by Harley Stone
“I’m pulling his file now. Roger Hill, typical beat cop, no marks in his file, married, two kids, a third on the way. His family just moved here from the Denver area. That’s all I’ve got, but I’m still searching.”
The door of the police cruiser swung open and Officer Roger Hill climbed out. He marched toward us, wearing a stern glower with the same efficiency that he wore the signature tan uniform of the Metropolitan Police Force. Lapel mic clipped to his shirt, radio at his hip, clipboard in hand, he tapped on my window like he meant business. I pasted on my friendliest smile and rolled down the window. Hot, dry Nevada air gushed in.
Officer Hill leaned forward and looked me and Bones over. I could almost see the wheels turning in his head as he took in our nice suits and the tricked-out Hummer, weighing it all against the orders from his department to leave us alone. He had to be wondering who we were.
“You boys in a hurry?” he asked.
I nodded. “We’re businessmen, Officer, always in a hurry. But I apologize, I didn’t mean to speed.”
His eyes hardened, telling me I’d get no mercy. “I clocked you at seventy-nine, and your brake lights were on. License and registration.”
I glanced at Bones, and we both eyed the glove box. Even if registration paperwork existed, there was no way it was in my name. My father had taught me to officially own nothing, that way the IRS couldn’t officially take it away. I hesitated, wondering if I should pretend to search the glove box or just go straight for the fake ID in my wallet.
The officer’s radio came to life with a burst of static, followed by a pleading female voice verging on hysterical. “Officer Hill, you are not on radar. Please report.”
He frowned. “Excuse me for a moment,” he said to us, before stepping back and answering.
“Tech, what’s going on?” I asked.
“I’m working on it, sir. Don’t worry. The team is almost to you. Sit tight.”
The team was why I worried. I needed to diffuse the situation before they showed up.
Officer Hill reappeared in my window. “License and registration,” he repeated.
Desperate, I blurted out the first lie that came to mind. “We have this important meeting we’re late to and my car broke down. I had to borrow my father’s ride, and I can’t find his registration. Can you just write me a ticket and we’ll be on our way?”
“Officer Hill, we need you to check out a possible ten-seventy on Wedgewood Drive. What’s your status?”
Keeping an eye on me and Bones, he pressed the button on his radio and said, “I’m still at the four-thirty-eight.”
Static. Then, “Officer Hill, you are not authorized to proceed with that four-thirty-eight. You have been ordered back to the station by the chief.”
He tilted his head to the side, eyes hardening. “Your father could be the devil himself, I don’t care. Nobody’s above the law.”
“I told you, we’re just a couple of businessmen trying to get to a meeting.”
“Oh yeah? What type of business you into? Drugs? Trafficking?”
“Officer Hill, report. What’s your status?”
He didn’t even blink.
“You should probably get that.” I nodded toward his radio.
“Don’t tell me how to do my job.” His hand slid to his holstered gun. Sweat glistened across his forehead. “Now, hand over your goddamn license.”
I took a resigned breath and slid the ID from my wallet. Righteous anger radiated from the Colorado transfer. He was a good cop who didn’t understand how we played the game here, but he was about to get a crash course.
He studied my fake license and chuckled. “John Frank, huh? They’re not going to let me run this, are they?”
I didn’t reply. Even if they did, he wouldn’t find anything.
“You part of one of the families?” he asked.
He knew about us. Hell, he was probably some wannabe savior who thought he could bring us down. Thought the good guys would win or some shit like that. In a last ditch effort I switched tactics and tried honesty. “I’m just a man trying to save another man from making a big mistake. Christmas is coming and you have two kids and one in the oven. Am I right, Roger?”
That surprised him. His eyes widened for a second before hardening again. Maybe he’d come around after all.
“You’re in a lot of danger right now, Officer, but not from me.”
He pulled his gun. “Don’t threaten me, and don’t talk about my family.”
Bones shifted. I slowly held my hand up, silently begging my friend to trust me.
I tried to pretend the Glock pointed at my face didn’t piss me off and opened my wallet again, this time reaching for the bills in the back. I needed this dumbass to stand down and fall in line so he wouldn’t create a scene. “You’re a good cop, going above and beyond, so why don’t you accept this token of our appreciation for your service and get back in your cruiser while you can still drive away.”
“Officer Hill, do you read me? You are not authorized to proceed with that four-thirty-eight,” the dispatcher said again. “We need you to return to the station. Now.”
I slowly withdrew seven hundred dollars, and then added another three. “Last chance. Think of your kids, Roger. Don’t you want to see their Halloween costumes? To spend Thanksgiving with them? And Christmas? They need their father. Your wife needs her husband. Nobody has to get hurt. Just take the money and walk away.”
His jaw clenched. He didn’t even glance at the cash. “I’m an officer of the law and not interested in your chances. Now, hand over your real license and registration before I arrest you both and impound your car.”
I sighed. “You have no backup. Nobody’s going to impound my car, and there’s no way you’re taking me in. In a few minutes a group of men will show up and they’ll lose their shit over you pulling a gun on me.”
Officer Hill’s hand began to tremble.
The screen on my dashboard lost its connection. I didn’t have to look at my phone to know I had no bars. All electronics in the area were blocked. I was out of time.
“Incoming,” Bones whispered.
My rearview mirror showed a black SUV pulling up behind the cop car. Doors opened. Officer Hill turned toward the sound.
Six shots rang out and Mrs. Hill became a widow.
Pockets were rifled through, keys were tossed, and then the police cruiser started up and drove away. Suits blocked the body from the view of freeway drivers as the clean up crew bagged up the officer. Someone handed me back my fake ID.
What a fuckin’ waste.
My dashboard screen lit up and Tech’s face appeared. “Get out of there, Angel,” he said. The map with our blinking drop point reappeared on the screen.
“You tried,” Bones said. “Stupid son-of-a-bitch should have listened.”
My father’s men were watching me, measuring my reaction, judging whether or not I was ruthless and apathetic enough to lead their merry band of murderers. Shit, this was what I’d been born to do. Nodding a thanks to them, I slid the Hummer into gear and merged back onto the freeway. In my rearview mirror, I watched them load the body bag into the SUV.
He was a good guy—a good cop—and in Vegas, nice guys didn’t just finish last… they didn’t finish at all.
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Copyright © 2017 by Piper Davenport & Harley Stone
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States
Addison
FRIDAY MORNING, I was awakened by the phone buzzing on my nightstand. I rolled over with a groan and checked the caller ID. Harley. “Um, hello, no calls before eleven on Fridays. You better be in a ditch with a broken leg somewhere.”
My best friend groaned into the phone. “I just got fired.”
I sat up. “What the hell? Why?”
Harley Linn James has been my best friend since she transferred into my exclusive private school in the sixth g
rade. She’d been given a special scholarship due to her family’s financial situation and the shrew girls (we’d named them that because they were way worse than mean girls) clocked her the second she walked through the doors.
Harley was gorgeous. G-O-R-G-E-O-U-S. As in, soft, curly red hair, a smattering of freckles over her nose that was cute as hell (as my brother said all too many times), hazel eyes, and, when she hit her teens, she developed a curvy figure which was all too often noticed by the wrong people.
As if beauty wasn’t enough, Harley had a quick wit and an even quicker mouth. Although she rarely stood up for herself, she fought for everyone else: me, the janitor being harassed by the shrew girls, random dogs locked in hot cars on sunny days, bugs about to be squished in the hallway. And while this kept her from belonging to the “in” crowd, it made me love her even more.
And now she was calling me at 9:59 in the morning because her asshat of a boss had fired her. And I’m pretty sure I know why she was let go—because despite his many advances, she wouldn’t sleep with him.
“Why do you think?” she confirmed.
“Come over.”
“I’m already here.”
“Well, then use your key and come in. Why are you not already inside?”
“Because I didn’t know if you had your gun in its safe, or next to you, and I didn’t want to be fired and dead!”
I giggled. “Gun is in its safe. Come on in.”
I slid out of bed and wrapped my silk Armani robe around me. I could walk around half-naked in front of Harley, but she’d already been traumatized enough for one day.
I hustled into the living room and pulled her in for a hug. “He’s a dick.”
“I know,” she said, her stoic nature working overtime.
“You can cry you know.”
“I’m not going to cry over that asshole!” she snapped. “I might drink bleach later, a nice 2015 Clorox, but I won’t cry!”
“Okay, lady.” I forced myself not to laugh as I raised my hands in surrender. “Coffee?”
“Yes,” she breathed out. “Coffee. STAT.”
“You should have been a nurse,” I mused as I grabbed containers for my Keurig.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because you have the lingo down.”
“Shut it.” Harley gave me her “I will stab you in your sleep” eyes, and I smiled.
“Nurse Harley. I wonder if you’d be anything like Nurse Jackie. Let me see your eyes. Are your pupils pinned?”
I heard a quiet snort and turned to see her biting back a smile.
“I totally beat your record!”
We’d had an unwritten contest for as long as I could remember that whenever one of us was having a bad day, the other one had to get her to laugh. Harley could usually get me giggling within minutes; however, I just beat her best time, so I did a happy dance around my kitchen while I’m sure she plotted my murder in her mind.
“Let’s go out tonight,” I suggested, handing her a cup of coffee.
“Um, hello. No job, no money.”
“I’m paying.” I smiled. “Or Daddy is.”
My father was, how do you say... absent? So when my parents separated, he gave Asher and me credit cards to use whenever we wanted. Even after my parents reconciled (for appearances only, let’s be honest), Daddy insisted we keep the cards “for emergencies.”
Asher never touched his; as a highly skilled attorney, he didn’t need to. Me? I hadn’t quite found myself. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I did nothing, but planning fundraisers and events for Mother and Daddy isn’t what I ultimately wanted to do with my life. I was good at it, but it wasn’t my bliss. Of course, using Daddy’s money whenever I wanted to did bring a certain measure of joy, and since I did the work for less than most meeting planners would charge, I let my father assuage his absent-parent guilt when I needed cash for retail therapy... or bar hopping.
“Addie.”
Before I could respond, my phone buzzed. “Oh, look, it’s my brother.”
“Don’t answer,” Harley demanded.
“Hey, Ashy.”
“I’m killing you in my head,” she hissed.
I gave her a sassy smile and focused on my brother. Asher was two years older than me and besides Harley, my best friend. It had been the two of us against the world (or our parents) forever—still was, to be honest. Then along came Harley, using her sharp wit and small-town charisma to carve her way into the position of (her words) third wheel, although, admittedly, she provided just the balance we needed.
We’d had more fun than three kids should legally be allowed to have, until she and Asher caught the feels for each other and started acting more like two stooges.
“Hey, sis,” Asher said.
“What’s up, favorite brother of mine?”
“Can I swing by and grab that portfolio I asked you to look over?”
“When?”
“Like, now?”
I glanced at Harley and she glared at me, shaking her head. She must have heard Asher’s question.
“Ummm... ”
“I know it’s before eleven, but it’ll only take a second. I can just let myself in, but wanted to call in case your gun wasn’t in its safe.”
“What is with everyone and my gun?” I snapped. “I wouldn’t just shoot somebody willy-nilly.”
“Bobby Moore,” he said at the same time Harley asked, “Who the hell says willy-nilly?”
Bobby Moore, my shooting instructor, had made the mistake of trying to flirt with me while teaching me to shoot. I almost shot his leg off when I threw my hand up in frustration because he kept distracting me. In the end, the bullet went through his jeans, just grazing his calf, and that’s when I realized he’d never be the man for me. He was way too weak... blubbering like a sissy because of a minor flesh wound. I still shuddered thinking about what a wimp he was, and Asher loved to remind me. Gah! I hated weak men.
“One time,” I replied. “And it barely broke the skin.”
Asher chuckled. “Sure, we’ll go with that. Did I hear Harley?”
“Yep,” I said, stepping away from the laser-beam glare Harley shot me. “She says ‘hey.’”
“I hate you,” Harley breathed out, and I blew her a kiss.
“I’ll see you in a bit.”
“Sounds good,” I said, and hung up.
* * *
Harley
“Addison Angeline Allen, don’t you turn your back on me,” I demanded in the most threatening tone I could conjure.
“More coffee?” Addison asked.
I slid my mug toward her. “Please tell me your brother is not on his way here.”
“You couldn’t possibly want me to lie to you, could you?” she asked, looking appalled. “Harley, you know I’m not that kind of girl.” Then she beamed me her signature, hundred-watt smile, reminding me why I could never stay mad at her. She was like a cute little blonde-haired, blue-eyed demon whose good intentions were sure to lead me straight to my own personal hell.
“He can’t see me like this, Addie. I’m so…” Destitute, jobless, beaten, pathetic; none of the adjectives I could come up with did my situation justice.
“Are you kidding me? Right now is the perfect time for him to see you. You’ll tell him what your boss did and he’ll swoop in and drag the asshat to court, saving the day and forcing you to finally admit you’re in love with him so the two of you can get married and give me lots of gorgeous nieces and nephews.”
Addison was also a hopeless romantic.
“You think you got this all figured out, don’t you?” I asked, preparing to crush her dreams.
She nodded enthusiastically. “I’ve even found you the perfect dress.”
And I bet the glamorous creation would cost more than I made in a year. I needed to derail this train before it flattened the pennies left in my savings account. Don’t get me wrong, when it came to Asher, Addison and I had the same goal in mind–I’d marry her smart, funny, kind, ha
ndsome big brother and have his babies—but I intended to make my own way in this world first. I was working on a plan to dig myself out of the hole I’d been born into so I could climb up to his level, but losing my job would take me back to square one. And at twenty-four years old, and acutely aware of my biological clock ticking toward thirty, I didn’t want to start over.
Feeling defeated, I collapsed on the sofa and stared at the ceiling. “You don’t get it, Addie. I want Asher to see me as an equal… as someone he’s chosen to love because of what I bring to the table. Not because he has to rescue me like some damsel in distress, getting harassed by my pervert of a boss.”
She put her hands on her hips and stared me down. “You’re an idiot, you know that? Ash has been in love with you since—”
“Since when?” I interrupted. “Since that stupid “Seven Minutes in Heaven” game when I threw up in his lap? I’m sure that made quite the impression. Not my best moment, Addie.”
She cracked a smile, shaking her head at the memory. Some people get sweaty hands or stutter when they’re nervous. Turns out I throw up… all over the boy I’d spent my entire life crushing on. Epic.
“That was years ago, and you—”
“Can still barely talk to him without losing my lunch,” I finished for her. “Admit it, Addie, I’m a lost cause.”
“So you like the guy so much it ties your stomach in knots. It’s… it’s sweet.”
I barf on him and she calls it sweet. See? Hopeless romantic.
“And when he finds out what your boss did to you, he’ll—”
Asher picked that very moment to walk into the living room. Of course he did, because I was having the best day ever.
“What’s going on with your boss, Harley?” he asked, without missing a beat.
My cheeks heated as my eyes sought him out, wondering what else he’d overheard. Asher was suited up for the day. Probably Armani, since both he and Addison had a penchant for the designer. He had the same blond hair as his sister, but his blue eyes had an intensity to them that always managed to steal my breath away. He was currently rocking a short beard that added a layer of ruggedness to his posh handsomeness, taking him to yet another level out of my league. Hell, now that I was jobless, we weren’t even playing the same sport. I sat there in my clearance-rack skirt and blazer, acutely aware of the small run in the back of my nylons, wishing I could blend in with Addison’s leather sofa. When I didn’t answer his question, he turned to Addison.