Cuffed & Claimed

by Lori King

  “Hmm.” She gathers her hair and pushes it over one shoulder after handing me the water. I can’t help but stare at the uncovered skin on her opposite shoulder. She’s not wearing a scarf and it looks so fucking soft. “Maybe because you didn’t like my dog and you gave me your mean stare whenever I saw you.”

  She’s right. I haven’t been the most congenial next door neighbor. “Daisy,” I tip the water bottle in his direction, “made me grumpy.” I don’t tell her that her boyfriend kept me from pushing the dog aside and giving her the famous Street come-on.

  “I took Daisy through obedience training when he was six months old. He took to it and I work with him whenever I can.” She gives me a sly look. “I could have called him off, but I enjoyed irritating you.”

  I wipe my mouth. “I deduced that the night I let him out to do his business. Had to call a friend and ask how the hell to get him outside after I told him to sit.”

  Her smile is full, with beautiful white teeth and a very small dimple in her left cheek. “You remember you have court tomorrow morning, right?” I ask.

  “Yes, Mr. Calendar. I remember I have court, and since I’m getting up early, I need to be heading home.”

  I swing my arm out and loop it around her waist when she walks past me. I pull her in and breathe in her scent. “Stay,” I say in a husky voice. “I’m no longer tired.”

  She turns slightly in my arms and looks down at the watch on her wrist. “I need to be up too early, and I need some sleep. So do you. Tomorrow is Friday. Why don’t we go out to dinner and have a sleepover at my house afterward?”

  She’s right, but I have an ache in my chest at the thought of her leaving me tonight. I want her to stay. Instead of saying how I feel and sounding pathetic, I kiss her cheek and release her. “Thank you for bringing dinner over so late. Get some sleep.”

  She looks away and walks to the front door. She turns and gives me a little wave as she and Daisy walk out.

  12

  I’m almost asleep, but something’s bothering me. I get up and walk to the living room. I peer out the front window and stare sleepily at the empty space where Shelby’s car should be. Son of a bitch. She’s out doing her do-good bullshit. I’m instantly awake and angry. Also hell of worried.

  I’m driving to Central Avenue within ten minutes. It’s eleven thirty when I hit the section of town known for fulfilling every man’s desire, if he’s willing to pay. These aren’t the high-dollar escorts by any means. Most of the ladies here have drug habits and other assorted problems.

  My first pass is non-productive. On the second, I notice a commotion on my right and crane my neck just in time to see Shelby fly backward and land on her ass. I pull my truck to the side of the road and charge out the door.

  A large woman dressed in skintight spandex with more hanging out than can be controlled by the unforgiving material is standing over Shelby with her hands at her waist.

  “I tol’ you get lost. Don’ need yo goddamn help. I gotta business to run and you not helpin’.”

  I should let this behemoth kick Shelby’s ass as a lesson. I really should. “Back up,” I say instead.

  The woman glares at me over her shoulder and then turns her full attention my way. “Well, daddy, you be needin’ some half and half this fine evenin’ or how about a nice titty fuck for five?”

  Shelby’s eyes widen before she squints up at me. I’m guessing it’s anger in her eyes, but that doesn’t come close to describing how I feel.

  “The woman you just sent to her ass is with me,” I tell the hooker. “Now back the fuck up and find someplace where I can’t see you.”

  The woman’s eyes narrow and she gives me the once-over before stopping at my gun and badge that are clipped to my waist. Mumbling profanities under her breath, she strides away on five-inch heels that look too delicate to support her large frame. I reach down for Shelby’s hand, which she’s reluctant to lift. I don’t blame her. I’m too angry to speak at the moment.

  She eventually places her hand in mine, and I heft her none too gently off the cement. I pull her closer and wrap my arm around her waist. I don’t ask where her car is because I don’t give a fuck. I steer her to my truck, open the passenger door, and practically throw her inside.

  “Look,” she squeaks when the Street stare comes into play, “my boss at HHW knows I’m here. I need to text him every hour so he knows I’m okay. We put this in place because of the current situation.”

  Seeing red just went from something I’ve never experienced to the only way to describe my current level of pissed off. I can’t look at her as I drive through the streets. “The current situation being three dead women killed by a monster who’s on the lookout for his next victim. That next victim will be stabbed in both arms and legs deep enough to have an entry and exit wounds. Then she’ll be raped, and before she’s dead, he’ll slice her from throat to pelvis and play in the blood. Only then will he slice her throat and kill her.” My head snaps in her direction. “That situation?” I look back at the dark street. The media doesn’t have all this information, and I shouldn’t be giving it to Shelby. At this point, I’m too damn angry to care.

  Shelby turns her head and peers out the side window. I concentrate on driving and keeping my truck in the lane.

  “I need my car,” she whispers petulantly.

  I just bet she does. “We’ll pick it up in the morning before court.” She remains quiet after that, which is in her best interest. I seethe the entire way home. “Don’t move,” I bark after parking in my driveway. I march around, open her door, and not-so-gently assist her down. I keep a tight hold on her wrist as I head to my front door.

  “Daisy needs to go out.”

  I change direction and head to Shelby’s house. She pulls her key from her pocket. A set of headlights passes by and I only notice because the high beams are on. Most likely a drunk driver and frankly, right now I just don’t give a shit. Daisy runs up to us when the door opens. With a slight whine, he licks Shelby’s hand and ignores me. I’m guessing he’s reading my foul mood.

  Shelby able to shake her hand out of mine only because I release it. “You can go home. I won’t be going anywhere without a car,” she grumbles.

  “Not happening. Daisy can stay at my place. I need sleep and the only way that’s happening is if you’re in bed with me.”

  Her jaw sets stubbornly and I want nothing more than to pick her up and put her over my shoulder. “You’re basically kidnapping me?” she complains.

  I take a deep breath to try to calm myself. “I’m doing what the judge told me to do. After tomorrow you’ll be out of my hair.” Harsh, but I’m in a harsh mood.

  “With that attitude, you’ll be eating a lot more TV dinners.”

  I follow her as she marches to the back of her house. She angrily pulls a nightshirt from one of her dresser drawers and storms into her bathroom. Daisy lets out another low whine and I rub my hand across his head. I think it soothes us both. Shelby walks out a few minutes later with a small black bag slung over her shoulder.

  We head back to the living room and I open the front door. Daisy charges past me and runs out into the night. Shelby shoves me aside and yells Daisy’s name after the dog takes off down the street.

  “Daisy, get back here,” she yells again. “He never does this.”

  “Probably a squirrel or something,” I offer.

  Daisy gives a couple of healthy barks, waking up the entire neighborhood I’m sure, before he streaks around an outcropping of bushes and heads back in our direction. He gets to the yard, hikes his leg on my bushes, and then runs to my front door. I’m placing him back on my bad list.

  “Text your boss and let him know you’re home,” I command after we’re inside my house with the door locked. She takes her phone from her too-tight jean shorts and sends off the text. I whip my T-shirt over my head on the way to the bedroom. I shuck my jeans and toss them and the shirt in the hamper next to my closet door. I pull back the covers and sli
de beneath them with only my dark boxer briefs on.

  Shelby enters my bathroom and closes the door. I get up and head back to the front of my home to shut off the lights. Shelby’s still in the bathroom when I come back and climb in bed. Daisy sniffs around the side of my bed before lying down on the carpet. “Good boy,” I tell him quietly.

  Shelby walks out, looks at Daisy, huffs slightly, and turns off the bathroom light. There’s enough moonlight through the blinds that I can see Shelby stumble around the bed before she crawls in beside me. We lie there without saying a word until I can’t take it anymore.

  I roll in her direction. “Come here.” I pull her into my arms so her back is to my chest.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

  “Shhh,” I say and close my eyes with Shelby’s warm body tucked against mine.

  13

  “Hey, sleepyhead, I need to take Daisy for a run. You coming?”

  I can’t even dignify her with an answer. I peer at the bedside clock, which reads five in the morning, tug the pillow Shelby used last night over my head, and fall back to sleep with Shelby’s soft laughter floating through the room.

  I wake up to the smell of bacon. The clock tells me it’s a few minutes after seven. Even with my late-night adventure, I feel refreshed. I jump in the shower and then dress and present myself in the kitchen within ten minutes. Shelby, in her running clothes, is sitting on my kitchen counter with a cup of coffee in hand. I walk over, take the coffee, and set it aside. Her lips are inviting and warm. She tastes of coffee and Shelby, and I think I could do this every morning for the rest of my life.

  Just. Like. This.

  I deepen the kiss and run my fingers under her shirt and beneath her bra. Her nipples are stiff peaks caused by the piercings. Always standing at perfect attention.

  “Yum,” she breathes against me when I let her up for air. Her legs circle my waist and her arms go around my neck. “Does this mean you forgive me?” she asks while peppering kisses across my chin and lips.

  “No, but this and breakfast are a good start.” I completely disregard my trashed kitchen just like I ignored Shelby’s clothes from last night that are now piled on my bathroom floor. Sometimes you need to take the good with the bad, and this is so damn good.

  “Are you going into work before court?” she asks with a kiss to my nose.

  “Yes, I’ll need to meet you there.” Breaking away is difficult, and her small pout makes it harder. I help her down from the cabinet and slide my hand over her round ass. My stove has a plate with bacon, eggs, and buttered toast resting on one of the cool burners. “Where did the food come from?” I ask and reach over and grab a piece of toast.

  “I shopped yesterday, thinking we’d have a large breakfast tomorrow morning.”

  “Mmm,” I say as I move around her to grab the plate. “Did you eat?”

  “Yes, that’s all yours.” Her expression changes and her smile disappears. “I’m sorry I worried you last night.”

  Scared the ever-loving shit out of me is more like it. “I need to catch this guy, Shelby. The things I told you are not public knowledge. He’s is a psychopath. He also travels. If he leaves here, he’ll go someplace else and start over again.”

  Her expression changes and I recognize the steely glint in her eyes. “The ladies downtown are in danger and it’s hard for me to stand by and ignore it.” She looks at me and I’m sure she’s waiting for an explosion.

  I’m not her ex, and I don’t think I need to yell to get my point across. “My job is to catch him. If I worry about you, it only impedes the investigation.” I put the plate down and move closer to her. With her hair tied back in a ponytail, her eyes appear larger. I reach behind her and grab the ponytail using it to tip her face up. I dip my head and take her lips again. I claim her mouth. She may want to keep this relationship light, but I don’t plan to let that happen. Daisy whines and rubs his big head against the backs of my legs. I forgot he was even here. Breaking this kiss is the last thing I want to do.

  I drop my arms and give Daisy a long scratch on the head. Looking up, I see Shelby watching me with a tender smile. “Does he need to eat?” I ask.

  “Yes, I’ll take him home and feed him. I still need that ride to my car. I can be ready in thirty minutes.”

  “Sounds good.” My hand goes to the warm plate, and I transfer it to the center island so I can finish eating.

  “Come on, big boy, I need to feed you and take a shower. Someone has me all hot and bothered, which has nothing to do with our morning run.”

  That makes me smile as I watch them walk out my front door. I check phone messages while I eat. I have a message from one of the detectives who works vice. I listen as he tells me a prostitute approached him and said a strange guy was hanging around her corner the night before. She gave the detective a detailed description and said she could work with a composite sketch artist if I wanted to arrange it but it had to be after three p.m. today.

  I will call the detective back after I hit the office. Vice cops have a narrow view of prostitution and the men who pay for it. Violence is a side effect of the lifestyle in their opinion. That doesn’t mean they won’t put everything they can into helping me. Fact is they’re as overworked and understaffed as the homicide division. I won’t get into an argument over who needs more manpower. It’s a supervisory decision.

  I drink two cups of coffee and finish the breakfast Shelby cooked. I need to increase my exercise schedule with her around. Maybe she’ll be willing to help if I tell her sex burns off calories. I head over to pick her up with a smile on my face. She’s ready to go. I do a double take at her outfit. She’s wearing a green blouse and a long white skirt with black beads looped around her waist multiple times. A green and black scarf covers her head in a gypsy-like style. Her purse is some kind of white woven rope with beaded fringe. At least twenty thin gold bracelets jingle from her wrists. I proudly pull her into my side as I lead her to my truck.

  About ten minutes into the ride she swears while digging through her purse. “I left my cell at home. Now I’m going to be late to the office. It’s bad enough I need to take off this morning for court.”

  “Do you want me to turn around?”

  “I’ll go back home after I pick up my car. You have more important things to do than driving me around.”

  I feel bad, but she’s right; I need to get to work. She gives directions to her car when we’re close. I clench my jaw. It’s a small paved lot next to a convenience store not far from Central Avenue. I don’t see any outside lights to make it safer.

  She holds out a hand, palm facing me. “Don’t say it. I can see by your expression that you aren’t happy. I’ll be good and let you do your job.”

  I grab her hand and lift it to my lips kissing the backs of her fingers. Her eyes go soft and I can’t help pulling her in close. “I need to get going. I’ll see you in court.”

  “Thank you for worrying about me last night,” she breathes against my lips.

  “Stop reminding me.” I kiss her when she laughs. This woman, with her crazy clothes and confused dog, needs to be in my life.

  14

  As I’m leaving my office for the courthouse, my sergeant calls and asks me to come to his office. I’m in a hurry but take time to give him the rundown on the previous murders in Louisiana. And though it’s a very long shot, I tell him about the prostitute I plan to work a composite sketch with. What was once the glamorous job of an actual artist can now be done on a computer by any detective who’s been trained. A few years ago, I went to a free class taught by the National Center for Missing & Exploited Children to receive my certification. The department bought the software and it’s standard for us to do our own computer-generated photos now. They’re accurate as hell but like I said, a long shot.

  “I’ve spoken to Officer Wilder’s supervisor and we’re assigning him to assist you for the next two weeks.”

  I don’t reiterate that this guy’s timeline could include s
everal murders in two weeks. Before that happens, I’ll make the call to the FBI myself. “Thank you, sir. Wilder’s a good cop and I need the help.”

  I leave the station and arrive at the courthouse ten minutes late. The docket should be crowded, so I’m not worried. The parking lot is full. I get lucky when someone backs out of a space close to the walkway. I look around and don’t see Shelby’s car. There’s extra parking in the back, so I’m not concerned that Shelby’s car isn’t visible. The security guard at the metal detector shows me the docket list so I know which courtroom to head to. I’m surprised that Shelby’s uncle hasn’t recused himself.

  Not my damn problem. I just can’t help wondering what the hell he’s trying to achieve.

  The courtroom is packed and my eyes travel through the room looking for Shelby. I don’t see her and figure she’s in the bathroom or something. I back out of the room, pull out my cell phone, and send her a text.

  I’m here, where are you?

  I turn my phone to vibrate, keep it in my hand, and walk back into the courtroom. I stand and watch as a name is called and a middle-aged man and his attorney walk forward to give his plea. I never asked Shelby if she had an attorney. I have trouble believing she’ll actually need one.

  I keep peering down at my phone as I scan the rows of people again in case I missed her.

  “Shelby Ryan,” the bailiff calls out.

  No one moves. I didn’t miss her. She isn’t here.

  “Detective Street,” the judge says.

  “Yes, sir,” I answer as I walk forward. I mentally run through the possible reasons Shelby wouldn’t be here.

  “I believe you are responsible for Shelby to appear in my courtroom this morning?”

  I’m about to answer, but my thoughts are like streaks of lightning. I turn away from the judge and charge from the room.