Games of the Heart

by Kristen Ashley

  But it was better in a huge, comfortable, scarily expensive bed with a dog.

  Unbelievably better.

  * * * * *

  I woke when Mike shifted out from under me and Layla jerked to her belly then jumped off the bed.

  My eyes fluttered open then started to close before I realized that Mike wasn’t rounding the bed to use the bathroom. From the direction of where Layla’s jingling dog tags were going, he was exiting the room.

  My eyes opened to see the dark shadows of sheets. It took a while but in the distance I finally heard Layla’s tags coming back. She hopped on the bed before Mike shifted back under me.

  “Getting a drink?” I mumbled sleepily, my body settling into his, my eyes drifting closed, my arm snaking across his gut.

  “Walkthrough,” he mumbled back and my eyes drifted back open.

  “What?”

  “Walkthrough, sweetheart,” he said, his arm curled around my back giving me a squeeze. “Go back to sleep.”

  “Walkthrough for what?” I asked the shadowed planes and angles of his chest.

  “The house,” he replied.

  “For what?” I kind of repeated. “Did you hear something?”

  “No.”

  “But –”

  “Once in a while, I just do it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I give a shit about what’s sleepin’ under my roof. So I wake up in the night, scan the feel of my place and if I feel like it, I get up and walk through. It takes a minute, it makes me feel better and I can lie my head down and know the thing I give a shit about that’s sleepin’ under my roof is doing it safely.”

  Seriously, he was killing me.

  “I’m an independent woman,” I announced to his chest and his arm gave me another squeeze.

  “I know, honey.”

  “I can take care of myself,” I informed him.

  “I know,” he whispered.

  “But what you just said, what you did earlier, carrying me around the room, I’ve never had that. And I loved it. Since I’ve never had it, I didn’t know how good it would feel. And it feels good when you take care of me.”

  As I spoke, his body went still except his arm went super tight, pressing me deep into his long, warm, hard frame.

  I tilted my head back and with my lips to the underside of his jaw, I whispered, “Talking through stuff with me, listening to me, taking care of me, none of that I ever really had. Ever, honey. Not like this. Thank you for giving that to me.”

  His chin dipped and his neck twisted so his lips were a breath away from mine, he whispered back, “You’re welcome, Dusty.”

  “You should know I feel safe in a lot of ways with you, Mike Haines, and not just sleeping under your roof.”

  “Fuck,” he muttered, rolling me, his mouth taking mine in a soft, sweet, middle of the night kiss that said a whole lot without a single word.

  I ended up on my back with Mike pressed into me.

  “I dicked you around,” he whispered, “and you just gave me that.”

  “I forgave you, remember?”

  “I dicked you around and you just gave me that,” he repeated.

  “Yeah,” I replied softly.

  “Thank you, Angel.” He sounded like he meant it. A whole lot.

  “You’re welcome, gorgeous.” I knew I meant it the same way.

  He touched his mouth to mine then settled but not rolling us back to where we were. He put his head to the pillow, pressed his face into the side of mine and pulled my body deep under his before he tangled his legs with mine.

  Layla did some fidgeting then settled with a groan.

  “Now, go back to sleep,” Mike ordered.

  “All right, Mike.”

  “’Night, darlin’.”

  “’Night, honey.”

  My hand slid down his warm, sleek skin from his lat to his waist.

  He tucked me tighter to him.

  Yeah, I felt safe. Definitely.

  Then I fell asleep.

  Chapter Eleven

  Right Next Door

  Tuesday morning, Mike was sitting behind his desk at the Station, the phone to his ear when he saw Joe “Cal” Callahan saunter up the steps to the bullpen wearing his winter uniform of faded jeans, tight black t-shirt, black motorcycle boots and black leather jacket.

  Incidentally, this was the same as his summer uniform except in the summer he lost the jacket.

  Since they hooked up, Violet Callahan and her daughters had wrought a number of miracles as pertained to Cal. But even in a house full of women who liked to shop, getting him to deviate from his uniform was not one of those miracles.

  His eyes hit Mike the minute his boot hit the top floor.

  Mike held eye contact as Cal strode through the bullpen and he kept it when Cal settled himself in the chair beside Mike’s desk.

  Cal, being Cal, throughout this gave him nothing.

  Cal being there at all meant Mike was alert.

  Cal was around. If they were there at the same time, Mike would sit and drink beers with him at J&J’s Saloon. Cal was tight with Colt. And Cal’s stepdaughter was attached at the hip with Tanner Layne’s son so they’d grown necessarily close seeing as it was without a doubt the Laynes and the Callahans would one day be family. Tanner, as a local PI, was at the Station often. But a visit to the bullpen from Cal was unusual.

  “We got the same,” Mike said into the phone to the detective working the same burglary case for IMPD. And when he said that what he meant was they had absolutely fucking nothing. “Somethin’ pops, keep me briefed.”

  “Copy that. Expect the same. Later.”

  “Later,” Mike muttered and put the phone in its base.

  He lifted his brows to Cal then he watched a slow, wide grin spread across Joe Callahan’s face.

  Just a few years ago, Joe Callahan had a quota of a smile and a half every five years.

  Now with Violet in his bed, Cal’s smiles came a fuckuva lot more often.

  “Wanna explain the grin?” Mike invited when Cal just sat there smiling at him and not saying a word.

  Though, seeing that grin, he did not want to know.

  “Girl next door,” Cal muttered through his grin and, getting it not to mention annoyed as fuck by it, Mike sat back in his chair. “What’d I say?” he went on to ask.

  “Are we seriously doing this?” Mike asked back.

  “What’d I say?” Cal repeated.

  Fuck, they were doing this.

  “Mine moved in right next door, man. Sounds of it, yours did too,” Cal stated.

  “Fuck me, The Lone Wolf is gossiping,” Mike muttered and Cal’s grin got bigger.

  “You gotta know, unless you keep it wrapped up tight like you have all the other ass you’ve been tappin’, small town, word flies. My woman’s tight with Cheryl. Cheryl works at J&J’s. Cheryl caught sight of you and your woman Friday night and she was on the phone faster ‘n lightnin’ sharin’ that shit. Then Mimi kicked in, providin’ the info you and your woman were cozy over coffee at her place. This means Vi, Cheryl, Feb, Mimi and Jessie been peckin’ over you and your woman all weekend. Jessie even did drive-bys of your house and yes, that’s plural. Reportedly, you didn’t come up for air all weekend.”

  “Jesus,” Mike muttered, sensing an already annoying situation deteriorating when, from the desks opposite the narrow aisle, Colt’s attention came to the conversation and Sully, across from Mike, actually swiveled his chair to face them. It was worse because Merry was returning from wherever Merry disappeared.

  “Vi’s a mess,” Cal went on and Mike looked to him. “Feb, Jessie and Mimi reported that your girl in high school took a walk on the bitch side. She’s convinced history is repeating itself. You gotta give me something, man, so she doesn’t hunt her ass down and ask her to state her intentions.”

  Mike held his eyes and returned, “Dusty just lost her brother. I know Vi gets that and I hope she doesn’t do somethin’ stupid that’ll piss me off b
ecause, fair warning, she does, I’ll let her know it.”

  “Dusty Holliday?” Colt asked and Mike looked to him.

  Colt was Feb’s husband. Colt had lived this all weekend just like Cal. But Colt was a man who let you share when and if you were ready rather than forcing it. That said, if it was out there, Colt wouldn’t hesitate to jump right in and his next words verified this.

  “You finally tagged Darrin’s sister?” he finished knowing Mike did since his wife had been talking about it all weekend and some of this talk was undoubtedly directed Colt’s way.

  There it was, the floodgates had opened. And Colt of all people opened them.

  Fuck him.

  Mike had been a cop a long time and a man all his life. He’d seen this before. Often. So he kept his mouth shut, his body leaned back in his chair and let it ride.

  “Holy fuck,” Sully murmured, his eyes on Mike. “Funeral hook up. Didn’t know you had that in you. Impressed.”

  Mike closed his eyes. He opened them again when Merry spoke.

  “What’s that mean, ‘finally’?” he asked Colt, sitting with his ass on his desk.

  “Jackie said more than once back in the day that Mike was impatient,” Colt explained. “Dated the wrong sister. At the time, Dusty was too young. He waited a few years, according to Jackie, he’d get his soul mate.”

  Jackie was Colt’s mother-in-law. Jackie was one of the J’s in J&J’s Saloon. Jackie now spent some of her time down in Florida, most of it up in The ‘Burg spoiling Colt and Feb’s son and her other two grand children rotten. And Jackie Owens had for years been The ‘Burg’s resident sage.

  “Soul mate,” Merry murmured not hiding the fact he found this amusing. Also clearly not remembering not three fucking months ago, shitfaced, Mike at his side waiting for the time he could pour Merry in his truck then take him home and pour him in into his condo, he’d called his ex Mia the same fucking thing.

  “Jesus, man, you had the sister too?” Sully asked, eyes wide, now visibly impressed.

  “Don’t think I’ll tell Vi that shit,” Cal muttered.

  “She already knows,” Mike told him. “If Feb, Mimi and Jessie didn’t share, which they probably did, the first time I had her in my bedroom, I showed her Dusty’s farm and told her about Debbie.”

  Cal’s smile died and his eyes got hard.

  Score for Mike. Cal didn’t like a reminder his wife had been in Mike’s bedroom at all much less more than once.

  Served his ass, walking up to the bullpen knowing full well he’d be instigating this shit just with a grin.

  For the record, after playing games of the heart, Mike had an uneasy détente with Joe Callahan. Cal won Vi, he was enjoying the spoils and his getting her pregnant and vocally intending to do it again soon was proof of that. At the time though, Cal had screwed the pooch and he’d done it huge giving Mike a viable shot and Cal knew it. He also didn’t like it

  “Only thing I remember about Dusty Holliday back in the day was that she could sing,” Merry noted. “Dad said the only part of church he missed when we quit goin’ was that Holliday girl and her golden pipes.”

  “She still sing?” Sully asked.

  Mike didn’t get the chance to answer, not that he would have. Merry butted in.

  “Don’t know if Dusty still sings but Mike was whistlin’ a tune when he jogged up those steps yesterday mornin’, rarin’ to take on the week,” he said, grinning at Mike like the asshole he could be.

  “Never heard you whistle,” Sully said to Mike.

  “I meant figuratively, Sul,” Merry muttered but Sully ignored him.

  “This one, you think, maybe, someday in his decade or the next, you might introduce to your kids?” Sully asked.

  “She practically threw Rees’s birthday party,” Merry shared something he’d been sitting on for use at the right moment, namely this one.

  Mike closed his eyes again as he heard the men pull in a collective breath.

  They knew what that meant.

  “No shit?” Colt asked and Mike opened his eyes again.

  “No shit,” he told Colt.

  Sully whistled then, “I gotta tell Raine this right away. I wait to get home tonight, she’ll tan my ass. She’ll want more daylight to spread the heartbreaking news around The ‘Burg that another prime bachelor has fallen. She loves that shit. Dashing hopes, killing dreams.”

  Sully was not joking. He made that call, which he would or his wife Lorraine would bust his balls, the entire ‘Burg would know about him and Dusty by sunset.

  “Fuck me,” Mike muttered.

  “Had a weekend of that by the sounds of it, man. You should be topped up,” Cal remarked to chuckles all around.

  Mike didn’t even crack a smile.

  He locked eyes with Cal. “I appreciate the sacrifice you’re makin’ for your wife, Cal. But in case you don’t get it, Dusty bein’ at Reesee’s party, this is not ass I’m tappin’. It’s not a funeral hook up. It’s Dusty. Therefore I’d advise you to be careful with your words.”

  “I know you appreciate my sacrifice, Haines,” Cal fired back. “So I know you know Vi cares about you. Jessie’s a fuckin’ nut. She said some shit that tipped Vi. She hasn’t forgotten, I know you haven’t forgotten and I sure as fuck haven’t forgotten. So you layin’ the heavy on me to lay off your Dusty means this woman means something to you. Carryin’ that through, you might wanna see about doin’ somethin’ that’ll make my woman feel better you ended up with somethin’ that’ll make her rest easy.”

  Jesus, fuck. Violet. Mike didn’t get how a good woman could jack you up and the results were more long lasting than when a bitch did it.

  “She can rest easy,” Mike told Cal.

  “Then I ‘spect, when she calls you to ask you and your woman over for dinner, you’ll say yes seein’ as she intends to do that sometime today,” Cal returned.

  Jesus, fuck. Violet.

  “You might wanna waylay that considering Dusty knows about Vi and she’s not chompin’ at the bit to sit down to pork chops at her table,” Mike replied.

  Cal held his eyes and he read what was in them.

  So he muttered, “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Smart call,” Mike muttered back.

  His cell on his desk rang, his eyes went to it and it said “Dusty Calling”.

  “There she is,” Merry announced, seeing it too. “The woman of the hour.”

  Terrific.

  Hours after a funeral, he’d somehow got catapulted back to high school.

  Dusty was getting off on it, loved every minute.

  Mike couldn’t say their time by the watering hole was shit but the rest of it was a pain in his ass.

  Mike tagged the phone, hit the button and put it to his ear.

  “Hey, Angel,” he said with four men listening.

  “I know you’re working, gorgeous, but if you don’t want one of your colleagues to be investigating sister-a-cide, you might wanna get to the farm.”

  Mike’s straightened out of his chair immediately, ordering, “Talk to me.”

  “She’s here. With a bunch of men. They’ve got some kind of equipment so they can survey the land. She’s informed me that if Fin, Kirb and I don’t want to sell our parts, she’s still selling her quarter and she’s got buyers.” She paused, gearing up he would know when she ended on a near shriek, “And get this! Mini-fucking-strip mall!”

  Mike was already moving to the backstairs.

  “Stay calm,” he told her.

  “Calm is history,” she shot back.

  Mike stopped at the top of the stairs. “Dusty, honey, listen to me. Are you listening to me?”

  “Oh I’m listening,” she snapped and he knew she wasn’t. She was pissed and losing it.

  “Deep breath, Angel, and focus just on me.”

  There was silence then he heard a breath then, “I’m listening.”

  “We’re gonna sort this.”

  “Mike –”

  “We�
�re gonna sort this.”

  He heard another breath then, “Okay.”

  “I’ll be there in ten.”

  “Okay.”

  “Stay calm.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m letting you go now.”

  “Okay, honey,” she whispered.

  “Later,” he said.

  “Later.”

  He touched the button and, his voice no longer filled with humor but completely serious, Mike heard Merry offer, “You want company?”

  Mike’s eyes cut to his partner and his mind conjured an image of Debbie. Then it conjured an image of Dusty strangling Debbie.

  Then he answered, “Yeah.”

  Merry grabbed his jacket.

  Mike jogged down the stairs.

  Therefore, he didn’t see the three other men in the room follow Merry.

  * * * * *

  “Slow day for The ‘Burg’s PD?” Debbie called sarcastically, her makeup free face twisted with distaste as Mike and Merry with Colt, Sully and Cal bringing up the rear, walked up to the huddle outside the front of the Holliday farmhouse.

  “I don’t know what she was like back in the day, bro, but seriously, you picked the right sister in the end,” Merry muttered under his breath.

  He’d given Merry the rundown on the way there. And Merry only had an afternoon with Dusty but Dusty was standing on the front porch, appearing to be barring the door, facing down Debbie and four men and the evidence Merry was right was laid out before them.

  Debbie was in a power pantsuit, sturdy pumps and a wool overcoat that was good quality but its hints that it was actually made for a woman were few.

  Dusty was wearing supremely faded jeans that had a slit in one knee and fit her in a way that, even though he was pissed and concerned, he had to fight his dick getting hard. She was also wearing a dusky pink sweater that was falling off one shoulder so you could see her bra strap, which was also pink. The sweater was slouchy at the top but started fitting her around the midriff and was snug there down to her hips. Her masses of hair were caught up in a slipshod knot at the top back of her head with locks spiking out, tendrils falling around her neck and down her chest.

  It was late February, the day was relatively warm but it was still fucking February and his woman’s feet were bare. He could see her toenail polish again matched her fingernails. She’d somehow found the time to change it since she was over last night having dinner with him and his kids. It had gone from a green so dark it was nearly black to a lilac so pale it was nearly sheer.