Cop Tales an Anthology for a Cause

by T. R. Cupak

  God, those lips. Remembering how they felt against mine causes my heart rate to speed up a notch. He knows how to use that sinful mouth to heat my core with want and desire.

  No. He will not get another chance. Officer Dickhead will not get to fuck with my head anymore. I gave him my virginity in high school because he was my first real boyfriend and I loved him. Just before graduation—literally two hours before—he broke my heart. He said the police academy would be his main focus and I needed to concentrate on college. Even though I tried to keep my distance, he messed with every relationship I tried to have during college and after.

  It was only a few months ago that we reconnected. I was at a small dive bar downtown trying to drink myself into a forgetful stupor. Earlier that day, my father’s doctor had informed me that his cancer had spread and my dad had stopped responding to his chemotherapy treatments, which meant he didn’t have too much longer to live.

  While I was drowning my sorrows in Jack Daniels, Officer Dickhead—aka Jaxon Kavanaugh—strolled in and planted himself on the stool next to mine. I wasn’t in the mood for him or his games, so before he could get a word out, I tried to get up to leave, but my feet didn’t cooperate, causing me to stumble into him. Jax’s strong arms wrapped around me tightly and the uncontrollable waterworks began.

  That night, Jaxon took me back to his place where he let me cry myself to sleep. He was supportive and kind. He listened to me stutter through my drunken sobs about what had been going on with my father. For once, Jaxon Kavanaugh showed his soft caring side. The next morning, I woke up with a terrible hangover but Jax already had my hangover cure ready.

  After that night, we started hanging out as friends during our downtime from our busy schedules and the time I was spending with my dad during his last few months. It didn’t take long for the friendship to turn romantic and it was great. Jaxon was great. That is until it wasn’t and he wasn’t. The shift in his demeanor and personality was exactly the same as before. It felt like high school and college all over again.

  Our last interaction before the Jaxon’s personality changed left me handcuffed naked in his bed. This man needs to find a new person to torment. I’m done with him, even if he looks hot as hell in that goddamn uniform.

  “Seriously, Jaxon, what do you want? Why are you pulling me over in front of my own fucking house?”

  “I want you naked on the hood of my police car.” His answer comes quickly without any hesitation.

  Is he fucking kidding me? The man is delusional and has finally lost his mind. I should report him to his sergeant and request that he undergo a psych evaluation. Then again, he would never put his job on the line for a quick lay while he’s in uniform and on duty, so I know he’s joking even if his expression says otherwise.

  The radio attached to his police utility belt makes a sound before a voice comes through.

  “Tom-One, do you copy?” the female voice asks. Because I’ve gone on a ride-along with Jaxon, I know that’s his identifier, which means this harassment will end soon.

  “Go ahead, center,” he responds into the mic attached to his shirt. He went from sex-on-a-stick to serious officer in a nanosecond.

  “We have another four-twenty-two at two-eighty Culver Court. Can you respond?”

  “Ten-four. Ten-eight-A,” he tells the dispatcher.

  The sexual banter has been extinguished by the domestic threat call, but by the way his jaw ticks, I can sense he isn’t done with me yet.

  “This isn’t over,” he informs me as he stands to his full height, giving me a quick glimpse of the monster hard-on he’s sporting before adjusting himself and heading back towards his cruiser.

  Quickly rolling down my driver side window, I yell out, “Yes, it is fucking over. And be safe, asshole!”

  Without turning off his police car lightbar, Jaxon flips a U-turn, turns on his siren, and speeds away, leaving me pissed off and sexually frustrated.

  Damn him.

  Chapter Two

  It’s been two weeks since my last encounter with Jaxon. I finally think I’m in the clear, safe from his unwanted advances, and I can carry on with life running my father’s multi-million-dollar construction company.

  Men see me, a young attractive woman, walk onto a job site and immediately think I’m dumber than a box of rocks, that I don’t understand construction and all it entails. Little do they know this is my life and has been since I was ten years old. My dad taught me everything I need to know to run this business. My master’s degree is just icing on the cake.

  Renovating skyscrapers and high-end hotels is only a small part of what my international business handles. My father had government contracts as well as the gentleman's handshake to be the go-to contractor for a couple of our nation’s tech industry heavy hitters. It’s been rumored, and I still don’t know if it’s true, that my dad designed and built hidden bunkers for Bill Gates and Elon Musk. Even though I am Walter Van DeWalt’s daughter and the COO of Van DeWalt Enterprises, I wasn’t privy to those deals.

  My father’s lonely life wasn’t the result of being shady or a bad person. After my mother passed away when I was nine, he buried himself in his work and became a recluse of sorts. I wasn’t ignored or unloved by any means. My dad took me everywhere with him. That’s how I learned to love this business. He only withdrew socially. His only contact with the outside world was his employees and me.

  I loved my father dearly, but I don’t want to be like him. I want a life, a family, a husband who will be strong yet gentle, be independent but enjoy his time with me, challenge me and have my back, and love me as much as I love him. That’s not too long of a “must haves” list. At least in my head it appears to be reasonable. Maybe I’m just as delusional as Kavanaugh.

  “Miss Van DeWalt,” Brenda’s sweet voice chimes over the intercom on my desk phone.

  “It’s Emery, Brenda, not Miss Van DeWalt,” I say back to her. She’s my best friend, but she insists on addressing me professionally now that I’m the head of the VE.

  “Emery,” she sings back into the intercom. “You have a guest.”

  I glance at my calendar, which is open on my right-hand monitor, but don’t see anyone scheduled for this particular time slot. Maybe Brenda forgot to add a meeting with one of the board members. She is human, after all. But there’s something in her voice that makes me think she’s up to no good. Just when I go to ask her who is here, the door to my office opens and in steps the only man I want absolutely nothing to do with, police uniform and all. He closes the door behind him and stands with his muscular arms crossed in front of his broad chest. I want to throw my stapler across the room with the hope it hits him, but I wouldn’t put it past him to arrest me for assaulting an officer. He’s that kind of asshat.

  But damn him. That uniform makes him look like the kind of man I want to marry and have babies with. Too bad our past and his cocky-ass demeanor get in the way. I swear to God I’m going to break into his house and burn all of his uniforms. Yeah, he’ll just buy more, but at least he won’t have any for a week or so.

  “Why are you here, at my place of business, during business hours?” I don’t hide my annoyance as I cross my arms under my chest, propping my breasts up just a little more, showing off the cleavage my push-up bra helps to accentuate.

  This man infuriates me and makes me do stupid things every time he’s near, so I’m secretly praying this visit is short.

  “Looking mighty fine, Emery.” Again, his tone insinuates his dark and dirty intentions.

  “That didn’t answer my question, Officer Dickhead.”

  “Will you please stop calling me that?” he asks, his annoyance clearly at the same level as mine.

  “What’s the matter? Does it hurt your little ole feelings when I call you that?” I snip back, thinking I’ve got the upper hand. Boy, am I wrong.

  Jaxon closes the distance between us faster than I can get my ass out of my chair in order to maintain the space between us that I need. His ha
nds come down hard onto the armrests, his gorgeous face inches from mine as I push myself as far back as the chair will allow.

  Closing my eyes, I take in a deep breath, trying to rein in my anger and frustration. No wait, make that sexual frustration. Breathing him in was a mistake. The mix of his body wash, natural manly scent, and minty breath conjures images of him bending me over my desk and fucking me until my knees buckle and I can’t stand any longer.

  I keep my hands folded tightly in my lap and cross my feet at the ankles before opening my eyes. Narrowing my gaze, I stare straight into his dark emerald eyes, letting him know he’s wasting his time and mine.

  Accepting my silent challenge, he removes his hands from the armrests and places one on each of my thighs where the hem of my pencil skirt meets the lace of my stockings. Jaxon’s calloused thumbs slip under the hem of my skirt and rub lightly over the lace of the stockings. Most women would hate the feel of calloused fingers, but knowing his are the result of doing what it takes to serve and protect our city—all while stalking me in between—makes the sensation so appealing. It’s sexy as hell, but I’m not doing this. Not again.

  “I have a meeting in five minutes. You need to leave and you need to leave me alone, for good. I’m serious, Jaxon,” I lie using a tone that’s neutral in an effort to get my point across without encouraging this insane behavior. We’re done. We’ve been done. The day he left me handcuffed to his bed was the final straw.

  He glances at my monitor and sees I’m telling the truth. When his eyes come back to meet mine he leans in closer, so I turn my head slightly, not giving him the opportunity to kiss me without my consent.

  “I’ll be seeing you, Emery,” he whispers into my ear. Jaxon’s lips brush against my cheek before he stands to his full height of six foot four. Habit has my gaze shamelessly roaming up his body until our eyes lock once more. The right side of his mouth curves up on cue, scorching out the fire he started deep inside my core.

  “No, you won’t, Officer Di—” I stop myself from finishing the nickname I gave him and choose the higher road. “Be safe, Officer Kavanaugh.”

  He walks toward the closed door to my office but before he opens it to step out, he turns his attention back to me, waiting a beat before he says, “I love you, Em.” With that, he’s out the door.

  No way. No fucking way he just said that. Those words have never left that man’s mouth, except for saying it to his mother and younger sister. I’m sure when he was younger he said it to his father too until he was shot in the line of duty and died in the operating room.

  “What the fuck!” I yell out, not caring who hears my inappropriate outburst.

  Slumping over my desk, I begin to bang my head against the solid wood.

  “Brenda,” I snap out into the intercom. “Cancel the rest of my day…please. I’m going home.”

  Chapter Three

  Another two weeks have gone by since Jaxon dropped the “L” bomb on me. I know he said it to get a reaction out of me and boy did it ever. After I left work that day, I hid at home, locked away behind the iron gates and holed up in my home office. Thankfully, technology allows for me to stay hidden away, even if it’s just for a little while.

  Immersing myself in work, the gym, and cheesy rom-coms has helped get what happened in my office out of my head. I’ve been too afraid to go for my normal drive, which usually helps erase the crazy thoughts I’ve been having. It was somewhere between my second pour of Macallan 25 and Bridget Jones’s Baby when I finally pushed that day to the darkest part of my brain where everything ‘Jaxon’ is now securely stored but not forgotten.

  I know I can’t stay cooped up in my house much longer. Cabin fever is seriously setting in, so I texted Brenda to see if she wants to grab a bite to eat. Her husband is one of the good guys and he encouraged her to go have dinner with me. Their daughter has a cold and Brenda hates leaving her when she’s sick, but he shoved out the front door, in a loving way of course.

  She makes her way to the Audi Q7 and my driver, Ms. Charlotte, opens the back door for her.

  “Driver tonight?” she asks suspiciously.

  “I already had a couple of drinks,” I respond honestly.

  “So, where are we headed?”

  “Empire Steakhouse. I’m in the mood to stuff myself with good food and even better drinks.”

  Ms. Charlotte had the radio on low so Brenda and I can have a conversation. In the middle of Brenda telling me about her daughter’s green sticky snot, I hear a breaking report of an officer-involved shooting.

  “Turn up the radio, please.”

  While listening to the reporter give the details of what happened, my anxiety begins to build.

  “Say the officer’s name for fuck’s sake,” I snap out at the radio as if the reporter can hear me.

  “Emery, you are kind of hurting my hand,” Brenda says. I look down and see that I have her left hand crushed inside my right hand.

  “Oh God, I’m sorry, Bren,” I apologize and release my death grip on her delicate hand.

  It takes me a moment to notice that Ms. Charlotte has pulled off to the side of the road. We’re all listening intently to this moronic reporter babble on and on about the robber when he finally says the name of the officer involved.

  “Officer Kavanaugh was shot while apprehending the suspect. He was taken to Saint Rose’s Hospital, where he’s currently being treated. There is no update on Officer Kavanaugh’s condition—”

  “Turn it off and get me to Saint Rose’s, fast.”

  “It didn’t sound too serious, Em. Jaxon’s a strong guy. He’ll be fine,” Brenda offers with the hope of easing my panicked state.

  The conversation continues between Brenda and Ms. Charlotte the rest of the drive, which felt like forever. As soon as the Audi stops, I jump out of the back seat and rush into the emergency room heading straight to the nurse’s station.

  “I’m a-a-a—” My brain freezes; it completely stops working. I can’t string words together to form a cohesive sentence.

  “She’s the girlfriend of the wounded officer,” Brenda informs the nurse from behind me. I look over my shoulder at her with a puzzled expression. “Could you please tell us where we can find him or wait for him?” Her tone is calm and I’m anything but calm. Thank goodness she’s with me.

  “Take the elevator to the third floor, exit to the left and head down to the surgery waiting area. That’s where you’ll find the group of officers waiting for Mr. Kavanaugh to get out of surgery,” the nurse instructs with a warm smile.

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  Once we’re in the elevator, Brenda grabs my hand to provide friendly support. All I can think about is Jaxon. Is he okay? How many times was he shot? Did he really mean it when he said he loved me? Damn him and his wicked plan to etch himself back into my life.

  We follow the nurse’s directions and make our way to the waiting room. It’s standing room only. It always warms my heart when I see how the brothers in blue come together in times like this. Sadly, it happens more often than the world knows about, and sometimes the outcome is a family left without a loved one. Police officers are disliked and hated in some places, but all they are trying to do is their job. They are trying to protect the community they serve and then return home safely after each shift, but too often they get treated worse than the bad guys. They get treated like they are the bad guy.

  “Long time no see, Emery.”

  I look up to see Cooper, Jaxon’s best friend and the man who had to come over and uncuff my naked ass from Jaxon’s bed.

  “Coop,” I greet him, avoiding eye contact. I feel the heat rising up to my cheeks.

  “Hey, nothing to be ashamed of, Em. You’re smokin’ hot,” he says in a playful tone.

  “He’s just trying to lighten the mood, Emery,” Brenda whispers in my ear. I nod.

  “Where’s Jaxon’s mom and sister?” I ask after noticing they weren’t in the room.

  “They’ve been in London visi
ting family for the past two weeks. I called Ashley and let her know. They should be here late tomorrow night or early the next day,” Cooper answers. All I can do was nod my understanding.

  “How are you doing, Brenda?” Cooper asks.

  While they carry on a light conversation, I walk out of the stuffy waiting room and start toward the nurse’s desk when I feel a tear trickle down my cheek and then another. If Jaxon meant what he said, what does that mean for us? He has fucked with my head so many times that I don’t know if it was just another cruel joke. And then I think about his father and how he died in the OR. Now the waterworks really begin to flow.

  Once I reach the nurse’s station, I grab a Kleenex from the box on top of the desk and wipe away the tears that have escaped my eyes. I don’t know how long I stand in that spot, but his voice has me whipping around to face him. He’s standing in front of me wearing jeans, a white T-shirt that hugs each muscle perfectly, and his right arm in a sling.

  “Jaxon,” I croak out, throwing myself at him. I wrap my arms around him and squeeze him tightly.

  “Em, you’re hurting me,” he coughs out with an easy laugh.

  “How-I mean, what-how?” This man flusters me as it is, but having been worried about his injury has me all kinds of stupid.

  “Two of the rounds hit my vest and one got my shoulder. It was a clean shot. Bullet went all the way through.” His explanation is nonchalant, like it happens every day.

  “Jaxon, you were shot. Don’t downplay it like it’s no big deal.”

  “Yeah, I know. It’s part of the job, Em.”

  I hate those words, ‘It’s part of the job.’

  “Officer Kavanaugh, here are your discharge papers, some pain medication to get you through the next couple of days, and your prescription for more,” the nurse purrs out. “Do you have a ride home? My shift is—”

  “I’m his ride,” I butt in, cutting her off before she can finish throwing herself at him. “Thank you.” Snatching his discharge papers and written prescription from her hand, I turn to Jaxon. “Ready?” He reaches out to take the pain medication bottle from the nurse’s other hand and gives her a sympathetic smile.