Never Hold Back (First Responders #2)

by JA Essen

  Never Hold Back

  J.A. Essen

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Prologue

  1. Rachel

  2. Zander

  3. Zander

  4. Rachel

  5. Zander

  6. Rachel

  7. Zander

  8. Zander

  9. Zander

  10. Zander

  11. Rachel

  12. Rachel

  13. Zander

  14. Rachel

  15. Rachel

  16. Zander

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Never Hold Back

  Copyright © 2016 J.A. Essen

  Editing by Mrs. J.A. Essen and My BETA Krew =)

  Cover design by: MGBookCovers

  EBooks are not transferrable. All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Acknowledgments

  Zander and his kinky-ways do hereby OFFICIALLY belong to Laura W. All other interested parties must negotiate directly with her.

  WARNING: Contains use of alternative sex toy!

  Prologue

  4 YEARS AGO

  “Mom, please! You have to keep fighting.” Tears burn my eyes, pouring down my cheeks as I hold the hand of the woman who gave birth to me, raised me and Raven on her own, and made sure we would be able to make something of ourselves in this life.

  Life. You think you have so much of it.

  Until you don’t.

  She can’t speak with the intubation tube down her throat breathing for her. The cancer has spread from her pancreas to the bile duct and nearby lymph nodes. Doctors have done all they can.

  Her once athletic body is so frail. This woman who used to run circles around me on the track, now lies here, unable to even raise an arm. Her dark locks have all been wiped away by the repeated chemotherapy sessions, and the radiation treatments have taken the sparkle from her honey-colored eyes.

  There was no pain in those eyes the last time she was able to open them, and that causes my heart to shatter completely. I know what was going through her mind. She’d resigned herself to her known fate.

  “Mama, I can’t do this without you.” Raven’s usually perfect mascara is smeared and streaked on her face, and her voice is shaking with uncertainty.

  “She’s ready to go home to Grandad,” I manage through the lump in my throat. Taking Raven’s hand with mine, I convey to her with my eyes what I can’t bear to say. It’s time to let Mom go; time to say goodbye.

  Standing on wobbling legs, I nod at the nurse, letting her know that she can turn the beeping and flickering machines off.

  “Mr. Brooks, this may take a while. You and your sister may stay as long as you need.” She’s very professional and puts forth a caring face, whether or not it actually affects her.

  Raven kisses Mom on the cheek and squeezes her hand.

  “Zander,” she’s shaking her head “I can’t do this. I just…” She rushes out of the room, sending charts flying from a doctor’s hands, nearly knocking him off his feet. I’ll worry about her feelings later. Right now, I need to take care of mine.

  With my throat on fire and dizziness invading my head, I settle into the bed next to the most important woman in my life. Cradling her feeble form, I lay her head on my chest and run my hand over her smooth scalp. Her breathing is shallow and intermittent.

  We lay like this for nearly an hour before I feel what will she has left leave her. “It’s okay, Mama. You can go now. I love you. Give Grandad a hug from me.”

  Kissing the top of her head, she takes her last breath, and I know what it is to TRULY lose something.

  One

  Rachel

  Mid-July

  “Let my body do the work, work, work, work, work, work, work, work

  We can work from home, oh, oh, oh-oh…”

  Mine and Macy’s favorite song is on repeat as I vacillate back and forth between brushing my hair and using the brush as a microphone.

  I love mornings.

  The rest of the house is quiet, devoid of any activity, so I can just be me, dancing around and singing like an idiot. Let my mind run free. Lay in bed and masturbate. Whatever I want!

  But this morning, I feel the need for a workout and a tanning session. My trip to Europe is just over a week away and I need to lose a few pounds to offset what I’m certain is going to be put on across ‘the Pond’. A little extra color on these girls wouldn’t hurt either. I cup my breasts as I check out the tan lines that are all but gone now. No way am I showing up at a topless beach in France with tan lines. That just screams tourist.

  Placing the brush back on the vanity, I skip across the room to where I have my yellow sports bra and black spandex shorts laid out and ready. Slipping into them, I look around for my tennis shoes, wondering where the hell I put them. They should’ve been right here by the dresser, but they aren’t. Glancing around, they are neither under my bed, nor in the closet. Grabbing a pair of ankle socks from the dresser drawer, I balance on one foot while shimmying into one, then repeat the process for the other.

  Walking into the en suite, I pick up my toothbrush, apply a small drop of paste and start brushing my teeth as I take ‘Work From Home’ off of repeat and switch to a Country playlist. ‘American Country Love Song’ starts playing and I’m back to waggling my hips while I froth at the mouth. Spitting and rinsing my mouth out, I liberally apply my deodorant. I plan on working up a sweat and don’t want to be smelly if the opportunity to flirt with some hunk crops up.

  Now all that’s missing are those damn shoes. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the reflection of my shoes in the mirror, sitting beside the toilet, as I’m about to walk back into the bedroom.

  “What the hell are you doing over there?”

  Unable to remember when or why I put them there, I hastily clutch them, head to the bed, sit down, and put them on. Yanking on the quick-laces finishes me up and I can head out.

  Car keys, driver’s license, and cell phone are all I’ll need this morning. Picking them all up from the vanity top, this day is ready to begin.

  No time for breakfast.

  I skim past the kitchen as I want to be worked out, tanned, back to the house, and cleaned up before nine so that I can head over to Macy’s and we can catch some waves. Speaking of Macy, I wonder how her man-sandwich experiment went last night. It’s all I can do to keep from texting her, but I know I won’t hear the end of it for a week if I shoot off a text at seven-twenty in the morning. Satisfying my curiosity will have to wait I suppose.

  “Hey girl,” I purr as I slide my hand across the ass end of my beautiful, dark green Mustang GT. The alarm chirps as I tap the button on the key fob twice, disarming it and unlocking the doors. Settling into the driver’s seat, I set my iPhone into one of the drink holders and press the ‘start’ button on the dash. I may be a ‘Barbie-girl’ as Macy calls me, but I still love the growl of my big V8.

  Reaching overhead, I press the garage door button and as soon as it hits its apex, I shift down into ‘drive’ and p
unch it. Daddy will rip me for leaving skid marks in the garage, again, but I can’t help it. The half a second of loud exhaust reverberation inside the bay is totally worth it.

  Down the winding driveway, out onto the subdivision street, and finally to the traffic light just outside the gates. Since it’s on Highway 154, I know I’ll be sitting here a while. Grabbing my phone from the drink holder, I bring up Facebook to see what, if anything, I’ve missed overnight. I scroll and scroll and scroll… selfie, selfie, selfie with dog, cat meme, half naked guy. Screech! Put the brakes on and scroll back up.

  “Damnit Lacy. You definitely know how to get a girl to pay attention to your post,” I say to my phone as if it can understand me and laugh as I think about this fact. I start to type out a response when I catch the light turning yellow.

  “Oh shit!” Dropping my phone back into the console mid response, I punch the accelerator, knowing that if I miss this one, I’ll be stuck here another five minutes.

  Pulling across the east bound traffic lanes, I just start turning left to go west into Santa Barbara when I see the glint of light. I have no time to react.

  The impact of the truck is so great that it bends me sideways over the center console area as the car starts to spin. Things begin unraveling in slow motion. The horizon is no longer level in the front window, but rather slants up toward my right. It hits me that the car is starting to flip and instinctively, I place my hands up to the ceiling to brace myself.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

  Glass comes crashing in on me and my head hits something, hard. The car is still sliding and…

  “Miss! Miss, can you hear me?”

  There is a voice in my head, or so I think. No, maybe it’s not.

  I open my eyes slowly. Everything is hazy and haloed. There are flashing lights, flares burning with orange smoke billowing up from them. People rush everywhere.

  “Miss, can you hear me?” The voice asks again. I try to turn my head, but can’t. It’s restrained. I start to freak out and flail my arms. Someone presses down on them both.

  “Miss, calm down. We’ve got you. Can you see this light?”

  A mini flashlight crosses back and forth across my face. I try to speak, but all I can manage is a grumble.

  “Okay, good. Follow the light with your eyes.”

  I do as he says and follow the light from left to right and back again, all the way as far as he moves it.

  “That’s great, Miss.” I feel him take my hand. “Squeeze my fingers.”

  It takes some effort, but I’m able to once again perform his request. There is another EMT taking my pulse and watching his watch. “Blood pressure’s low.”

  “I don’t doubt it. She’s definitely lost some blood from the compound fractures.”

  Compound fractures? Where. My legs? I flex my left leg a little, but when I try and move my right, all I’m rewarded with is excruciating, shooting pain.

  “No, NO!” He’s too late and he knows it. “Your right leg is broken, Miss. They are setting it now. Don’t move anymore.”

  Well shit. That’s not going to be an issue.

  I can feel the darkness creeping back in on me, my body completely overcome with shock.

  “She’s bottoming out. We need to move. NOW!”

  There’s a sudden shake of my body before everything goes pitch black again.

  Fuck. Now I’ll never get to ask Macy about Seth and…

  Holy. Fucking. Shit.

  Now I know how Atlas must have felt, carrying the weight of the world. My body, every single inch of my body, feels like it has an elephant lying across it; numb and heavy all at the same time. The room is too bright as I slit my eyes open and wait for them to begin to adjust.

  The first thing I notice is the beeping of the machines, then the IV lines going into my arms. I can move my arms, my neck, my head, but as I look down at my legs, I know there isn’t the slightest chance my right leg will be working again anytime soon. If ever.

  Tears pool in my eyes and burn down my cheeks as they start to overflow. There are pins and screw things all over my right leg. It’s wrapped tightly and there are halo rings on both sides of it. My hands begin to tremble from fear? Anxiety? Sadness?

  “Oh my God, baby.” My dad’s voice comes from the doorway. He rushes to my left side as Macy follows him in, terror filling her eyes as she looks me over.

  “Daddy,” I manage through a tear choaked sob. “What happened to me?”

  “There was an accident, baby. It was pretty bad. You were rushed to the hospital and have been in surgery for hours. The doctors said you’ll be fine, but your right leg was broken in two different spots.”

  I start to cry again. My trip to Europe is done for, obviously. I’ve been looking forward to it for more than a year.

  Roxy! My car! My eyes fly open.

  “Is Roxy…?”

  Daddy just shakes his head.

  Fuck. Another Mustang, gone.

  “Go big or go home, huh girl?” Macy smiles meekly at me.

  “You know me.” I smile back without my usual jubilance, wincing in pain as I shrug my shoulders. We both use humor to mask our emotions, to try and hide the pain and fear we’re both feeling.

  The three of us make small talk for a while. I fill them in on what I can remember, which isn’t much at this point. Everything is so distorted in my head. I’m sure the great pain meds they have me on have absolutely nothing to do with that.

  When the orthopedic surgeon walks in, looking all Mark Sloane from Grey’s Anatomy, I see Macy perk up. I do the exact opposite when he starts to talk though. Two months of recovery and then another month at least of rehab. My life is over.

  Daddy just strokes the back of my arm and hand, knowing how much being laid up for that long is going to kill his little girl. I’m always on the go; surfing, working out, shopping, whatever I can do to be out, about, and social.

  The stress of it all is taking its toll on me and I feel very weak again all of a sudden. “Daddy, Macy, I think I may need to go back to sleep.” I shake my head as things go a little sideways.

  “Okay, baby. I’ll still be here when you wake up. Mom will be back tomorrow morning.” He turns toward Macy as she starts for the door with her cell in hand. “Macy?”

  “I’ll be back first thing tomorrow morning as well. I need to call Seth and let him know what’s happened.”

  Feeling the comforting touch of my daddy’s hand on the back of my arm, I close my eyes and quickly drift back into the dark ether.

  Two

  Zander

  Three years. Three. Fucking. Years, that I’ve been with the Santa Barbara PD and they promote some new dickhead transfer that’s been with the department for less than six months.

  Unbelievable.

  You knock over one little fire hydrant your fourth day on the job that the department insurance has to cover, and what, you’re blacklisted forever? That asshole shouldn’t have tried to run.

  Bullshit! Slamming my fisted hand down on the bedside table sends coins and my badge flying off the top, landing somewhere against the wall behind it. “Great!”

  Pushing the lightweight piece of furniture out of the way with my foot and grabbing for the badge reveals a long lost item. “So that’s where my damn Oakleys went.”

  Retrieving them, I use the bed sheet to clean the dusty lenses, place them on my face, and Tom-Cruise-slide into the bathroom, butt naked. Shooting finger guns into the mirror, I wink through the glasses at all the hard work I’ve put in at the gym, getting my physique in the best condition of my life. Egotistical or not, I love rubbing my hands over the dips in my abdomen. This is the most expensive six-pack I’ve ever paid for. Three months of clean eating, six mornings a week in the gym, no sodas, and worst of all, no morning donuts at the PD.

  Dipping the glasses down the bridge of my nose, I smile into the mirror at the handsome fella staring back at me. “You’ll get that damn detective position. Just keep at it. Third time’s a charm afte
r all.”

  Grabbing my toothbrush, I get started on my morning routine; teeth, trim up the beard, gel up the hair, throw on some deodorant, and I’m good to go.

  Heading back into the bedroom, I notice my cell phone light up with a notification.

  Chief: MVC yesterday morning. Female victim in hospital. Last name, Upton. Get a statement.

  Of course. Just how I wanted to start my morning; shit-duty. Well whatever. I’ll just grin and bear it, keep the powers-that-be happy, and make myself look good.

  Passing the laundry basket in the bedroom, I grab a pair of boxers from the clean pile I never seem to get around to folding, slip my legs in, and head to the walk-in closet. The underwear and socks may never be right, but everything that can be pressed and hung is always in perfect order. Mostly thanks to the drive-thru cleaners just up the street from the department.

  White undershirt, button-up uniform shirt, slacks and polished shoes always where they should be and ready to go. Retrieving everything I need, I lay it out on the bed and start dressing piece by piece. Snatching some socks from the basket, I promise myself the rest of them will make it into the drawer this week.

  Maybe.

  My modular belt and sidearm are on the rack by the front door and I’ll grab them on the way out, but first, I desperately need some coffee.

  The smell of the fresh brew already dripping invades my senses as I open the bedroom door and head out toward the kitchen. Sitting at the ready is my big blue Yeti cup, beckoning to be filled with the dark liquid and two sweeteners. Something tells me it’s going to be one of those days, so I make sure and drain every last drop from the pot before I snap the top on tight.

  Checking the fridge, I grab a slice of cold pizza from cheat-day and decide that will have to do for today’s breakfast. Setting the slice on top of the cup and placing both on the rack next to the door, I fasten the heavy belt around my waist, place my sidearm in the holster, and clip on my badge.