by Jordan Marie
Cocked and Loaded
Lucas Brothers Book 4
Jordan Marie
Copyright © 2018 by Jordan Marie
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including but not limited to being stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, groups, businesses, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover Art by Robin Harper with Wicked By Design
Photographer: Wander Aguiar
Model: Brook DeDe
WARNING: This book contains sexual situations, violence and other adult themes. Recommended for 18 and above.
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Contents
Title Page
Stay Connected
Blurb
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2. Addie
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Epilogue
The End
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By: Jordan Marie
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When I slap the handcuffs on her
I’ll be taking her to bed, not jail.
Getting involved with the wrong woman can destroy your life.
I had to move back home and lose my position as Detective to get away from one.
The last thing I need is to repeat my mistake.
I finally have what I want.
Deputy in my home town, surrounded by family and friends—
Life is good.
Then she crashes—literally crashes—into my world.
Adelle Harrington is a pain in my ass.
She’s way too high maintenance for my tastes.
She’s sassy, opinionated, and stubborn as hell.
She’s also the Mayor’s only daughter.
Which means she should be completely off limits.
When she forces my hand and breaks the law, all bets are off.
She picked the wrong cop to tangle with.
I’ve got her in my sites, she’s not getting away
And I’m definitely not shooting blanks.
Chapter One
Black
“How does it feel getting used to a small town again?” Luka asks as he perches his ass on my desk. I frown up at him. He might be married to my sister, and I like and respect the man, but I don’t need his ass-cooties on my desk.
“Do you mind?” I ask him, frowning and looking at him sitting there with annoyance on my face, clear for him to read—I should have known it wouldn’t matter.
“Normally no. I like it better when I make women mind… Well more to the point one woman—Petal. She likes it too. Just last night—”
“If you start talking about having sex with my sister I may have to pistol whip you… to death.”
“You’ve gotten so pissy since you moved back from Dallas. Have I mentioned?”
“You’re starting to sound like, Petal,” I grumble.
He’s not wrong. I mean, I like being back and I’m actually enjoying the job. But, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss the excitement of the cases I got back in Dallas. Being home has been a big adjustment. Not to mention, I’ve been forced to live back at home with Mom and Jansen while I find a good place to rent. I had one… only to discover it was infested by mice. So back to mom’s I went. Mason isn’t that big and finding a decent place is not easy.
“She must be rubbing off on me. Which reminds me of last night, we were in bed…
“That’s it!” I growl… loudly. “I don’t know why you and my mom ever had problems because you’re just alike! I’m out of here, there’s no way I’m listening to you go on about schtupping my sister.”
“Schtupp? That’s so crass. I’m a cop so I like to call it pounding the punanni pavement.”
“Is this what I’ve been resigned to? Is this my life now? Living at home with my mother listening to her talk about having sex with Jansen—whom I love but probably has balls that look like prunes—only to come to work and listen to my boss talk about having sex with my sister?” I moan, sounding pitiful. But fuck, right now I feel pitiful.
Luka—the bastard—just laughs.
“Eventually probably not, but for now I find I’m enjoying it. Especially after finding out you are the fucker who gave Petal that damn dress she wore out to see that fuckwad Craig.”
“I don’t actually think fuckwad is Craig’s first name, even if that is what you call him all the time.”
“It fits,” Luka shrugs taking a drink of his coffee. “I can’t believe you gave her that damn dress.”
“It worked to get your attention, now didn’t it?” I remind him. The bastard should be grateful. I was a genius with that plan, man. People never fully appreciate me.
“Petal always
had my attention, asshole.”
“Whatever. My plan was golden. If you think about it, I’m the reason you have little Rain now.”
“Oh, now you’re just being delusional. The reason we have my daughter has nothing to do with you and everything to do with the power of my—”
“And I’m out. I’m going to go on patrol and find a jaywalker or something. I can’t sit here and listen to you talk about your dick like it’s the hammer of Thor. You know, you complain about my mom… well you used to, but you’re only proving you’re as wacky as she is. You’re naming your kids after water,” I grumble. I actually like the names of Luka’s kids, but I like to remind him that he’s like a male version of my mother as often as I can.
“Petal talked me into it. I can’t resist her when she’s on her knees and begging—”
“La-La-La! I can’t hear you!” I call out, jumping up and reaching into my desk for my weapon. I won’t need it. Nothing happens in Mason, but I get it just the same.
“Since you’re leaving, can you run these papers by Mayor Harrington’s house? He asked to see the budget proposal for the year before the next City Council meeting.”
“This all has been a trick hasn’t it? Your way of getting me to do your dirty work because you hate dealing with the Mayor?”
“Well, no. I really am pissed you dressed Petal up for fuckwad Craig. Plus, you’re too damn fun to annoy. But, I really don’t want to head out to the Mayor’s place. Petal is bringing River and Rain over and we’re going to lunch at the diner.”
“Can’t you send Danny-Boy?” I whine, really not in the mood to deal with bureaucrats.
“He’s out with the flu today and besides I hate to play this card, but he has seniority.”
“Fuck you,” I grumble. “Give me the file and I’ll go.”
“He’s not that bad, you know,” Luka says going to his desk and picking up a file. “He’s much better than the last Mayor,” he adds with a shrug, giving me the file.
I look at him. The last Mayor was his father, Roger, and there really are no words to adequately describe that piece of shit, still he died and the way he did was fucked up and I know that has to mess with Luka’s mind.
“Luka, man—”
“I’m good, Black. Better than good. I have everything a man could want. Except a deputy who does what I ask and doesn’t give me shit.”
“Fine, I’m going,” I mutter.
I take the file and put on my hat. I’m almost at the door when Luka calls out from behind me.
“And play nice. Mayor Harrington might be new to the job, but he seems to have the best interests of Mason at heart.”
“He had a three story house built high up on the hill overlooking the town, Luka.”
“So?”
“He put a damn elevator in it. He spent more on that house than most of us will make in salary the rest of our lives. You want to fit in, in a small town, you don’t lord money over people and show them constantly how much you have. He owns the town bank and—”
“Black, come on. You need to give him a break.”
“Like he did Joey Dawson’s widow?”
“Black—”
“All Tina asked for was an extension on their mortgage so she didn’t lose the house along with that fool husband of hers. The good Mayor wouldn’t even hear her out. He foreclosed on the house and served her with eviction papers the same day they were burying Joey. Poor Tina got everything dumped on her at once.”
“Black—”
“Save it. In my book that makes Mayor Harrington a fucking prick,” I grumble.
“Just play nice, okay?”
“I will. Doesn’t mean I’ll like it,” I mutter, closing the door before Luka can say anything else. Nothing he can say will convince me to like the guy anyway.
Chapter Two
Addie
I pull my thick blonde hair up and wrap the band around it pulling two parts of the hair in opposite direction to tighten it. It’s ninety out here today, but I’m ignoring it. It’s a gorgeous day and the yard needs mowed. Dad will have a cow. He hires a service for this very thing. But we have this huge expensive lawnmower in the shed for this very purpose and I still need to work some things out in my head. Okay, sure… the lawnmower looks like it hasn’t been started in years and maybe it hasn’t. Dad always hires a firm that has their own equipment.
I’ve been studying abroad. Coming back stateside has been a shock to my system, especially if you consider the fact that I’ve practically been living in Paris for the last three years. It’s been nice and I’ve learned a lot about a different culture and it’s helped me become a better chef, but it’s time for me to be home—past time really. The thing is, I didn’t expect to find my home was no longer my home. I guess that was silly. I expected my father to move on with his life, it was inevitable after Mom’s death. I didn’t expect him to have sold the family home and moved to Mason, Texas. He owned a bank here, sure. But, Dad owns lots of banks. The fact that he decided to move to a new town, sell the family home, and put all of my stuff and my mom’s stuff in storage boggles my mind. I mean, it’s not that I felt like he needed to clear it with me, but he could have told me. I had no idea until three days ago when I told him I was coming in. Then he gave me his new address. I’ve always called him on his cell so I never even knew the house phone didn’t work anymore. Plus, he’s always made a point of coming to Paris for the holidays to see me, instead of me coming home. He said we both needed memories away from the house and the sadness of Mom… I never questioned it, but I guess I should have. Dad will never understand how much it hurt to call the house after he told me and not getting our answering machine—just a recording saying the number had been disconnected.
I wonder what he did with the old answering machine… the one with Mom’s voice. Did he erase the message? Throw the machine away?
I have all these questions and yet, I can’t seem to voice them to my father. I’ve only been back a couple of days, so maybe I’ll work up to it—right now, I can’t seem to vocalize anything with him. It doesn’t help that he’s not been here either. Last night it was business meetings and today he had to go out of town to meet with the Governor of Texas. I’m used to my dad the banker. Dad the political figure is going to take some getting used to.
I put on my earphones and click my phone, finding my favorite playlist, then tuck my phone in my bra. Once the music begins blaring, I do my best to shake off some of the stress while I start the lawn mower. The front yard isn’t overly huge, but it’s much bigger than our home in Houston. I let the music take over, trying my best to still my mind and not think. Ever since I talked to Dad and he told me he sold the old house, I’ve been in turmoil. Those walls held the memories I had of my mom. The late night movie bingeing, baking cookies together, planting flowers, the times we played in the pool together, family Christmases… Everything.
I can’t get those back, and now I can’t even walk into the rooms and remember them. It’s my fault I guess. I should have come back sooner. I needed to heal, and my dad and I had never been particularly close. He’s a good guy, he really is. He’s just married to his career… and apparently that’s even more true now that he’s in politics. I’ve barely been home and he’s already leaving…
Surprisingly the lawnmower started up with just a pull on the choke and cutting the grass is helping if only because it’s giving me something to concentrate on. The smooth melody of a love song comes on and I sigh.
What would it be like to find love like that?
I never have. I seem to have an internal pheromone or something that draws all losers to me like a kid to candy.
I spend the next hour—or at least close to it—mowing the lawn. I feel sweat running down my back and along my neck. I look a mess, I’m sure, but it’s the first time I’ve felt semi-normal in a week. I’m completely zoned out…
Until the moment a yellow jacket comes hurtling at me at the speed of light. That’s probably an exagg
eration, but it seems like it. I see it coming and I jerk to the side to miss it. I swat and flail like someone trying to dance the twerk without rhythm. Then the worst that could happen, happens. The damn thing falls into my shirt. Panic hits me like it hadn’t before. At least when I could see it, I could fight it off. But now I just feel it crawling around in there and I scream. I don’t want to be stung. I’m not allergic—I don’t think—but just the thought of being stung is enough to terrify me. I hate bees—of any kind—and I hate pain. Put the two together and I lose it. Which is unfortunate because I’m no longer paying attention to mowing the lawn. I’m no longer even looking. I’m pulling my shirt way out while trying to find the bee, I can’t see anything, so I rip the shirt over my head, throwing it to the ground slapping around on my stomach and back trying to find it.
I can’t find it. I didn’t see it fly away. It must have gone somewhere else. I pull off my head phones, I wear the large ones because I’ve found the smaller ones can cause me to get a headache and I’m afraid maybe the bee went up to it and will crawl in my ear.