chair she’d ushered him onto. She was clutching his hand so tightly that for a second, he imagined her fisting his cock with the same tight grip. He enjoyed a bit of pain with his pleasure. His cock, which he’d managed to will down to half-mast, thickened again imagining what they could do together. Damn it, down boy. Squeezing her hand back he took in her profile. She was beautiful – long golden lashes framing the bluest of blue eyes. She had a button nose and full pink lips. He longed to kiss her, but tampered his libido down when he concentrated on the darker circles below her eyes and the strain lines on her face. She was exhausted, not eating properly and generally struggling. But her strength amazed him; she held herself composed, her back straight and her eyes locked on Peterson. Timmy continued looking around. His gaze hit Zane next. Timmy was glad that Zane was friends with the girls. The dude had that ‘boy next door’ Latin hunk look and was always grinning. He may have looked sweet and innocent, but Timmy knew he was always first up for a wild time. He’d get them back in a good mood when they needed it.
Like Chloe, Zane and everyone else’s gazes were locked on Sheriff Peterson. He was reveling in the limelight. He looked like a peacock, strutting around with his tail feathers preened and puffed out in a prideful display. Fucker got off on being the center of attention. Well, everyone’s stares were on Peterson except for the rookie. Bakos was looking at Claire and he looked… hungry. Interesting. The desire evident in his gaze was quickly replaced with anger when he flicked his eyes to Peterson. There was more than met the eye between those two and whatever it was, it didn’t seem good.
“The lab has also sent back its analysis of the residue from the fire. There were a number of chemical compounds that were expected and a number that were surprising. The lab results have concluded that a cocktail of chemicals commonly used in the production of methamphetamine caused the explosion when lit by the fire.”
“What? That’s ridiculous. Are you saying a meth lab was in our basement?” Claire shook her head before she continued. “Momma and Daddy didn’t have a meth lab in their house. The landlord said they could renovate the basement into another den so that Daddy could watch TV down there.”
“The lab confirmed that there are some common compounds but the results are clear. How long had you noticed the bad smell in the house?”
“It started within a week or so of moving in. It was disgusting, made my eyes water, but…this is crazy. It can’t be right. Chloe, tell him,” Cleo pleaded.
“Cleo’s right. There’s no way there was a meth lab in our basement.”
“Cleo, the fire reacted differently than an ordinary household fire. Thinners and paints are flammable but the house exploded. I think there might be something in what Sheriff Peterson is saying. It was intense,” Zane added quietly.
Chloe looked at Timmy, her eyes wide. It wasn’t a surprise to Timmy at all. Hell, he’d mentioned the smell to the Captain a few days earlier. Timmy squeezed her hand tighter and kept his gaze steady, willing strength to her while their eyes were locked. He fought the urge to pull her into his lap and kiss her until the pain left her tortured gaze.
Claire was adamant. “Daddy hated drugs. He knew what damage they can do to people, to children. He’s comforted me before when I’ve treated or lost babies whose mothers were addicts. He wouldn’t do this. And Momma was even more against drugs than he was. This isn’t possible. There has to be another explanation.”
“Your parents would have known how to make meth though, wouldn’t they? They were chemists.”
“They dispensed prescription drugs, not cooked meth in our basement. I won’t believe it. No. Not for a minute,” Cleo shouted as she stormed out of the room. Zane followed her quickly and closed the door to her bedroom as she yelled at him.
“I’ll get her a glass of water,” Claire said.
“No don’t. Let her get it out,” Bakos said. “Why don’t I put the kettle on? You and Chloe look like you could do with a cup of tea.”
* * * *
Chloe got up and walked over to the open window, staring out of it. The flick of a lighter and the flare of a cigarette being lit captured her gaze momentarily.
There was no way what Sheriff Peterson was saying was true. It couldn’t be. Their parents didn’t make drugs. They were good people. Her momma’s favorite pastime was baking. Her daddy loved to play card games on rainy days. They’d taught them good morals, to do the right thing by people, to care and love. Not to cook and sell drugs. Her parents had mortgaged their house to the point of pain to refit their pharmacy right on the cusp of the GFC and had lost nearly everything when the mall they were in suddenly closed. Before they died, her parents had started working in the local pharmacy in Rock Springs. Chloe and her two older sisters had agreed to join them in the little town to pool their resources together and help get them out of debt. It was the least the sisters could do; their parents had worked hard all their lives to give the three of them everything they could, including putting all of them through college.
She felt Timmy standing behind her before he reached out to touch Chloe. But his comforting grip on her bare arms still startled her. He ran his calloused hands up and down them, chasing away the cold that had permeated right down to her bones. Her momma’s smile in her mind’s eye was replaced with the two of them bent over a rickety old table in the basement measuring God knows what into beakers and creating the drug that was responsible for so much pain and suffering in the world. How could it be true? What does it mean for us? Could everything we thought about Momma and Daddy be wrong? Even in her grief, one question kept circling around in her head. Why? Sure, her parents had a bit of debt from the pharmacy, but it was manageable with help from Chloe and her sisters. She knew that the fact they’d never own their own
home again had upset their momma. Still, the cottage her parents were renting was cute and felt like home even after only a short time there. The girls were helping out to set them up for their future. What more could they need? Risking jail time to get a few extra dollars in the bank didn’t make a lick of sense.
“Chloe, look at me,” Timmy ordered softly, the authority in his voice causing her head to snap to face him. He turned her the rest of the way around so they were pressed chest to chest and cupped her face with both his hands. “I know it doesn’t make sense now but there’s more here than any of us can see yet. Your parents may or may not have been into the things Sheriff Peterson said, but we can’t forget they were the victims here. We don’t know anything more than the marshal’s preliminary results. If they did have a lab set up, we don’t know why. You need to focus on the good things you remember about them; who they were to you. Tune out everything else. Okay?”
“I don’t know if I can,” she whispered.
Timmy leaned down and rested his forehead against hers. Their conversation was barely audible even between the two of them, but that was exactly what Chloe needed; a moment of privacy with him in a room that seemed to be bustling with activity. “You have to. It’ll tear you up otherwise. You’re strong, you can do it.”
“Is that how you got over your brother?”
Timmy’s voice dropped even lower when he answered. “I don’t think I’ll ever be over his death. But I choose to remember the kid who used to tag along at every chance he got, the one who I played catch with when we wanted to be pro-baseball players and the one who I had water fights with at our house growing up. Not the drug dealer and not the violent man he became.”
* * * *
Chloe nodded and rested her head on his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his waist. Timmy’s arms instinctively hugged her close as he gently kissed the top of her head. He was stunned by his admission. He’d never, ever told anyone about what he knew of his brother’s crimes. Only Captain Taylor and the two detectives investigating his brother’s death knew anything. His parents had seen to it that that little gem was kept a deep dark family secret which suited Timmy just fine. He didn’t stop his brother from joining the MC and couldn’t stop Beau from turning into the man he’d become. Timmy had failed him. He took full responsibility for his brother’s murder.