"Ah... I want to, Cleo... I do... but... I mean..." He was about to break, seconds away even. But, just as he opened his mouth to say the words, Cleo saw his eyes look over her shoulder and flash open in fear. Something had come up behind her that frightened the living daylights out of him.
Cleo spun on her heel, instantly seeing what it was. Parked at the end of the alley, clear as day, was a cop car. The lights were flashing on top and whoever was inside the vehicle had seen the two.
"Shit!" Stan yelped.
"Don’t run," Cleo urged, grabbing Stan by the arm. "I've got this."
"Got this?! You do, but I don't!" He went to run, but she held on firm.
"Don't worry. I can --"
"This bag has fifty grams in it! He takes one look inside and I'm locked up for longer than --"
"Give me the bag," Cleo said quickly. Her eyes were still trained on the end of the alley, where the cop was slowly climbing from his car. The alley was a dead end, and the cop obviously knew that. They were trapped.
"What? No, I can't do that," Stan yelped again.
"Seriously. He won't search it if it's on me."
"But... but... this stuff isn’t mine. It's Drax's. You know who Drax is? I either give him back the drugs or the money I make from them. That's the way this thing works. I don't get him the money and --"
"I don’t know who Drax is. But it won't matter if you end up in prison, will it?" The cop was a portly fellow, waddling down the alley. He was taking his time too, obviously enjoying the way the two squirmed as they watched him.
"OK," Stan relented, shoving the bag into Cleo's hands. "But seriously, I need that back. If I don't get Drax his money from that I'm de --"
"Shut the fuck up," Cleo hissed. "I'll get rid of this guy and then you can have your precious bag back--"
"What's going on here?" the cop called out, finally within yelling distance. "I hope I didn't interrupt?"
"Not at all, officer," Cleo said pleasantly. She instantly turned on the charm, batting her eyes and running a hand through her hair. "We were just talking. That's not illegal, is it?"
"That really depends on what you were talking abo... Cleo?" the cop asked, pulling up. He was roughly twenty feet from the two now, and at that distance, Cleo realized that she actually knew the cop in question.
"Oh, hey Brian," she said with a sigh. The cop was a good friend of her brothers. That should have been good news, but to Cleo it was a nightmare. It meant that her brother was going to hear about her being in this part of town – something she had been hoping to avoid.
"What the heck are you doing here?" he asked, frowning heavily as he shuffled in closer.
"Just catching up with an old friend from school," Cleo offered. "Stan. We've been friends since --"
"I don't care how long you've been friends for," Brain scolded. "It's dangerous out here. You should know better than to -- here, I'll give you a lift back into town. Come on."
"Oh," Cleo said, surprised. "That's not necessary. I was going to get the bus and --"
"It's not necessary, but it's happening," Brain said. He dropped the pleasantries and doing his best to sound authoritative. "If your brother knew I'd left you out here he'd take my gun and pistol whip me back to the eighties. Now, come on."
Cleo stood frozen, not sure what to do. She looked from the very stern face of Brian, to the panic stricken one of Stan. Stan's eyes flashed from the cop to the backpack strung over Cleo's shoulders. His hand half moved to grab it, but didn't. Instead it kind of just dangled in mid-air, unsure what to do. Cleo would have loved nothing more than to give him back the bag - and she sure didn't relish the idea of climbing into a cop car with a bag full of cocaine on her. But she also knew she couldn't risk it.
With no other options left to her, Cleo did her best to give Stan an 'I'm sorry' look before nodding to Brian and walking down the alley toward the cop car.
"And you," Brian said to Stan. "Don't think I don't know who you are. I see you around Cleo again and you'll be jumping in the back there too. Only with cuffs on, and my night stick up your ass." He then turned and followed Cleo down the alley.
Cleo climbed in the back seat of the cop car, the back pack weighing heavily on her lap. As Brian climbed in and pulled the car onto the road, she caught Stan's eyes one more time. His face was bone white while his mouth hung open. And his eyes... she had never seen him look so worried.
Damn! Not only had Cleo failed to get the money she was after, but she now had a bag full of drugs on her, while riding in a police vehicle! She knew Brian would never dream of searching her bag, she was more concerned with time, and if she would have enough to get the bag back to Stan and get the money off him... if he was willing to part with it now, after all this.
Somehow, she doubted he would be.
****
The inside of Dallas' apartment was typical of most men with a military background. It was sparsely decorated to the point of being utilitarian, and tidy to the point of obsession. A small, studio apartment, it harbored a bed for sleeping, a couch for sitting, a TV for the occasional watching and a single chair with a small lamp next to it for reading. There was zero flair decorating the walls, every surface was clean and bare and even the tiles in the bathroom sparkled as if they had never been used.
As Dallas entered his small, bare apartment that night, he went about his usual routine. It started with a drink of milk – from a tall glass which he cleaned the moment he was done. He then sat down at the kitchen bench, pulled out his laptop and filled out the contract from the day's work. It took him exactly fifteen minutes to do, as it always did. Once that was done, it was dinner time.
Dinner was a simple meal, as always, of boiled potatoes, baked chicken breast and frozen broccoli packaged in a cheese sauce. He had just started chopping up the potatoes when he felt his phone vibrate. Putting the knife back on the rack – where it always went – he reached into his pocket and pulled the phone out.
It was his best friend, Mark, calling him. Smiling to himself, Dallas answered.
"Officer Austin," he said.
"Where have you been?" Mark demanded into the phone. His voice sounded rushed and panicked, as if he had been running. "I've been calling you all day."
"I was working. Beatrice of Estria, remember?" Dallas answered. "Why...What's wrong?"
"Are you home?"
"Of course --"
Knock, knock!
The sound of someone hammering on the door pulled Dallas from the call. He looked back at his phone, to see that Mark had hung up. Sighing, Dallas put the phone down and walked towards the door to answer, knowing full well who was going to be on the other side.
"What took you," Mark exclaimed as Dallas opened the door. Without waiting for an answer or invitation, he pushed Dallas to the side and stormed into the apartment.
"Come in..." Dallas responded. Going to close the door behind his friend, he found himself unable, as if something were blocking it. Looking around the door, Dallas was surprised to see that his friend hadn't come alone – Cleo stood in the doorway, her foot causing the obstruction.
Hesitantly, glancing up from under her eyelids, she nervously made a move to step into the room. Dallas was confused. He hadn’t seen Mark’s little sister in a couple of years. He knew that brother and sister were very close, but Mark had never brought his sister to Dallas’ apartment in the past. And it couldn’t be a social call, as Mark had never deigned to socialize with his baby sister. He loved her more than any other person living, but he saw her as a child. Mark had never realized that his little sister had grown up – he still treated her like she was twelve. The moment the door was fully open, Cleo skulked into the apartment, not so much as paying Dallas a glance.
"Cleo," he said, watching her as she entered,
"Well this is lovely," Cleo said, false bravado filling her voice. "Nothing says welcome home like blank walls and... and a delicious meal of plain potato for dinner. Yummy." She commented as she glanced into the
attached kitchen area.
"Don't be rude," Mark chastised. He was storming back and forth across the apartment. Due to his size, similar to that of Dallas, it only took him a few short strides to cover the distance too. "The least you can do is say thank you."
"Thank you? For what?" Cleo exclaimed. She fell onto Mark's couch as she did, kicking her feet up. "I told you, you're being ridiculous. Seriously, if you let me handle this, the whole thing would be over by --"
"Ridiculous? Is that what you call that crack-dealer friend of yours -- don't even think about lying to me too. I know who he is. Well, was, anyway. I've worked homicide for ten years and I've never --"
"Hey," Dallas yelled over the bickering of the two. "As great as it is to see you, Mark... and you too Cleo, can someone tell me what is going on?"
Dallas had known Mark for the better part of fifteen years. In high school the two were near inseparable, both harboring similar dreams for when they graduated -- to protect and serve the nation. But where Dallas went the route of the armed services, Mark took a more local path and became a cop.
As for Cleo, Dallas knew her reasonably well, as any friend knows the sister of his best friend. Physically she hadn’t changed much since the last time he’d seen her. She was still stunningly beautiful. If anything, her curves and body were even more sleek, all signs of early adulthood gone and pure woman in her place. But in terms of attitude and general demeanor? Well that seemed to be on par with where it had been when she was a teenager. Entitled and bitchy with a big old chip on her shoulder. Always acting like she had something to prove. Dallas had always figured she was trying to show her brother that she was grown up, and when he wouldn’t see it, and accept her as an equal, she became even more sullen, trying to prove to the world that she didn’t care.
"What – oh right, sorry," Mark said. Calming down slightly, Mark stopped his pacing, turning to face his best friend. "It's Cleo. She's in trouble."
"I'm really not," Cleo insisted.
"Be quiet," Mark growled at her. Dallas could see his best friend doing all he could to control himself.
"She is. Even if she won't admit it."
"OK, OK." Dallas said, trying his best to defuse the tension between the two.
Mark finally started his explanation. "I was working a case yesterday. Disgusting scene, this dealer on the other side of town was literally gutted," he began. "That's all well and good -- albeit a little gruesome. But then Brian, a beat cop that I know, said he saw Cleo and this kid together not three days ago. So I did some looking into it and --"
"I told you. If you let me --", Cleo tried to interject.
"Will you shut up?!" Mark yelled, now well and truly losing his temper. "Anyways, I did some digging and this kid was killed by Drax – a dealer on the east side. Thinks of himself as the kingpin of the east side too. He's a real psychopath, a dangerous one. And, for some reason, he seems to think that Stan and Cleo were involved in some way,” he glanced accusingly at Cleo, “he thinks she has something of his.”
"Involved?" Dallas asked, confused. He didn't know Cleo that well, but he would have been surprised to find that she had fallen onto the wrong side of the law. Sure, she was arrogant, but she wasn't a criminal.
"I don't know to what extent... and Cleo here is insisting that she doesn't know --"
"That's because I don't."
"But that doesn't matter. What does matter is Drax now wants Cleo dead. Like, dead, dead. I know this guy, I know his people. He won't stop until he sorts her out. And... and..."
"OK, OK," Dallas said, walking up to his friend and patting him on the back. "It's fine. I'll find this guy and --"
"No!" Mark exclaimed. "I mean... look, this dude, he’s really dangerous, and I need….." he paused, having difficulty getting it out.
"Then what do you want?" Dallas asked, more confused now. As he heard the story unfold he was sure that Mark was going to ask him to do what Mark, a cop, couldn't – track down Drax and take care of him.
"I want you to take care of Cleo for me. I know you're probably busy... but this is in your wheelhouse and I didn't know who else to ask. And, I trust you to protect her….you're good at this kind of thing and if anyone can watch Cleo and make sure she doesn't... that..."
"Yeah, sure. I mean of course I will," Dallas agreed. He had never seen Mark so scared before. A fact that only served to highlight just how serious the situation actually was, even if Cleo wasn't willing to admit it. "But for how long? What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to find out what’s going on," Mark explained. "We’ve already got guys watching him – that’s part of the reason that I’d rather you watch Cleo. It would be hard for anyone to get to Drax right now without being seen. And I know I won’t worry about her if she’s with you. It should only take a day or two. But if I can clear this up, then... then I can go back to breathing. You know?" Dallas had never had any siblings, so he couldn't empathize fully with Mark's plight. But he knew how much Mark loved his sister, and because of that, Dallas would do anything and everything he could to help.
"Yeah, of course." Dallas said. As he did he glanced at Cleo who made sure that he saw her roll her eyes. "For as long as you need."
"Thanks so much," Mark said, letting out a long sigh. "Seriously, a day. Maybe two." Without another word he turned and stormed towards the door.
"Where are you going?" Cleo asked, jumping up from the couch.
"Where do you think?" Mark answered angrily. "I'm going to go and sort out whatever it is you got --"
"I told you. It's all a misunderstanding. If you just --"
"I don't want to hear it! You're going to stay here and do exactly what Dallas says. Exactly. I'll be back in a few days. And Dallas, thanks again." He reached the door, threw it open and stormed out.
A very succinct silence followed Mark’s exit. Dallas closed the door behind his friend, very aware of the way that Cleo was watching him. With the exception of that attitude of hers, Dallas had to admit that she had become hot since he’d seen her last. Her long hair framed an exquisite face with perfect bone structure, and the rounded curve of her backside practically begged for a spanking. If it wasn't for the fact that she was his best friend's little sister, Dallas would have taken this opportunity to... Damn! He needed to take his cock out of this equation and keep his thoughts on track.
"So..." Dallas began as he closed the door and turned back to face Cleo. She was still standing, arms crossed as she watched Dallas. She wore a look of contempt on her face, as if she had zero respect for him.
"So," she said in reply. "What now? Marshmallows and campfire stories?"
"I was thinking we'd eat," Dallas said. He made his way back toward the kitchen where the unchopped potatoes still sat.
"Good idea. You eat and I'll go." Without another word, she went straight for the door.
It had been clear from the moment she arrived that she thought this whole thing was unnecessary and beneath her. She viewed Dallas as some form of babysitter that she could easily outsmart and overpower. But that was about to change.
Before she so much as got within reaching distance of the door, Dallas was on her. He grabbed her by the waist, lifted her into the air and launched her back onto the couch.
"What the hell are you doing?!" she screamed as she flew into the cushions.
"Stopping you from leaving," Dallas said simply.
"And breaking my neck while you're at it? If Mark heard that you did that --"
"He'd probably say I should just tie you up and save myself the hassle. Look, I know you think this is a joke. But Mark clearly doesn't. So, I'm going to assume it isn't either. This means that I will do whatever I have to, to keep you here. Understand?" As he spoke, he stood over her, towering above her like the mountain that he was.
"Ok, Ok," Cleo relented, taking Dallas in. It was evident that she wasn't going to be overpowering him any time soon. Her eyes traveled slowly from the top his face, down the length of his body. "So, what then?"
"Well like I said, we can eat." Mark turned and headed back towards the kitchen. "And while we do, you can tell me what’s really going on."
"I told you. Nothing is. I knew Stan, but that doesn't mean it has anything to do with me. Just a bad coincidence."
"And how did you know Stan?"
"I bought weed off him, how'd you think?" she said evasively.
"And that's it?" Dallas prompted, as he reached for the knife.
"That's it."
Dallas watched her from where he stood. He had been trained to tell when people were lying to him. And right then, it could have not been clearer that she was lying through her teeth. But he didn't care. He had a simple job to do, keep her in the apartment. It wasn't one he relished, but one he was going to do nonetheless.
Regardless of how much of a pain Cleo clearly was and how much of a hell she was going to make the next few days.
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Hard Instincts Page 14