Life&Limb (PASS Series Book 2)

by Freya Barker

  “I know what you mean by bird, Mr. Mazur. Please continue.”

  “Right. So I was half-carrying Brad when the IED went off. I lost part of my left leg and Brad almost all of his right one. We ended up in the same hospital.” I uncross my legs and lean forward, looking her straight in the eye. “You Honor, Brad couldn’t even handle it if someone closed the curtains around his hospital bed. Like a lot of us, he suffers from PTSD, but one of his triggers is being confined to small spaces. It’s one of the reasons he ended up on the streets. At the shelter where he stays, his bed is under a window and his door is always wide open.”

  I stop talking. I want to tell her what he confessed to me, half delirious, right before we hit the IED, but I’ve already shared too much that isn’t mine to share.

  She doesn’t say anything but starts flipping through the file in front of her. I sit back and shrug at Hank. I’ve done what I can.

  “Your Honor, if I may?” the DA pipes up.

  “Just a minute, Mr. Russell,” she interrupts, holding up her hand as she turns to me. “Mr. Mazur, first of all, I’m sorry for the loss of your leg and I thank you for your service.” Then she turns back to Russell. “Now you may speak.”

  “Your Honor, on closer investigation, my office has come to the conclusion the circumstantial evidence we have in this case against Mr. Carey at this point in time is not sufficient to obtain a conviction. My office has no objection to the motion as submitted by Mr. Frederick, release without prejudice.”

  “Perhaps if your office had more closely examined the evidence provided, you could have saved the court precious time.” She pins him with a glare and I’m glad I’m not in his shoes.

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  Forty minutes later, Yanis and I are waiting in the parking lot when Hank leads a rough-looking Brad out of the county jail.

  I clap him on the shoulder.

  “Good to see you, buddy.”

  “Yeah, thanks,” he mumbles, his eyes darting around.

  “Let’s get you out of here,” I suggest.

  “And go where?”

  “Buddy, I’ll take you anywhere you wanna go.”

  He hesitates for a moment and then he says, “Shelter.”

  “You’ve got it. Hop in front.” I let him get in beside Yanis before turning to Hank, extending a hand. “Thank you, brother.”

  “My pleasure. Take care of him. I’ll be in touch.”

  I get in the back seat of the Yukon and pull out my phone.

  Me: Bringing Brad to the shelter. He may need you.

  Her response is instantaneous.

  Willa: OMG. I’ll be here. Thank you!

  Chapter Twenty

  Willa

  “And I bottle-fed two kittens someone brought in. They barely had their eyes open. Oh, and Twister followed me around all day. She’s so cute. You should get a dog, Auntie Will.”

  Britt hasn’t stopped rambling since we picked her up at the shelter.

  “Maybe some day, honey.”

  Her enthusiasm is like a balm on the raw emotions left by my impromptu session with Brad.

  I let her voice drift to the background, my mind going to earlier this afternoon.

  When Dimas walked Brad into my office at the shelter, he looked like some of the patients I’d encounter at Landstuhl, brought in freshly injured from the front lines and still shell-shocked.

  Dimas left with a quick press of his lips to my forehead, closing the door behind him. I sat down across from the chair Brad had taken and stayed silent, waiting for him to lead the way. It had taken a few drawn out minutes, but eventually he started talking. I wasn’t sure where he was in his mind at first, but then he mentioned he felt like drowning in the ever-present dust every time he took a breath. I clued in he was in that underground bunker in Iraq.

  I let him talk his way into the present, only every so often nudging him along. By the time I could sense he was in the here and now, his eyes clear, mine were red and gritty and my emotions were rubbed raw.

  I’d said no more than maybe a dozen words during the session, but I’d touched him, tentative and brief at first, attempting to keep him connected, but eventually I was leaning forward holding on firmly to his hand.

  My reward had been a bone-crushing hug and a whispered, “Thank you.”

  The moment Brad left my office Dimas slipped in and, taking one look at my face, wrapped me tightly in his arms. He told me he’d run out to get his truck from the office—his brother apparently had been driving—and had been waiting outside the rest of the time.

  “I’m fine,” I’d mumbled into his shirt before leaning back. “We should get going.”

  When Dimas pulls his truck in beside my RAV in the driveway, Britt is the first one out, running up to the door.

  “That was a good call by Bree, setting her up at the shelter,” Dimas says, as he waits for me to get out.

  “Absolutely,” I agree. “Although I have a feeling she’s going to hound me until I get a dog—no pun intended.”

  He chuckles beside me as we join Britt on the front steps.

  I like the sound of his chuckle. Deep and resonating, it makes me want to burrow into him, absorb it into my skin. In the two nights since my niece arrived, we’ve done little else than snuggle up in bed. Usually spooning, my back to his front, and although the feeling of his larger body surrounding me is bliss, I already miss him inside me.

  “How about we try for spaghetti and meatballs tonight?” Dimas suggests, walking into the kitchen.

  I snort and raise an eyebrow.

  “Hope you’re not looking at me to attempt that.”

  “How hard can it be? We have all the basic ingredients,” he offers, when Britt pipes up.

  “I can show you,” she says with all the confidence of a preteen.

  I try not to look too doubtful. After all, it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch of the imagination a twelve-year-old could outcook me.

  “Grandma showed me.”

  Well, what do you know? Just because I avoided the kitchen like the plague doesn’t mean Britt didn’t actually pay attention to my mother’s tutelage.

  “Perfect.” Dimas grins at her. “I’ve made it before and it was halfway edible, so between the two of us we should be able to make it actually taste good.”

  “Hey. What about me?”

  Britt turns to me and pats my arm.

  “You can roll the balls,” she decrees.

  I shoot Dimas a scathing look when he busts out laughing.

  It’s a little after nine when Britt can’t keep her eyes open and heads to bed already half-asleep.

  We just finished watching an episode of Bones, a show I was afraid might be too graphic at times, but Britt assured me she watches it all the time and has seen “way worse.”

  Dinner had been good; my niece appears to have paid close attention because the spaghetti was almost as I remember it growing up. As delegated, I rolled meatballs and stirred. That was about as much responsibility they dared hand over. I did, however, pay close attention to what they were doing. You never know, I might learn a thing or two.

  “Beer?” Dimas asks, getting up from the couch.

  “Please.”

  I watch his ass as he bends over to grab a couple of bottles from the bottom of the fridge. It’s a good ass. No. It’s a great ass. He doesn’t wear his jeans as tight as some, I assume in part because of his artificial limb, but it certainly doesn’t take away from his nicely sculpted behind.

  “Are you checking me out?” he asks, grinning when he catches me with my head bent back for a better look.

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” I fire back, but I do it grinning as he stalks toward me.

  My head bends back even farther when he leans in for an upside down kiss, before rounding the couch to sit next to me.

  “Tell me what happened?” I ask, when he hands me a bottle.

  I sit sideways with my knee pulled up on the seat, sipping my beer as he tells me abou
t the meeting in the judge’s chambers. His hand is resting loosely on my knee as he talks. His touch is comforting and already familiar.

  “I popped into the office earlier when I was picking up my truck. Bree had been busy chatting with her connection at the GJPD and found out some interesting information.”

  That has me sit a little straighter.

  “Like what?”

  “For one thing, it turns out that your tip about Dr. Brantley Parker was never followed up on. The DA apparently called in to follow up on it this morning, and the new detective says there was no mention of Parker in the case file.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah, apparently he got so loud in the chief’s office, half the force could hear him. Being accused of corruption in his ranks did not make the chief happy. After the DA left, he called everyone on the mat who’d even looked at that file. Apparently it’s loosened some dirt on your favorite couple; Bergland and Craig.”

  “Good. I hate them.”

  He reaches out and strokes the back of his fingers down my cheek. Such a sweet gesture that seems entirely out of place for the rugged man before me, and yet it’s all Dimas.

  “It’s great,” he confirms. “The whole incident prompted the DA to agree to Brad’s release. Not that he’s out of the woods yet; the evidence, although circumstantial, keeps him on the list of suspects, but the sole focus is no longer only on him.”

  The fingers of the hand on my knee slowly stretch up the inside of my leg and a warm tingle starts deep in my belly.

  “What about the case against me?” I ask, a little hoarse and all too aware of his touch.

  “Her contact didn’t have anything specific on that, but I’m sure after this morning that evidence will get the proper scrutiny as well. It was all a little too convenient…”

  His hand is slowly traveling to the apex of my thighs and I have a hard time concentrating on his words.

  “Sweetheart?”

  “Mmmm,” I mumble, my eyes closing and my head falling back against the couch when his fingers brush along the seam of my jeans, creating a deliciously subtle sensation.

  “I was asking if you were tired.”

  My face cracks a grin at the promise of my bed.

  “Exhausted.”

  Dimas

  I watch her pupils dilate as I strip out of my clothes by the side of the bed. She doesn’t even have to move to have an effect on me.

  I sit down with my back to her to take off my leg. I’ve been respectful of the fact there’s an underage girl in the house. I’ve kept a firm control on my need for Willa since Britt’s been here, but after a day like today, I need to feel her around me.

  First there’d been the story of Brad’s rescue. It’s one he and I share, but never talk about. Sharing it with others—some of whom I don’t even know—was not easy. I kept it as matter-of-fact as I could and left lots unsaid. Still, even if I didn’t say the words, I relived the memories of what was left to read between the lines.

  Yanis said little as we drove Brad to the shelter, but once we dropped him off and we were on our way to pick up my truck, he talked. Asking me why I’d never talked to him about that incident. All he knew was I ran into an IED in Iraq.

  Jake is the only one who knows a lot of it because he’d been part of the same unit at the time. He doesn’t talk about what he’s seen either; it’s not that easy to explain what things are like out there. It’s one thing to share stuff with guys who’ve experienced it, but not easy to talk about with civilians. Not even my own brother.

  Trying to explain why I’d kept the story from him had not been easy. He seemed upset. Yanis hadn’t been particularly supportive when I first enlisted with Jake, many moons ago. Part of it was he didn’t like the idea of something happening to me, but I suspect there was also resentment. I was bailing after he spent most of his teenage years parenting me since Mom and Dad had their heads in the clouds. Quite literally most of the time.

  I was a bit rebellious. Didn’t want to be held back or weighed down by responsibilities like he seemed to be, so I took off. It took him a few years after I left, but he eventually left Encampment, Wyoming—where he’d served a few years as a police officer on the small force—as well. Resigned to leaving my parents to what they were, a couple of hippie potheads, he moved to Grand Junction, where after a short stint with the GJPD, he eventually started up PASS. After my honorable discharge for medical reasons, I joined him.

  We get along fine, but he’ll always be the big brother, which is why I’m sure he’s upset.

  Finally there’d been Brad, who seemed a mess, worrying me, and Willa who looked so incredibly sad after talking to him.

  “Dimas?” I hear her pensive voice behind me and realize I’ve been sitting here lost in thought. “Are you okay?”

  I turn to face her and with my eyes locked on hers, reach out to undo the fly of her jeans, pulling them along with her underwear down her legs. Then I crawl up and silently divest her of her shirt and bra until she lies naked on the bed, the question lingering in her eyes.

  I lower myself on top of her so we’re skin to skin, her soft breasts yielding against my chest as I give her my weight. I know I’m large and possibly too heavy for her, but Willa is strong, built to last. Her curves able to support my body. Me.

  Our faces are inches apart when I finally answer her.

  “Now I am,” I whisper, brushing my lips over hers. “Do you realize how right you are for me?”

  A blush creeps up her cheeks and her mouth pulls into a soft smile, even as she shakes her head.

  I lift my head a little so I can see her better.

  “Yeah. Tough as nails under all those beautiful soft curves. You fit me perfectly.”

  Her hand drifts up and she lets her fingers trail along my jaw, brushing my beard.

  “I think so too,” she whispers, lifting her face for a kiss.

  As I lazily explore her mouth with my tongue, I move a hand down her body. I hook her behind the knee and pull up her leg as I roll us on our sides, our mouths still fused. Then I run the palm of my hand up the back of her thigh, smooth it over her lush ass cheek and dip my fingers in her crease, finding her warm, slick, and ready for me.

  I quickly reach behind me to grab a condom from the bedside drawer where I stuck them and have myself covered in seconds.

  “Dimas…”

  “Yes, sweetheart,” I respond, as I roll her to her back and settle myself between her legs.

  “We have to be quiet.”

  “We will.”

  I brace myself on my elbow and take my cock in the other hand, teasing her clit with the crown until she sighs my name again.

  “Right here, baby,” I murmur against her lips, as I slowly enter her. “I’m right where I want to be.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Dimas

  “They’ve got him,” Bree announces when I walk into the office.

  “Got who?”

  I turn my chair to face her and sit down at my desk.

  “Krupcek. I just got a call from my contact who watched them bring him in.”

  I was hoping it to be Brantley Parker, but I guess Krupcek would be a good place to start. At least they’re actually investigating now, instead of making the pieces try to fit with a suspect in mind.

  I wish I could be a fly on the wall, but unfortunately we would have to make do with whatever information Bree’s connection can feed us.

  “And get this,” she continues, “the chief himself is sitting in on the interview.”

  “Guess he doesn’t want to chance the ire of the DA again,” I observe. “Says something about the faith he has in his staff, or lack thereof. Bet that’s going over well.”

  “From what I hear everyone’s been on eggshells. Bergland was apparently suspended first thing Tuesday morning and Craig has been put on desk duty.”

  Good to know that asshole, Bergland, has been at least temporarily put out of commission, although I’d love to know what hi
s angle is in this case. Why he was so quick on the trigger, especially with Willa. How was he so quick on the trigger? The victim was found by the railroad tracks, not that far from the shelter, but how were they so quick to focus on Willa as their main suspect? From what I hear they supposedly received an anonymous tip—Hank found that out—but what would motivate Bergland and Craig to consider that enough to take her in?

  “Radar!” I call over my shoulder.

  “Yeah?” He sticks his head out of the door.

  “Can you get access to financial information? Bank accounts and the like?”

  I know what I’m asking him, but in our line of work the boundaries are often blurry. We’re not law enforcement bound by rules and protocol, but we’re also not above the law. It just means we have to be very, very careful how we do it.

  Radar is a wiz at sneaking in back doors, pulling information, and sneaking right back out without anyone the wiser.

  “Who are we looking at?”

  “Darryn Bergland,” Bree answers for me.

  “Ah, the good Officer Bergland,” Radar mocks. “Shouldn’t be difficult.”

  “Look for nice chunks of money coming in. Spending patterns. Anything that looks a little fishy on a police officer’s salary,” I suggest. “Oh, and while you’re at it, you may as well check Detective Craig too.”

  “Be careful, though,” my brother’s voice sounds behind me and I turn to see him walk in, his eyes on Radar. “You don’t want to leave any trace behind.”

  “Sure, Boss.”

  “What did I miss?” Yanis asks, propping a hip on my desk. Bree fills him in on the latest and he listens attentively. “What about Parker? Do we know what’s happening with him?”

  “Haven’t heard anything, but I’ll see what I can find out,” Bree says, turning to her phone.

  Yanis looks at me. “I’m on my way to meet Jake at The Red Apple for that installation we missed on Monday. It shouldn’t take us more than a day. In the meantime, I’d like you to work with Bree cross-referencing the main players in this shit show. Don’t leave anyone out. See if you get any hits.”