by CP Smith
When Bill laughed then replied, “Sorry, Nicola, you’ll have to slow down,” Dallas turned to his partner, his brows raised in question as to why she was calling him.
“No, darlin’, you can’t claim self-defense if you actively plot someone’s murder. Who do you want to kill?” Bill asked, holding the phone away from his ear while smiling at Dallas. His forehead soon pulled into a frown though as he listened to her explain further.
“Can I claim self-defense for bludgeoning someone for grabbing my breasts?” Nicola shouted into the phone. Dallas could hear what sounded like other women screaming in the background and then a deep voice growled what sounded like, “You fuckin’ cunt.”
Bill had put the call on speakerphone about the time “Fuckin’ cunt” was shouted and Dallas saw red. He barked out, “Where the hell are you?” but didn’t get a reply as the women erupted in outrage.
“You can’t call me a cunt,” Nicola shouted from the other end, “You’re the miscreant who felt me up.”
Grabbing Bill’s phone off the counter, he demanded again, “Nicola, where are you, and who the fuck grabbed you?” Before he got an answer, however, the call ended right as he heard shouting from what sounded like her brothers.
“I gotta go,” Dallas barked out as he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed dispatch. Dallas had pulled up her house address before leaving for Bill’s and he hoped like hell that that was where she was. Two minutes later, he had a patrol car on the way and his legs hugging his Harley as he blazed down the street toward her home.
When he arrived, he knew he’d been right on the money. Chaos had ensued on her front lawn and he watched her brothers pound a man repeatedly. In addition, to that, Nicola was in the mix shouting at her brothers, “Stop, before you kill him.”
Dallas jumped off his bike, rushed to huddle, and pulled one of the twins from the man ordering, “Back off.” He pulled the other brother off the man, who was down on the ground covering his head, as blood dripped from his nose.
“Someone needs to explain what the fuck is goin’ on,” he roared.
Nicola, who seemed to be in shock that Dallas had arrived out of the blue, and was hauling her brothers off the asshole, gained her composure quickly. “The girls and I were drinking and Kasey let slip I wanted to get laid in the near future. This idiot thought I meant by the next available man,” she shouted incensed. “I was in my bathroom washing my hands and he came in and pinned me to the counter. Then he copped a feel even though I told him to stop. The girls heard me shout and came busting in, so I grabbed a tool off the counter and whacked him in the nose.” When she was done, Nicola bent at the waist and shouted at the prone man, “And just so you know, I’d do it again. No, means no, you big jerk!”
“Not only are you fired, Shockley, but you’d better watch your back,” one of the twins threatened, pushing against Dallas’ hand at his chest.
Turning to face the man who’d assaulted Nicola, it was all Dallas could do to keep from letting her brother go and dealing with the man himself. Thankfully, years of training kicked in. Dallas pulled out a pair of cuffs, rolled him onto his stomach, and put a knee to his back applying more pressure than was needed. Then he cuffed the man’s hands behind his back as he reined in his control.
“You have the right to remain silent,” Dallas bit out.
“Jail won’t save you from me,” a twin growled.
Jerking his head around, Dallas had had enough. He knew he needed her brothers out of the equation before he lost control of the situation. Looking up at Nicola, he demanded, “Get your brothers inside before I arrest them as well.”
Still in shock that Dallas was at her home, Nicola ignored his request and asked, “How did you know to come?”
“I was at Bill’s when you called. Now get your brothers in the house.”
“You came running when you heard I was in trouble?” she gasped.
Dallas didn’t have time to play twenty questions, so he softened his voice and asked instead of ordered, hoping to get her cooperation. “Babe, please take your brothers inside and let me deal with this asshole before this escalates, all right?”
He watched her eyes widen in surprise at his request. Thankfully, she listened this time and told her brothers, “Righty-ho, you heard the man. Get inside, he’s got this covered.”
Surprisingly, the twins listened to their sister, and headed toward the house while glaring at the man on the ground. When she reached her front door, he saw her friends peering out from the inside staring at him with wide eyes. Nicola turned when she reached the door and looked back at Dallas. He watched as a small grin pulled across her mouth. Something he could only describe as calm filtered through his body when she pushed a strand of silky hair behind her ear, grinning shyly at him before she closed the door. When she was inside, he kept his eyes on the door for a moment, wondering what it would be like to come home to that every day. Peaceful he figured. Looking down at the man in his custody, his jaw clenched in anger when he thought about how his hands had touched Nicola. Leaning down, so only he could hear, Dallas mumbled quietly before reading him his Miranda Rights.
“You fucked with the wrong woman, asshole. Now you’re headed to jail and I’m gonna have a real close look at your record. I promise you, if you so much as breathe in her direction again, I’ll bury you, do you understand?”
Once Dallas had interviewed everyone inside the house, and secured one Micah Shockley in the back of a squad car, he headed back toward the front door of Nicola’s Craftsman home. He hadn’t taken in the house when he first arrived, but now, as he approached, he was impressed by the masculine lines of the exposed rafters and beams. Her house wasn’t painted as many older homes were, but stained a rich brown, giving it a rustic feel that appealed to him. As he took the steps of her wide front porch the over-sized front door, that looked as if it had been fashioned out of 12x12 timber planks and stained to match the house, flew open. Nicola stood there staring at Dallas in her bare feet, a pair of cut off denim shorts, and an Eskimo Joe’s T-shirt. She’d pulled her hair up into a high ponytail since going inside and now looked about sixteen, instead of the woman that she was. Christ, she was Sandra Dee in a nutshell, and it set his back teeth aching at how damn much he wanted to rip that ponytail out of her hair, and then wrap it around his hand as he devoured those full lips.
When he reached the front door, Dallas stopped and looked down at Nicola. He watched the way the sunlight highlighted the different shades of gold mixed in with the lighter blonde of her hair. He noted that not only were her eyes green, but the color of light jade. They reminded him of a tropical ocean with white sandy beaches and warm summer breezes. She was tiny; the top of her head barely reached his shoulders. She had small round breasts, a slim, yet womanly figure, shapely legs, and a heart shaped ass, if his memory served correctly. She was an all-American girl all right, born and raised in a state where baseball and apple pie still meant something. Her Sunday afternoon barbecue shouldn’t have been interrupted by filth. By a man who thought cornering a woman half his size, and putting his dirty hands on her, because she had a few drinks, was his right.
Taking in the house, the yard with its flowers, the best friends who had her back, and brothers who’d kill for her, Dallas decided he was done waiting. He wasn’t gonna go slow, he wasn’t gonna see how it went, he was going in fast and hard because a woman like Nicola was one in a million, and he wasn’t about to let her slip through his fingers.
With this in mind, he put his hand to her stomach and moved her back into her home. When he’d closed the door, she was looking up at him confused, so he decided to enlighten her.
Dallas moved toward Nicola until she retreated and he had her pinned to the wall. He put his hands on the wall, near both sides of her head, and then leaned in close to her ear.
“Meet me at the station tomorrow at ten a.m. and I’ll show you the ropes,” he whispered, then ran his nose along her ear, grinning when she shuddered.
“Okay, I can do ten,” she whispered back on a shaky breath laced with desire.
Hearing the longing in her voice, Dallas moved in closer, pressing his body into hers to make his point. He took hold of her neck, both thumbs caressing her jaw as he lowered his head and looked into her eyes. Nicola’s own grew wide as his head descended; positioning his lips a hairbreadth away from hers. Then finally, when he felt her pulse pounding rapidly under his hands, saw her eyes hooded with desire at his closeness, and felt her breath coming in gasps, he ordered, “The next time you feel the need to get drunk with thoughts of getting laid, you call me, and no one else, understand?” When her breath hitched at his boldness, he leaned in, nipped her bottom lip, and then touched it with his tongue to ease the sting. He then released her and watched with satisfaction as she shivered from head to toe from his touch. When he heard one of her brothers clear his throat, he grinned slowly, seductively at Nicola, then winked, tugged her ponytail, turned, and walked out the door, smiling when he heard her whisper, “Hell’s Bells.”
Eight
My breath caught as I eyed the Highland warlord on his great beast. Perched on an emerald hilltop with mist floating low on the horizon, he looked almost mythical. His Herculean size showed no softening around the middle, nay; he was fit from daily training for a warlord would die on a field of battle if he didn’t keep his best weapon, his body, honed and ready. His long dark hair was tied at the nape of his neck, his body covered in his clan’s green and gold plaid. God’s truth, he looked like Zeus surveying the land from atop Mount Olympus. When his head turned slowly toward me, he looked like Lucifer himself as he began to undress me with his honey-colored eyes. His slow grin told me my maiden’s sensibilities were in danger so I picked up the hem of my skirts and started running back down the hill. Aye, I ran all right, but the brute’s mighty beast roared to life and he flew down the hill cutting me off as he came to a screeching halt in front of me.
“The next time you feel the need to get drunk with thoughts of getting laid, you call me, and no one else, understand?” the honey-eyed archangel whispered as he reached out his large calloused hand . . .
Waking with a start, I listened as a motorcycle roared down the street mixing with my fantasy. I could still see warlord Dallas from my dream reaching out to me, so I closed my eyes again to soak in the memory.
It was Monday morning and in a few short hours, I was supposed to meet Dallas for a ride-along to see firsthand how detectives conducted interviews. I was still in shock that he’d shown up like some kind of White Knight saving my brothers from possible prosecution. And when he’d pressed me against the wall and made my head spin with his warm breath and hard body as he made it clear where he stood about wanting me, I couldn’t speak. The whole day was like a crazy mixed-up dream starting when that asshole had cornered me in the bathroom.
He’d come up behind me as I washed my hands, rubbing his crotch on my ass while grabbing hold of my boobs. I’d been pissed, not scared, because I knew the girls were in the house with me. I’d also thought I could handle the dickhead. Sadly, I’d been mistaken. He was stronger and more determined than I thought he’d be when I elbowed him in the gut. He’d only grinned at me disdainfully as if my saying “let go” meant nothing. His callous behavior told me I needed help, so I’d screamed bloody murder to bring the girls running since my brothers had left the house.
Luckily, the door hadn’t locked when he shut it (another item to add to my growing to-do list for the house) and the girls came busting in about the time I was reaching for a crescent wrench. When they burst in, they’d distracted him long enough for me to whack him across the nose so he’d let go. Cursing had ensued as he grabbed a towel to staunch the flow of blood running down his face, but that didn’t stop the girls from attacking. While he was busy warding off the attack of the BFF’s, I grabbed my phone and the card Bill Reed had handed me because I was sure a homicide was about to be committed by one of the girls, but most assuredly one of my brothers when they got back from Lowes.
Why Detective Reed? Well, I’d had just enough alcohol in my system that I wasn’t thinking clearly. Therefore, calling Reed instead of 911 made complete sense to me at the time. He was, after all, an expert in all things murder. Of course, unbeknownst to me, Dallas was at his house when I called. While I was talking to Reed, Finn and Bo had arrived home and of course, the ass kicking had commenced. Dallas had shown up ten minutes later gunning his bike as he sprinted up the street, jumping off agilely as he took in the scene.
Lord, it was like watching Sir Lancelot meets Jax Teller the way he rode in on that silver Harley. Then he’d taken control, calmed my brothers, and called me “Babe” forcing every idea I’d had about him being arrogant, and not worth my time, to fly right out the window. In fact, it flew so far out the window it detoured south and was taking an extended vacation in the South of France because I hear the summers there are quite mild.
After taking control, he arrested the creep, marched up my steps, and then pinned me against a wall while I’d tried to remain standing on noodle legs.
All my life I’d waited for a man like him, a man who was strong, protective, and above all a man’s man. One who acted like a man not a watered-down version of what the male’s species should be like. I knew some women thought it makes our gender weak to relay on a man for anything, that as women we should strive to stand on our own two feet, to live our lives with or without a man. However, I’m of the opinion that it’s in our genetic makeup to rely on men, that as women we seek out the strongest, most virile men for a reason. Take for instance my books. My heroes are the biggest bunch of macho men that has ever graced the pages of a book, and my readers beg for bigger, bolder Neanderthals every time I complete one. As women, we’re attracted to men that we know will protect us because our DNA is programmed that way. Who among us wants to be the one who gets up when there is a bump in the night? Equal pay and equal rights is one thing, but when it comes to choosing someone who will protect you and your children, do you want Peewee Herman or Conan the Barbarian?
Please, the Barbarian would win by a landslide.
“Oh, my God, what should I wear?” I asked the wall as I contemplated my upcoming day and close quarters with Dallas. I glanced at my clock and knew I had to decide quickly, and then jump in the shower. With no time to spare, I grabbed my cell off my nightstand and called the Fashionista of our sisterhood—Angela.
“Comfy jeans, a tight tee, and leave your hair down so he wants to touch it,” she answered like a woman who’d known me half my life and lived inside my head.
“You don’t think I should dress professionally?”
“Do you, or do you not, wear sweats when you write and forget to shower for a few days?”
“Well, yeah, I get on a roll—”
“Then your professional attire will not give him ideas about the two of you, they’ll send him running for the hills,” she broke in, then mumbled, “Shit, gotta go. See you at Gypsy’s after work. I can’t wait to dissect your day.”
Okay, rude, but she had a point. Jeans it is then.
One hour later I was scrubbed, buffed, landscaped (precautionary), and ready to drive downtown to the police station. I fed Snape and Simi, who were eyeing me as if they could tell I was strung tight with anticipation, grabbed my notebook, jumped into my beetle and left.
The whole drive I told myself to act naturally, be professional, you’re there to watch and learn, not rip his clothes off. Today, he’s doing you a favor and nothing more. You’re two professionals spending a day together mano a mano or mano a womano. Just play it cool, Nicola, don’t read too much into the lip bite, or the wall press.
Yeah, right!
Twenty minutes later, I walked around the corner to the offices led by the receptionist to find Dallas talking on the phone, dressed in tight jeans, a black tee, and his black boots. Upon seeing all that was Dallas, my mouth dried up, my heart started pounding, and all thoughts flew from my brain. When h
e looked up and saw me walking toward him, he winked, causing me to stop dead in my tracks and gape.
Clearly, his winks were some sort of superpower, because I swear that if he asked me to jump from the roof of a tall building and then winked, I’d jump.
Okay, enough is enough, time to pull on my big girl panties and be a professional. He cannot make me melt like butter if I don’t allow it.
So, with a deep breath, I pushed my shoulders back and off I went to walk the remaining ten feet separating us. He watched me cross the distance and the closer I got, the twitchier his mouth became. By the time I was standing in front of him, he was biting his lower lip in an attempt to keep from grinning. I said attempt, once I was standing in front of him, he let go of that lush bottom lip and it pulled into a sexy grin.
Right, apparently I wasn’t as successful as I thought showing I was unaffected.
I ducked my head quickly before my eyes glazed over, and became fascinated with the notes I’d taken from my earlier conversation with Bill. Thinking I needed to look serious, I pulled out a pen and underlined words in an attempt to look as if I wasn’t affected by the man. While attempting this ridiculous charade, a sheet of paper was pushed into my line of sight and wiggled to capture my attention. I grabbed the sheet without looking up and saw it was an “Exempt from Liability” form. Scribbling my signature, I handed it back just as Dallas hung up his phone.
There was a moment of silence between us as if he was waiting for me to say something, so I raised my eyes to his and that’s when the grin pulled into a full-blown smile.
Man, he had a great smile.
My own lips were twitching as I tried to hold back a stupid grin when he finally said, “Hey.”