Gridlocked (Bounty County Series Book 3)

by Maren Lee

  Douchiest band ever. No. As if she even needed another reason not to go out with this creep.

  “Oh. Um. No, thank you. I have a date tonight. With my boyfriend.” A little white lie in this instance never hurt anyone. Besides, she sort of did. Wesson did say he’d stop by after he was off shift. Was he her boyfriend? Not yet. But it was looking as though it might get that way soon.

  “Gonna be a killer show. I’ve seen them four times already. Ditch your boyfriend, hot stuff. Come on,” he gave her a sleazy smile.

  Gross. Old balls. Nickelback. Molly tried to hide her disgust but she could feel her brow furrowing and couldn't hold back her glare.

  Him calling her ‘hot stuff’ made her feel ill. Top that off with his love for Chad Kroeger. Ugh. It was even worse.

  “Sorry. I can't. I hope you find someone to use your extra ticket.” He shrugged and turned to walk out. A thought popped into Molly’s head. “Hey, Warden Adler, question for you. Why have I never seen a Randy Duschert in here? I heard he’s getting paroled this week.”

  “Duschert? He’s a model inmate, that’s why. Has been my eyes and ears for five years. Quiet. Well behaved. Works in the library. Goes to Bible study once a week. Has ratted out more inmates for contraband than any other prisoner I’ve ever had in my custody. Good guy. No need for an eval.”

  Molly wasn’t so sure. The perfect behavior sounded like a manipulation tactic of a sociopath to her, but she figured she’d just leave that alone. There wasn't enough time in the day to even begin to dive into that with Chuck Adler.

  “I thought Montana's DOC policy required a psych eval for all inmates before being released?”

  “Well, that's what you get for thinking. You should spend more time on your- uh. Nevermind, I won't finish that sentence.”

  “I would agree with you, don't finish that sentence Warden.” Molly sat down at her makeshift table desk. “Thanks for stopping by, Mr. Adler. I need to get to work now.”

  He passed her his card across her desk. “My cell phone number is on the back. You call me if you change your mind about the concert, sweetheart.” He winked.

  I will never change my mind about you or about Nickelback, you narcissistic jerk. Molly gave a polite smile and he left.

  She looked at the clock. 9 am. Here we go.

  ➰

  A little over four hours later, Molly walked out the MSP front door and into the long chain link tunnel toward the parking lot. Razor wire lined the top. The yard was to her right. She could feel the burn of the inmates’ eyes on her. They all stopped what they were doing to watch her leave. Instead of looking at them, she kept her eyes straight ahead. She was glad she did, because Wesson and Ryan were walking toward her with a new inmate.

  Wesson in uniform. Molly was pretty sure she was drooling. “Hey, guys,” she greeted them, innocuously, stopping in the tunnel.

  “Doctor Mooney,” Wesson smiled. “Fancy meeting you here. Wait in the parking lot? Should be done in five minutes.”

  The inmate looked at Molly and then back at Wesson. “You flirtin’, Soup?” he asked.

  “Mind your own business, Jones,” Wesson grunted out.

  “I’ll wait. Hi, Ryan. Good to see you,” she smiled as she walked away.

  “Good to see you too, Doc. See you in a few.”

  Molly got to the end of the tunnel and hit the button. After a few seconds, it swung open and she was back in the land of the free. She made sure the gate latched behind her and then made her way to her car. Wesson’s patrol vehicle was parked next to hers. Her stomach fluttered with excitement.

  She took a few minutes to organize her files in the bankers box she kept in the hatch of her black Ford Escape, and then made her way to the driver’s side to reapply her deodorant and freshen up her hair and makeup. It was hot, but it wasn’t too hot, so she rolled down her windows and waited. She didn’t have to wait long.

  “Hey, babe,” Wesson greeted her. He leaned in the window and kissed her cheek.

  “Hey yourself. We still on for lunch?”

  “Yep. Ryan here has something he’s gotta do in Billings anyway, so it’s perfect, really,” he grinned. “Can I stitch a ride with you while he goes and does his thing?”

  She grinned. “Of course.”

  “Three o’clock good?” he asked Ryan.

  “Yep. You two kids be good now. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” he winked.

  “Thanks, Gramps. We’ll touch face then.”

  Touch face? Maybe he means ‘touch base?’ Whatever, Molly. Not the biggest problem in that ‘goodbye’ to Ryan. Molly smacked him on the arm. “Gramps?! Ryan isn’t that much older than me! Take it back, Wesson,” she laughed. She suddenly realized that she didn’t know how old Wesson was! She knew he grew up in Imminence, but she didn’t remember him from elementary school. She assumed they were the same age, but she’d never flat out asked him. Oh god, what if he’s still in his twenties?! Just leave it, Molly.

  “Ryan is like 52 years and five months old. You aren’t even close to his age,” he shook his head.

  “Ryan is not that old,” Molly smirked. Okay, so Wesson isn’t good with birthdays.

  “Whatever,” Wesson replied. “You want me to drive?” he asked, changing the subject.

  “Nope. Hop in. I know where we’re going, hot stuff.”

  Wesson grinned and then rounded the car. He hopped in the passenger side and pulled the seatbelt across his broad chest. Molly put her car in drive and pulled out of the parking lot.

  “So, the Warden asked me out today.” Why are you leading with that, Molly?!

  “I hope you fucking said no.” Whoa. Wesson was clearly mad.

  “Well, yeah. He asked me to a Nickelback concert. What else could I have said?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, maybe ‘I’m seeing someone, Asswipe Adler? Go wipe your ass face somewhere else.’”

  Molly laughed and then cringed. “I sort of told him that I have a boyfriend.” She waited for him to deny it.

  “Good. As you should have.”

  “Good?”

  “Yeah. Good.”

  “Is that what this is, Wesson?”

  “I don’t know what labels are appropriate once a person hits their thirties, but yeah, I guess I’m happy you told him that I’m your boyfriend.”

  Oh thank god, he’s not still in his twenties.

  “I didn’t tell him that you’re my boyfriend. I just said I had plans tonight with my boyfriend.”

  “You do have plans tonight with your boyfriend.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah,” he reached over and grabbed her right hand.

  “How old are you, Wess?” she asked.

  “Thirty-two. You?”

  “Thirty-three.” Phew.

  “Oh yeah. My mountain lion. Hot.” He winked. Molly laughed.

  “Don’t you mean cougar?” she asked.

  “Same thing.”

  Well, he’s not wrong there. “Do you think this is moving too fast, Wesson?”

  “No.” He moved his hand down and rubbed her thigh, “I would say we're going as slow as a fish in water.”

  How on earth is this making me so hot?

  “Well, okay then.”

  “Okay.” He smiled at her. “First things first, though. Lunch. I need it in and around my mouth.”

  “I know what I want in and around my mouth,” Molly replied. Oh crap. She couldn't believe she just let the words roll right out of her mouth.

  “My god, woman. My balls ache more than they ever have from all these random boners you give me, then you go and say shit like that? I go instantly hard in these tight, unforgiving pants,” he gestured to his groin. “Molly, I want to be on you and inside you, but we've got to get through these dates before I can give this to you, babe. Don't make it harder than it has to be.” He squeezed her thigh.

  “Wess, I didn't mean to. I promise. It just slipped out.”

&nb
sp; “There ya go again!”

  “What? What did I say?” Molly was confused

  “No sexy words!”

  “I have no idea what you are talking about, Wess.” She really didn’t. What on earth did I say?

  “It ‘slipped out’,” he air quoted. “Any euthanasia for sex talk cannot be used.”

  Molly smirked. She assumed he meant euphemisms.

  “Okay, that might be pretty hard-”

  “Bup! No euthanasia.” Wesson held up his hand.

  “Okay.” Molly was dying inside with laughter. He was adorable. Maybe she could make the ‘no euthanasia’ rule another fun one to break.

  ➰

  The prison was outside Billings city limits, away from any residential area, but it didn’t take long to make it back to civilization and to the restaurant. She was giddy to be on their first official date. The food was absolutely delicious.

  “So ‘Soup,’ huh? What’s that about?” She was curious about what the inmate had called Wesson when he’d been accused of flirting.

  Wesson chuckled. “My last name is Campbell,” he shrugged. “Everyone gets nicknames from the inmates. Mine just happens to be ‘Soup.’”

  Molly laughed. “That’s pretty clever. I don’t think I have a nickname from the inmates, though.”

  “Yeah you do.”

  “I do?”

  “Yep.”

  “What is it?” Molly was worried.

  “Ahhhh, fuck. I am not going to be the one to tell you, Molly. Ask Jake.”

  Oh, great. It must be bad.

  “Wesson. Tell. Me.” Her voice was firm.

  “God damn it,” he cursed and then paused. “They call you Dr. Tittyfuck.”

  Molly looked at him, confused. “What does that mean?” It sounds crude.

  “You don’t know what a tittyfuck is?” he asked, baffled.

  “No? Should I?” Is this common lingo or something?

  “Oh, good night, woman.” Wesson let out a deep breath. “Well, it’ll probably make more sense as a show-and-tell. I’ll have to just take one for the team. In three dates.”

  Molly turned red from head to toe. “It’s two more dates now. You can’t just explain it to me beforehand?” She could guess what it was, but wanted to hear it from Wesson before making that assumption.

  “Gah.” Wesson picked up the napkin on his plate that he had practically licked clean and covered his face. “It’s when the guy lubes up your tits and pushes his dick in between them.”

  Oh. So just what it sounds like, then. Molly didn’t say a word.

  Wesson moved the napkin from his face and sheepishly looked at her. “It’s really only an option with ladies with big tits,” he gestured at her chest.

  “Wow. That’s...that’s horrifying and also really naughty.” She gave a small smile. She was embarrassed that it was her nickname, but more than turned on by Wesson’s description. She crossed her legs and pushed her plate away from her.

  “You made me tell you! And dammit! Can we go five minutes without talking about sex? You’ve made my dick hard. Yet again. It’s gonna fall off before we get through three dates.”

  Wesson placed his hand on his crotch. Molly smiled across the table. “We just got through the first date, but I would argue this is date number three. So if you want to come over tonight before your,” she smiled and lowered her voice to a whisper, “penis falls off, then I’m game.” Molly was feeling more and more confident and bold around Wesson. She was loving teasing him.

  “Ugh. Molly. This is date one. You’re killing me, woman.” Wesson shook his head and then looked down at his phone. “Ryan is back. You ready to head out?”

  Dang.

  “Yep. Need to get back to the office anyway. Thank you for lunch. Thank you for bringing me here. I loved it.” Molly started to get up.

  “I need a second before I can stand up.” He closed his eyes and started whispering, “Grandma, grandma, grandma.”

  Molly smirked.

  He opened his eyes. “Okay, I'm good. Let’s get outta here.”

  Chapter 8

  Wesson took his sweet time kissing Molly goodbye. Her lips were like a candy cane at Christmas time. I love Christmas. Fucking delicious.

  He slammed the door to the patrol car. “Man, I sure hate to leave her, but damn I love to watch her walk away.”

  “Yeah, she does look pretty good from behind,” Ryan whistled.

  “No! Absolutely not!” Wesson covered Ryan's eyes with his hand. “You can't look at my lady.”

  “All right, all right, Campbell! I’ll look away,” he pulled Wesson’s hand away from his eyes. “No need to go all caveman on me, bro. Your territory is clearly marked.”

  “You're damn right it is,” Wesson smirked. “Speaking of marked territory, why does my patrol car smell like there was a jazzercise class at an old folks home in it?” He sniffed. “What the fuck did you do on your lunch break?”

  It smells like sex in here. What the fuck, Ryan? Wesson couldn’t believe it.

  Ryan went beet red with what Wesson assumed was embarrassment. “I uh-, went to the gym, didn't have time to shower,” he replied.

  No fucking way.

  “You went to the gym and didn't shower after? That's nasty old man!”

  “Fuck you, Campbell. I don't smell that bad.”

  No, you smell like sex.

  “You don't smell good, either. Don't you keep some fucking deodorant in your gym bag?”

  “Of course,” Ryan snapped.

  “Well, why didn't you use it?” Wesson threw his hands up dramatically.

  “Because I forgot my gym bag. I mean-” Ryan was obviously searching his brain for an explanation.

  No.

  “So you went to the gym… in your uniform?” Wesson shook his head. “That's just fucking stupid.”

  “Can we be done with this conversation now?”

  “Listen, you old geezer, I'm no detective, but your story smells fishy. Not that unlike what this car currently smells like.”

  “I'm done talking about this.”

  “We can be done talking for now, but I'm not buying this bullshit you're talking. Let's hit the pavement.”

  Ryan nodded in agreement. Wesson gave him a once over.

  Jesus. His fly’s down. Did he have sex in the patrol car or did he have wild ass sex and not have time to wipe himself down and then get in the patrol car? Wesson didn’t want to know. But did Ryan really not know the rules? No booty on duty, motherfucker.

  “Hey, Blakesly?” Wesson lifted his eyebrows as he prepared his statement. “You should close your barn door.”

  Ryan looked confused.

  Wesson pointed down. “Zip. Up. Your. Fly.”

  “Oh shit!” Ryan scrambled to zip his pants up. “Forgetful old mind of mine.”

  They both laughed.

  “You can be forgiven for this stink for now, but no more working out in your uniform, you fucking weirdo.”

  “Won't happen again.” Ryan smirked.

  Wesson wasn't convinced Ryan wasn't going to make a barnyard out of his patrol vehicle again, but he was over this line of questioning. Change the subject.

  “I don't know if you heard or not, but my father is getting out of prison Friday. I'm not happy about it, but his good behavior has made him eligible for parole.”

  “Shit, seriously?”

  “As serious as diarrhea at midnight.”

  “Sounds pretty fucking serious.”

  “Fuckin’ A. When we’re out patrolling we're going to do plenty of drivebys. Keep an eye on that fucker.”

  “Absolutely,” Ryan agreed. “Let me know if there's anything else I can do.”

  “If you see that bastard doing anything worthy of a parole violation, take his ass in.”

  “You got it.”

  “All right, enough with this centennial bullshit. Let's hit the road.”