by K. R. Haynes
“Come sit, before you fall asleep standing up. And no, I won’t take no for answer so don’t waste your breath by saying it,” he told her.
Chloe wanted to protest. Randall knew it, but he also knew she was too tired to fight him when he ushered her over to the chair on the deck. “Sit,” he commanded her before heading inside to grab a glass of water from the kitchen for her. After she tossed back the glass of water he took the empty glass from her hand, while she curled herself up onto the chair.
Setting the empty glass in the kitchen sink, running a hand through his hair, Randall gazed out the kitchen window. The backyard was shrouded in darkness as he stared out into it. He turned his gaze away from the window upon hearing heavy footsteps coming down the hall.
Mick leaned against the kitchen doorway, his eyes saying more than his mouth did. “Car’s all fixed.”
“Thanks, Mick. I appreciate it.”
“No probs, bro, you know you can count on me anytime, anywhere.”
Randall just nodded his head. He knew what Mick wanted to ask him, but now wasn’t the time, especially not with Chloe sitting within hearing distance of them.
“So how much do I owe you for the late-night call out?”
“Your shout next time we’re at the pub. A few beers and some grub should do it. How’s that sound?”
“Shit. Mick, I owe you more than a few beers and some food.” Glancing past Mick to the hall behind him, Randall was more than eager to leave now. “Fine. Beer and food, my shout, and you better bring your damn appetite with you.”
“No worries there, mate. Now you better go wake up gorgeous out there and take her home.”
Clapping him on the shoulder as he passed by him, Randall uttered, “Thanks again, Mick.”
“No probs.”
Leaving Mick in the kitchen, Randall headed out the front to find Chloe sound asleep. She was curled up on the chair, with her knees tucked up to her chest and her head resting on top of them. Her caramel locks lay loosely down her back. Reaching down, Randall feathered his fingers through the long, soft lengths.
Seeing her stir awake, he took a step back from her. Her sleepy eyes latched onto his. “Is it fixed?” she mumbled sleepily to him. When he nodded his head, Chloe sat up straighter in the chair, dropping her feet to the floor. “So I can go home now?”
“Yes, Chloe, you may go home now.”
Chapter Five
Finally, she was home. Switching on the hall light after locking the front door, Chloe sighed as she dropped her purse and keys down on the hall table. Never in her life had she been more grateful to be home after the day she had had. Her day had been made even longer by being pulled over by Officer Randall and then having to wait around to get her car fixed. Something the officer had insisted on getting done tonight of all nights.
“What a day,” she mumbled to herself, walking into the kitchen.
A long, hot shower then bed was her plan of attack after guzzling down a glass of milk. Seeing her answering machine flashing on her way out of the kitchen, letting her know she had one lone message, probably from her parents, Chloe hit the play button. The voice that came over the answering machine was so not her father’s, though. Chloe didn’t know who it was. The menace she heard in his voice alone made her shudder. There were only two words uttered in his message left for her. “Die, bitch.”
Chloe didn’t recognise the voice of the unknown caller or who the caller could have been. She hoped to god it was a case of wrong number, which would mean it was left there by mistake somehow. She decided not to erase the message just in case it was required later and saved it to the answering machine’s memory bank before heading down the hall to her bedroom.
She was still shaken after hearing the menacing threat left for her to hear when she walked into her bedroom. She thought about calling the police about the voice message, or at the very least calling Officer Randall about it. Not that there was anything to really report other than the message itself. And there was not a lot the police could do with that alone.
Could her night get any worse? Chloe still couldn’t believe the night she had. Not only had Officer Randall gotten her car fixed for free, as it turned out, he also hadn’t given her the hefty fine she’d expected him to do. No, Officer Randall had surprised her by giving her all of his contact details instead of a fine. And not just one number, mind you. He had given her all his contact numbers, including his desk number at work and e-mail addresses. So the next time she found herself in a situation, no matter how small or large, she was under strict instructions to call him. No matter what time of the day or night it was.
Stepping into her bedroom, she was hesitant about whether to call him now about the message. After all, they both had had a rather late night and even longer day. The last thing Chloe wanted to deal with tonight was another run in with Officer Randall. No, she would call him only if she got another message. It was not like he could do much about it anyway.
It was a relief to know Officer Randall was all but a phone call away if or when she needed him. It was good to know she had someone she could count on here in her new hometown of Kingston, Tasmania. Chloe hadn’t had much of a chance to go out and meet many people since her job relocation three months ago. Other than a few work colleagues, she didn’t know anyone else here.
The officer’s parting words to her were still ringing loud and clear in her head when she crawled into bed after taking her long-awaited shower. “Call me, whether it’s to change a flat tyre or kill a spider. Whatever, whenever. If you need me you call me and only me.” She shivered again at hearing his words. “Only me, Chloe,” he had warned her. “Only me.”
Laying her head down on the pillow and tugging the blankets tight around her, Chloe let the exhaustion of the long day take hold of her and fell asleep.
* * * *
A couple of days later, Chloe sat behind her work desk staring for what must’ve been the millionth time today at the business card Officer Randall had given her. She still hadn’t called him about the voice message she received. She hadn’t received any others since the other night, either. The only other reason she had to call him was her burning desire to see him in the flesh again.
Over the past few days her imagination had run wild with images of him. The images her mind concocted of him naked left her more than wanting, to the point that even her little silver bullet couldn’t alleviate the ever-present ache in her core.
Ugh!
Why him? What was it about Officer Randall that had her coming undone, she wondered. Taking her mobile from her purse, Chloe scanned the office to see how many colleagues were still at their desks. Too many, she thought, for this type of phone call. Sighting the door leading out to the stairwell and gathering her mobile, the business card, and her security tag, Chloe slipped out into the stairwell.
With the door closing quietly behind her, she took a few deep, calming breaths before dialling Officer Randall’s mobile number first. It went straight to voicemail. Hanging up, she dialled his desk number and prayed he answered the phone and no one else did. Chloe only hoped she wasn’t interrupting him, either. However, when her call went unanswered she decided to give him a few minutes before trying him again. She only hoped the next time she tried dialling his number he would pick up.
Chapter Six
After having the past two days rostered off, Randall strolled through the front doors of the Kingston police station ready for yet another long shift on patrol. At least today’s blessed shift had been rostered for daylight hours instead of the dreaded graveyard shift. Stopping to say a quick hello to Kayla at reception and to sign in, Randall headed down the long, vacant corridor toward the row of offices and desks which were located at the rear of the building.
Randall didn’t even make it to his desk. Hearing his captain bellowing his name out at the top of his lungs, telling him to get his arse into his office pronto, made him curse out loud. Scrubbing a hand over his face, he headed in the direction of the
captain’s office. He knew this wasn’t going to be a pleasant visit in the least.
Tapping once on the door, Randall heard the stern command to enter from his captain. Stepping inside the small office and closing the door behind him, Randall took a seat opposite the captain. The grumpy-arse bastard sat behind the beat-to-shit desk he ruled from. Randall could never understand why the grumpy old bugger even bothered to come to work or, hell, even live, for that matter. The captain was such a miserable bastard, but a goddamn good captain. Nothing got past him, that was for sure.
“Randall, explain to me why your patrol car was spotted towing a”—the captain glanced briefly down at the file on top of his desk—“a blue hatchback three nights ago.”
“The report I typed up should explain it clear enough for you, captain.”
“Don’t be smart with me, boy. I’m not in the mood for it. And your report explains shit about towing a vehicle.”
“Well, I think it explains the situation perfectly, sir.” Randall knew he was pushing the captain’s buttons, but he was in no mood to go toe to toe with the captain. Not today, not ever. Randall crossed his arms over his chest, letting the captain know, in no uncertain terms, he wasn’t planning on explaining himself or his actions from the other night any further.
Hearing the captain sighing, Randall knew the topic was now closed.
“I have to tell you, Randall, your actions the other night don’t exactly stand well for you. Not with your suspension from the Bomb Squad. Of which, I remind you, you have three weeks remaining to see out. I have a good mind to stick you on night patrol for the remainder of your suspension.”
Frustration ate at Randall. The last thing he wanted was to be stuck on the graveyard shift for the next three weeks. Nodding his head, he remained silent as the captain continued on his rant. His ears pricked up when the captain mentioned a possibility of an early recall to the Bomb Squad. Something about one of the new team members being injured last week in the line of duty. Had them down to eight men, one less than the required nine for active rostered field duty.
Strolling out of the captain’s office ten minutes later, Randall poured himself a cup of coffee in the staff room then headed to his desk. As soon as his ass hit the chair his damn desk phone started ringing. Picking up the receiver, he answered it with a terse “hello.”
“Ahh, Officer Randall?”
“Yes, who wants to know?”
“It’s, umm, Chloe. Chloe Watson. We met unceremoniously the other night.”
Shit, Chloe. She had called him. “Is everything all right, Chloe?”
“Yes, everything is fine. I just called to see…Hello? Are you still there, Officer Randall?”
“Yes, I’m still here, and please call me Randall. Jon Randall.”
“Oh, okay, sorry.”
“No need to apologise, you weren’t to know. Now what is it I can do for you as I’m rather busy?”
“I, umm…never mind. Sorry to bother you.”
Randall stared at the phone in his hand. She had hung up on him. What the fuck? Hell, he didn’t even know the reason for her call. Sure, he had been stern, even a bastard to her over the phone. He hadn’t meant to. Spending a good twenty minutes with Mr. Grumpy-arse Captain would be enough to put anyone in a foul mood. Still, Randall had no right to take it out on Chloe.
Pressing the recall button on the phone, he waited as it redialled the number Chloe had called from. Hearing the message, “This phone is either out of range or switched off,” had him slamming the receiver down, cursing out loud as he did it.
Goddamn it, Chloe could be in trouble and he had no idea what it was or where she was. He didn’t even have her contact number for fuck’s sake. Grabbing his keys out of the desk drawer, Randall pushed back on his chair and headed out to the garage to the patrol car assigned to him. He needed to drive, be somewhere, anywhere that wasn’t the station or his desk.
* * * *
Parking the patrol car back in the garage several hours later, Randall stepped out the vehicle and locked it up before heading back inside. His shift was over now. All he needed to do was complete some paperwork which wouldn’t take him too long. He had called up Mick while he had been out on patrol and they had agreed to meet up at the local pub to throw back a few beers and grab some dinner as well.
After showering and changing into to a pair of faded denim jeans and navy shirt, Randall walked out the front doors of the station and jumped into his truck and drove to the pub.
Sighting Mick’s big arse of a truck on his arrival at the pub, Randall parked his own truck in the empty spot beside it then headed inside to the front bar. He found Mick chatting up Mary J, who was working behind the bar tonight. He pulled out the stool next to his old friend and sat down. Slapping Mick on the shoulder, Randall offered up a greeting to him. “Hey, Mick. Mary J, good to see you. How are you?”
“Good now you’re here, sweetie. Can I get you a beer?”
“Please.” As Mary J went about organising his drink order, Randall turned to Mick. “So, you bring your appetite tonight?”
Mick just laughed at him. “Sure did, mate. Haven’t eaten for the last few days in preparation for this. I could practically eat a whole cow right about now.”
Randall couldn’t help but laugh at his old mate’s sense of humour. Trust Mick to put a smile on his face. “Well, I guess we better grab our beers and find a table then.”
Sitting down at the table off to the side of the bar, Randall picked up the menu and gave his order to the awaiting waitress. When both their food and drink orders were taken the waitress sauntered away.
Leaning back in his chair, Randall smirked at Mick. “So you got something going on with Mary J yet, old man?”
Mick scoffed at the question, dismissing it with a wave of his hand. “You, my friend, are treading on dangerous ground when you want to discuss another man’s sex life.”
Laughing at his old mate’s answer, or lack thereof, Randall knew when a subject was closed. And this one was definitely closed off, for now. He knew his old mate had gooey eyes for the fiery redhead behind the bar. Ever since Mary J had stomped her way through the bar in knee-high cowboy boots, short denim shorts, and a skimpy white tank top, Mick had practically drooled at the sight of her. It was only a matter of time before his old mate hooked up with that chick.
Picking up the beer in his hand, Randall guzzled the amber liquid down, revelling in the coolness of it as it cascaded down his throat. He nearly choked when he took another swig, all because he heard Mick asked him about Chloe. Shit, talk about a closed subject. Obviously something his old mate knew nothing about.
“So you going to tell me about the gorgeous thing from the other night, bro, or do I need to ask her myself the next time I see her? What was her name? Chloe, right?” Mick asked with a shit-eating grin on his face.
Bastard would ask her if given half the chance. Mick would probably interrogate Chloe until he had all the answers to all his questions and then some. “Nothing to tell, Mick. She’s just some chick that needed my help is all.”
“Now that’s a load of bullshit if I ever heard it.” Mick pointed his beer in Randall’s direction and said to him, “You, my friend, are lying through your teeth. You know it. I know it.”
Randall just shrugged his shoulders at him and remained silent while their food and drinks were set down in front of them.
“I’ll let your lies slide for now, Randall. But believe me, I will find out what’s between the two of you sooner or later.”
“No doubt you will, Mick. But not from me you won’t. Plus there’s nothing between us anyway.” Mick just grunted at his answer then took a swig from his beer.
With the subject of Chloe closed for the time being, Randall began to relax and enjoy himself. They ate their steaks and tossed back a couple more beers while discussing some of the issues in the force. Randall even informed Mick of his reinstatement back into the Bomb Squad team next week. He just had to pass a physical
first, and then his restatement would be signed off. His old mate’s comment of “about bloody time, too, I’ll say,” had Randall smirking behind the beer he held to his lips. A couple of hours later they both said their good-byes and promised to catch up again soon.
Jumping back into his truck, Randall reversed out of the car park and headed home. It had been another longish day and he was ready for the comfort of his own bed. He couldn’t help but think how one day soon Chloe would be lying next to him here in his own bed. He had no clue how that would eventuate. All he knew was his determination to win her back. To see her once again kneeling before him in her submissive pose.
Chapter Seven
Saturday night. Here she stood in her kitchen clutching a half-empty glass of wine. “What is wrong with this picture?” Chloe asked herself. Regret had already set in from not taking up the offer to join her fellow work colleagues at the local pub in Richmond. It wasn’t so much that she wouldn’t enjoy their company or a night out on the town. It’s more the fact that a certain someone wouldn’t be there. The only person Chloe found herself wanting to spend this Saturday night with was the only person who wouldn’t be there. Officer Jon Randall.
After the first disastrous phone call to him, Chloe hadn’t made any other attempt to contact him since then. This hadn’t stopped her from fantasying about him though. God, if she had to admit how many times she had fantasised about him in this last week alone, Officer Randall would probably get a restraining order against her. Truth be told, there were a lot of them. Every single one of her fantasies starring him left her wanting more and aching way too much. Nothing worked to alleviate the ever-present ache between her legs. Not even her toy collection, which had grown slightly since that night Officer Randall pulled her over, eased the intense ache inside her.
Shaking her head from those wicked thoughts, Chloe needed to get out of this house of hers to find some sort of distraction. Something to take her mind off Officer Jon Randall, make her think about anything else other than fantasising about him. Even though there was little chance of that ever happening.