by Joely
“I want him to quit, yeah” she replied quietly. “But I’ll never ask it of him. If he chooses to walk away, it’s on him and him alone.”
“And you’ll fucking celebrate if he chooses to leave,” Vicki said in a firm, no nonsense voice that made Jesse soften and Elias stiffen, though he nodded. “We’ll all celebrate. Because he’s alive and happy and doing what he wants.”
“Damn right,” Mal said. Please, let it be soon. Let him be all right.
A few moments went by and the tension in the room settled a bit. Everyone breathed easier, knowing that Colby was likely going to be okay. But Mal noticed that Jesse still had a hand on Elias’s shoulder, and even more interesting, the cop didn’t seem to mind. She glanced at Vicki, noting the soft look of overwhelming affection in her eyes. “Colby asked me to the Policeman’s Ball.”
Vicki jerked her attention to Mal, with a brilliant smile to match the dazzle in her eyes. “Oh! A new dress!”
“Will you have time?”
She dug into her purse and pulled out a small sketchbook and pencil. “That’s a silly question. This is the perfect way to pass the time. Let’s see…”
And she was right. The soft scratch of lead on paper, watching a fanciful dress unfold, was the perfect distraction. Mal lost track of time, watching her friend sketch out several dresses, page after page. But one in particular caught her eye. “Go back. Yeah. That one.”
Vicki gave her a Cheshire cat smile. “I thought you might like it the most.”
Mal tilted her head a bit, letting the vision unfold in her mind. Vicki’s notes said antique cream with heritage lace. Lace wasn’t usually Mal’s taste, but the long, elegant lines of the dress were enhanced by soft falls of lace. It looked old fashioned, vintage, and yet perfectly her. Except for one thing. “It seems very… bridal.”
Vicki laughed as she wrapped an arm around Mal’s shoulders and hugged her. “Exactly.”
Marriage wasn’t something she’d thought about, not for a very long time. The Mistress of Dallas flirted as she wished, breaking submissive hearts left and right. It’d been fun, a long reign of play and casual relationships that had been exactly what she needed as she established her career at VCONN. Whips and chains, latex and collars, the club life had made her into the Mistress she was today. The Mistress who’d been ready and able to help a mentally wounded soldier overcome his issues. The woman who couldn’t wait to take her wounded cop home and help him heal once and for all.
Whether he wore her collar or not, Colby was hers.
Chapter Eighteen
The nurses kept telling him that Mal was fine, but he wouldn’t believe them until they finally let him see her. She came and took his hand in both of hers, squeezing firmly as if she wasn’t ever going to let go. Her tears just about killed him. Because he didn’t want to ever give her cause to cry again.
“They didn’t hurt you? Did they? You’re really all right?”
“Oh, sugar.” She kissed the back of his hand. “How could they have hurt me when you shielded me with your own body until I was inside?”
“I’m sorry.” The words choked him, his throat raw. Pain was nothing, danger was nothing. As long as she was safe. He’d put her in harm’s way just by being with him. He wanted to tell her that it’d never happen again, that he’d already gotten a new job. But Elias stepped up and squeezed his other shoulder.
“Don’t even think it. You did the best you could, and you were right. You got the shooter. Greaves is leading the calvary to wipe the streets on the East side as we speak. I’m just sorry I wasn’t there with you, partner.”
“What, so you could both get shot?” Mal retorted.
“Mal’s right.” Colby tried to keep his eyes open, but the happy drugs must be kicking in. “Not your fault. Not anybody’s fault. Can’t be responsible for everybody and everything that happens.”
Mal kissed his knuckles again, wetting his skin with her tears.
“He needs to rest now,” the nurse said firmly. Colby managed to peel his eyes open enough to see the firm, I’m-not-leaving look on Mal’s face. The nurse blinked, nodded, and shooed everybody else out.
Elias scooted a chair over for her, and Mal sat close, holding Colby’s hand with her left, so she could stroke his cheek with her other hand. “I may never let you out of my sight again, sugar.”
He smiled as he drifted away. That’d be all right by me.
Mal jerked awake when the door opened and three people rushed in. An older man, undeniably Colby’s father, his mother, and a young girl around eight or nine years old, a blonde, blue-eyed cutie. Braced for nastiness, Mal stood, trying not to wince at the kinks in her back. She had no idea how Colby’s family would take him dating an older-than-him black woman, but chances were good that they’d never approve. Another bridge they’d have to cross.
“Shhh,” Colby’s mother told the other man. “Don’t wake him.” She turned to Mal, a hesitant but polite smile on her face as she whispered, “I don’t think we’ve met.”
“I’m Malinda Kannes. I’m…” His Mistress? Girlfriend? Fiancée? That’s what she wanted to say, but would he be all right with coming out like that to his family?
“I’m Sarah, my husband David, and granddaughter, Amelia. Have you talked to the doctor?”
Mal started to move away from the bed so not to wake Colby, but as soon as she tried to let go of his hand, his eyes opened, and he clung harder to her.
“Mom, Dad?”
“Hey, son. Sorry it took us awhile to get here.”
His father patted him gruffly on the shoulder and his mother burst into tears. She leaned down, hugging him, and he awkwardly tried to hug her back, but the tubes in his other arm caught on the bed rail. “I’m fine, Mom. Really. This is my girlfriend, Mal.”
The granddaughter’s baby blues widened. David’s mouth fell open. Sarah straightened slowly, giving Mal a long once over. She could almost feel the temperature dipping in the room.
But then Amelia squealed and launched herself against Mal, practically squeezed the life out of her. “Finally! Mom always says she’s given up on Uncle Colby ever settling down!”
Colby’s cheeks actually reddened, the flush stark against his pale skin. “No one said anything about settling down.” Though he met Mal’s gaze with a look that she swore meant that he wasn’t going anywhere. Ever.
David came over and took her hand in his. “No, they haven’t, but we know you, son. You’ve never introduced anyone as your girlfriend to us. Only friend. Even Becky, that girl you dated back in high school for almost a year. You might as well have said fiancée as far as I’m concerned. Mal, welcome to the family.”
Sarah came over and gripped Mal’s arms, staring into her eyes a moment. Whatever she saw in Mal’s eyes, it made her tear up, and then Mal got a little weepy again too. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t do anything but call 911.”
Silent understanding shone in Sarah’s eyes. The look of a mother who’d worried about her son for a long time, but had been unable to help him.
“If you hadn’t been there, I might have bled out.” Colby squeezed her hand and with a gentle tug, pulled her closer. “You saved me.”
His words sliced her heart into ribbons, but this was a good pain. A shared secret that his family would never understand. Because he didn’t mean only the shooting.
“You’re going to need some time to recuperate,” Sarah said. “Do you want us to clean out your apartment, move you home? It’s too tiny for anyone to stay with you comfortably.”
“And it’s too nasty and scary,” Amelia retorted. Both grandparents gave her a quelling look. “What? It is. I’m not staying there!”
Colby looked up at Mal, a silent question asking for permission, though a bit of doubt made him hesitate. Her soldier boy didn’t want to be presumptuous, but there was no place she’d rather him be than with her.
“He’s staying with me,” she said firmly. “In fact, your assumption earlier wasn’t to
o far off the mark.” She lightened her voice, watching the emotion flit across his face. “I plan on asking him to marry me. If he’ll have me.”
If his family thought it strange for the woman to propose to the man, they didn’t object. In fact, his mother started crying and hugged her again, and Amelia started squealing into the phone.
“No, Mom, really, he’s getting married! For real!”
“When?” The sister shrieked through the phone.
Everybody looked at Colby expectantly, and Mal suddenly felt badly for putting him on the spot. They’d only known each other a few weeks. They’d certainly never talked about marriage.
“I hope you don’t mind, Mom, but I’m thinking Mal and I could elope as soon as I’m on my feet again.”
Sarah leaned down and kissed his forehead. “We’ve had two big weddings already. You do what you want, son. We’ll be happy either way.”
Holding his hand while his family grinned and hugged him was wonderful, but she couldn’t fully let go of her reservations.
There was still one person who might stand against this union. Someone very important to her. It’d kill her go against Mama’s wishes, but she refused to give him up. She couldn’t. Mama would just have to understand. Though she wasn’t too eager to break the news to her.
All too quickly, the nurses were back trying to shoo people out. Sudden terror gripped Mal. If they made her leave so his real family could stay…
But no, Colby refused to let go of her hand, and his family crowded around the bed, agreeing to come back in the morning. His father squeezed his shoulder lightly. “Son.” He cleared his throat, his voice gruff. “Your mother and I are very proud of you. So proud. But mostly just glad you’re okay.”
Colby closed his eyes a moment, his fingers trembling in Mal’s grasp. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Though we’d love it if you came home for awhile,” Sarah said firmly, wiping her eyes. “Or at least stayed out of harm’s way. You’ve been in danger too long.”
“No more danger.” He said agreeably, but he looked up at Mal and winked, as if to say, Unless it’s in my Mistress’s bed.
Chapter Nineteen
The first few days “off” had been great, especially after a few days in the hospital. Colby had mostly slept in Mal’s bed, waking long enough to eat and talk with her awhile. They usually watched television together until he dozed off. She teased him for loving daytime judge shows, while her guilty pleasure was British baking contests. She entertained him with stories about the new show she was putting together for VCONN. She even cooked a bit, just eggs and soup, grilled cheese sandwiches, easy things, but important and special because he knew she didn’t like to cook at all.
But she never said another word about getting married. He’d started to think maybe he’d dreamed it while drugged up in the hospital.
He couldn’t wait to get out and shop for her ring. But he couldn’t drive yet, not on painkillers. He could get around better and had started doing a few easy things around the house while she was at work. Laundry. Dishes. He even called Alli and asked her how to make her famous creamy chicken enchiladas, one of his favorite dishes. Elias came by at least every other day and updated him on the cartel situation. Which he didn’t care about in the slightest, though it gave him the opportunity to break his decision to Elias. His partner didn’t seem surprised and agreed to start the discussion with the lieutenant for him.
Which was great. Exactly what he wanted. But he wanted to be doing these things himself.
If he didn’t get out of the house soon, he was going to lose his mind.
The doorbell rang, a welcome distraction. Though the woman waiting at the door was a shock. Holding a fluffy little dog that had to be Pumpkin, Mal’s Mama looked him up and down.
“Well, well, well, who are you, young man?”
“Colby Wade, ma’am.” He saw the waiting car, the driver popping the trunk. “Let me get your bags.”
The driver set her bags out, thankfully, because he wasn’t supposed to lift anything yet. He gave the man a tip and rolled the two bags back up to the porch. She took one handle from him, leaving the larger bag for him, but luckily there was only one step up. He tugged it up, unobtrusively holding his side.
“You hurt?”
He flashed her a smile and she humphed under her breath. Mal got that from her. “I was shot off duty a little over a week ago, but I’m fine, ma’am.”
Before he could protest, she took the handle from him and shoved the fluffy dog into his arms. “Pumpkin needs to potty. Do you think you can manage that much?”
“Sure thing, ma’am. Let’s go, Pumpkin.”
He carried the dog through the back gate and set him down in the yard. The dog danced around his feet, begging to be picked back up, but he finally did his business and Colby took him back inside. He’d noticed a small box of treats on top of the fridge, so he gave the dog one.
“Ma’am, can I get you a cup of coffee?”
“Absolutely.” She sat down at the bar, watching him move around the kitchen. “So you’re seeing my daughter.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He set the cup in front of her. “Cream or sugar?”
She shook her head and held the cup, warming her hands but only watching him. It unnerved him. This was the most important person in Mal’s life. If her mother ended up hating him…
“You serious?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’d do anything for her.”
“Well, you’re certainly polite enough. Tell me about yourself.”
He told her about Afghanistan and the years on the force. Enough about his PTSD so that she’d understand how much her daughter had helped him. Then about the shooting and his plans to leave the force. “I still haven’t told her yet. I want it to be a surprise.”
“Darned fool,” Mama muttered, shaking her head. “Don’t you think she’d rather have a serious talk about your life, especially if you want to make a life with her?”
She had a point. “We already talked about it indirectly. She told me I had to give up my monstrous sense of responsibility. Her words.”
“And so you decided to quit your job entirely?”
“It’s more than that. I don’t need it anymore. I don’t need that constant war, the threat of danger to keep me engaged.” Not when I know I can battle the Mistress of Dallas in her bed as soon as I get home.
“I see.” She sipped her coffee a few moments. “What are your intentions with respect to my daughter?”
“I want to marry her, ma’am. If she’ll have me.”
“Does she know that?”
“Unless I dreamed it all in the hospital, yes. She actually sort of proposed to me first.”
Mama laughed. “That’s my girl. If she saw something she wanted, she took it. Even if it was a pie I’d promised to someone else.”
Speaking of dessert… “Ma’am—”
“I’m sure she likes you being all polite with her, but I’d rather you just call me Mama, or Alice. Either is fine with me.”
“Miss Alice, could you teach me how to make your famous cream brûlée?”
She threw her head back and laughed. “Now I know you’re perfect for each other. That always was her favorite dessert, even if she couldn’t ever make it.” Standing up, she grabbed the cup and came around the bar into the kitchen. “All right, young man, let’s see how well you take instructions.”
Walking into her house and finding Colby in the kitchen was always a nice surprise. Realizing that her mother was in the kitchen too…
Oh shit. Here it comes.
She’d been making plans all week for a small, impromptu ceremony with a justice of peace. She didn’t need or want all the fancy ceremony with an overblown reception and massive guest list. She didn’t even care if their friends were actually there for the ceremony. She just wanted him to belong to her.
But she needed to tell Mama, and she’d been putting it off. Anything else in her life, she would have tackled it head on and
already kicked its ass or wrestled it to the ground. But Mama? She didn’t want to lose her, and this might be the very thing to send Mama out of her life for good.
“There’s my girl.” Mama wiped her hands on a towel and came to give her a hug, kissing both her cheeks.
“What a nice surprise. Where are you headed, Mama?”
Mama gave her a knowing look. “I thought I’d stay a few days, and then I’m headed to New York City with Patty and Rhonda. We’ve got tickets to Hamilton.”
“Nice.” A few days. Crap. It was one thing to arrive at her daughter’s house during the day and find a man. But to see him there day and night… She’d start asking questions. Questions Mal didn’t want to fight over.
“Sit down, we’ve got everything ready.”
She had to admit that it was something special to see the two people she loved most in the world sitting at her table. Together. It actually made her throat tighten when he took her hand and they said grace before plowing into fried chicken and mashed potatoes. Mama’s specialty was usually dessert, but no Southern woman would survive long without knowing how to make good fried chicken. “Sure is good, Mama.”
“Don’t compliment me. Colby made it.”
He flashed that killer grin at her. “With help. But I think I can make it again.”
She had no expectation that he slave in the kitchen for her, but that he was making the effort definitely made her cold Mistress heart flood with warmth. Too bad he was in no shape for her to show him exactly how grateful she was that he was willing to do things around the house without her ever having to make the request. Most men expected someone else to take care of the house and food as a matter of privilege, never thinking that he lived there too. That by ignoring the basic everyday chores, he was dumping all that responsibility on his partner. Even as a Mistress, she’d typically had to give the order to clean or cook.
Colby had taken it upon himself to help. Even injured.
“You’ll want to save some room for dessert,” Mama said, though no reminder was necessary. With her in the house, dessert was expected and hotly anticipated.