by Tara Brown
Dear Naked Neighbour
Book One of the Dinner Club Series
By Tara Brown
Copyright 2017 Tara Brown
http://TaraBrown22.blogspot.com
eBook Edition
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. No alteration of content is permitted. This book is a work of fiction; any similarities are coincidental. All characters in this fictional story are based entirely on the crazed mind of the author and are not based on any human. Any similarities are by chance and not intentional.
Cover Art by Broken Arrow Design
Edited by Andrea Burns
Other Books by Tara Brown
The Devil’s Roses
Cursed
Bane
Hyde
Witch
Death
Blackwater
Midnight Coven
Redeemers
Betrayers – Coming soon
The Royals Trilogy
A Royal Pain
A Royal Affair – Coming soon
The Born Trilogy
Born
Born to Fight
Reborn
The Light Series
The Light of the World
The Four Horsemen
The End of Days
Imaginations
Imaginations
Duplicities
Reparation – Coming soon
The Blood Trail Chronicles
Vengeance
Vanquished
Valiant – Coming soon
The Crimson Cove Mysteries
If At First
Second Nature
Third Time’s a Charm
Four Crimson Corners
Hang Five – Coming soon
The Single Lady Spy Series
The End of Me
The End of Games
The End of Tomorrow
The End of Lies – Coming soon
Blood and Bone
Blood and Bone
Sin and Swoon
Soul and Blade
Puck Buddies
Puck Buddies
Roommates
Bed Buddies
My Side
The Long Way Home
The Lonely
LOST BOY
First Kiss
Sunder
In The Fading Light
For Love or Money
This series is based in Canada. The spelling is Canadian English.
Chapter One
Lotioning
“Seventeen, what’s your favourite song from this year?” Mike asked softly in my earpiece, from his hiding spot in the far side yard of the house we were watching.
“’Love on the Brain,’ Rihanna,” I answered equally quiet from the dark shadow where I observed my side of the house.
“Bro, that’s the lamest answer I’ve ever heard. I think your vagina just grew a set of tits.”
“Says the guy who still says tits,” I muttered, noting the movement in the house through the window. Whoever it was had been pacing for hours. “Movement inside again.”
“I got your back, Seventeen. RiRi’s my jam too. “’Love on the Brain’ is hot.” Ashley, the third member of the team, laughed. “That line about fistfighting fire or something, it’s a cool line.”
“Thanks, man.” I offered a slight wave and ducked back into the bushes. “Suck it, Four.”
“Uh, speaking of sucking, did either of you fun bags happen to catch the talent next door?” Mike groaned into the mic, making my earpiece vibrate disturbingly with his lust. “Holy shit. She’s rubbing lotion on her legs right in the window. Damn. Mmmmm, that’s right, rub it on for Daddy.”
“Four, focus,” I snapped as a car pulled up to the back driveway.
“Can you guys see this? She lotioning her boobs, in the window. Forget fistfighting fire, I think my dick’s on fire.”
Grimacing, I glanced up from the hedge as Ashley chuckled into our ears. “Fiery dick is not something we have to share, bro. Get some cream and treat that shit, privately, like all the other self-respecting men do.” Ashley lifted a thumb into the air, the only movement in the shadows of the large van parked half a block from us.
“Oh, for the love of God and Seventeen’s virginity, can we stop playing like the sexy neighbour rubbing her bare-ass body isn’t hot?”
“I’m not a virgin.” I said it for the hundredth time. I didn’t even know why I defended my sex life anymore.
“Bare? Did you say bare assed?” Ashley sat up, making a lot more movement in the van. The streetlight reflected as his scope shifted to a different part of the house. “Oh man, she’s fucking naked. Like naked, naked. Seventeen, Four’s right. She’s lotioning her naked body, for real.”
“Guys. Lotioning isn’t a word.” I shook my head, despite being alone in a bush and they couldn’t see it. “We’re not watching her house, eyes on the prize. This is indecent.”
“She’s right in the window. She’s doing it on purpose. I’m sending a snap.” Mike sounded desperate for me to see, or be in on the crime.
“No!” I said louder than I should’ve, but it didn’t change anything. My phone still vibrated in my pocket. I sighed. “Not cool, Four.”
“You just made porn out of some unsuspecting woman. I hope you’re happy with yourself.” Ash laughed.
“I am happy. Very happy. That’s going in the spank bank for later.” Mike chuckled into the mic.
“Man, I always miss the good stuff,” Matt joked from back at the shop.
“Cut the shit,” Phil, our sergeant, grumbled into the mic.
“Gramps, we got movement on the south side. Someone’s coming in the backyard through the gate. They got something in their hands, something big. Duffle maybe.” I took several pictures of the man, sending them for analysis and to my partners in case they had recognition.
“Oh shit, that’s Heinrich Dubhe,” Ashley grumbled. “Shit’s about to get heavy. If he’s linked to this house, then the involvement ladder just got higher. The owner of the house must be a bottom rung.”
“What self-respecting drug dealer has the last name Dubhe? Like he didn’t think, ‘Fuck, my last name is the other word for joint. That’s too obvious.’” Mike sighed.
“Self-respecting and drug dealer don’t mix. Chatter to a minimum,” I whispered before Phil did. He was a ball-buster of a sergeant.
We sat in silence, waiting for something to happen. The bushes next to me cracked and rustled. I turned sharply, seeing a small animal, likely a cat.
Movement in the house dragged my eyes back that way. I whispered again, “Someone’s leaving.” The burly drug dealer left the house we suspected was a possible lab. The person inside, who we believed was Carter Hemple, the owner of the house, was no longer pacing. “It’s Dubhe, no duffle this time.”
“Seventeen, are you losing your V-card to the lotion lady photo?” Mike laughed.
“Yeah, dude, that bush you’re in is moving something fierce.” Ashley joined in.
“That’s the bush next to me, assholes. There’s a cat I think,” I whispered.
“Awwww, you’re alone with your first pussy,” Matt taunted me, even though he couldn’t see us.
“Gramps, at what point am I allowed to say this is sexual harassment?” I muttered to Phil and followed the suspect to en
sure I got plates in my last photos.
“I think the cat should be asking that, not you,” Ash joined them.
“Screw you all.” I snuck along the rustling bushes, scaring the cat out into the yard. “Dubhe just got into his car, I got the plates. I sent them off to you, Meehov.”
“Meehov? You’re not still calling me that, are you? That’s so last month,” Matt remarked snidely, clearly not loving whatever his new nickname was.
“Yeah, now we’re calling him SS.” Mike laughed again.
“I don’t want to know,” I murmured and watched the house again.
“No, you don’t.” Matt sighed.
“The movement inside just ended. We need some eyes inside, Nine,” I said to Ashley.
“On it,” he whispered back. The reflection from the Range-R in his hands glinted under the streetlights as he put the handheld device up to his face. He was far enough away no one might have noticed, but I did. “Yeah, there’s no one there. No heat sources at all. The infrared isn’t getting anything.”
“Shit.” I tapped my finger on my gun and took a breath. “If there’s no heat, we need to exit.”
“Call a disturbance in to the local police, Nine. In case there was something inside we didn’t catch, like a homicide. This wouldn’t be Dubhe’s first hit. That’s not our department. Get outta there. Meet at the coffee shop,” Phil said in his usual deadpan tone.
“Ten four.” I crept to the back of the bush as the radio went silent.
Leaving and arriving were our only silent times. The rest of the time we joked far too much, far more than Phil liked.
Fortunately for the rest of the police force, we always spoke on a closed channel so no one had to suffer along to the Mike and Matt show. They usually filled the air like there were twenty of us, instead of five.
I snuck through a neighbour’s yard to their fence and jumped into the backyard, making my way to the alley. From there, I went into a driveway to the opposite side of the street, one block over from the house.
My unmarked car was two blocks over and when I got there, Mike was already waiting for me, grinning. “You see that picture?”
“No.” I scowled and started the car. “Jesus.”
“Hey, don’t get shitty with me. I just got you a hot date. You’ll be spanking it later to ‘Love on the Brain’ and staring at her.” He winked. “You can thank me tomorrow.”
“You’re a freak.” I drove across town to the coffee shop we always sat in, just five regular guys having some pie and coffee.
We were never just five guys.
We were never just having pie and coffee.
And there was nothing regular about why we were there.
“So that was a weird stakeout,” Mike mumbled like he was lost in thought. “I don’t get it. Dubhe, randomly shows up at Carter Hemple’s house, bringing a duffle bag, and the person inside, who we assume is Hemple, stops moving. And then Dubhe leaves without the duffle and the person inside doesn’t move anymore.” Mike tapped his foot on the glovebox. “Makes no sense. Maybe if it was reversed?”
“Well, maybe the person inside was never a person. Maybe they’re onto us watching the house. Maybe they set something up.”
“Maybe. I doubt it though. It’s the second night on this place. And who the hell is Hemple to the cartel world? I mean honestly, he’s a douche who owns a CrossFit gym and overdoes it on the ‘roids.” Mike yawned. “I’m ready for bed.”
“You mean sleep.” I cracked a grin and side-glanced at him.
“Right. That is a distinction someone like me has to make.” He yawned a second time.
Mike was the strangest guy in the world, and not the sort of person who should ever become a cop, and yet he was good at it. He suited the undercover lifestyle: up late, no uniform, and blending in with the rest of society.
We all did, just in very different ways. We didn’t belong to the same groups in society, none of us.
Mike was the typical ladies’ man and not shy about the fact he treated most women like sex toys. But they treated him the same way back or, according to Mike, liked being treated that way, so it worked for him.
He lived by some archaic rule system written by the Wiserhood.
He didn't date.
He didn’t eat meals with women he was going to screw.
He didn't sleep over.
And no one ever slept at his place.
“I got no sleep last night.” He rubbed his eyes.
“The old lady?” I couldn't resist. Every woman came and left from Mike’s life without even a kiss goodnight, except the old lady. The difference there was that he collected a bit of cash at the end, plunked down by the old woman to make herself feel better about the fact she was having an affair. She was his only regular too. Normally, girls got into a rotation for a couple of months and then got dumped.
It was all pretty seedy and something he should have been ashamed of. Especially as a law enforcement officer.
But he didn’t feel shame, we’d established that.
“Yeah. She came by late. Her husband’s in Italy at some conference.” He shook his dark head and ruffled his longish hair. “She’s a strange bird, that one. Left me a hundred bucks again. This time it was in the bathroom, tucked under the tissue.” He scoffed. “I don’t get it.”
“You’re wearing a tee shirt with holes in it and your jeans are stained with mustard and grease. Maybe that's why she leaves the money.” I pulled into the parking lot of the coffee shop.
“No, smartass. She never sees me in clothes.” He grinned as if there was something to be proud of.
“Okay.” I didn't know what else to say. He didn’t get that the old lady gave him money to make it more of a business transaction and less of a relationship to ease her own guilt.
But he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. He wasn’t even really in the shed. He was more like in the yard, rusting.
“You know, if you’re serious about losing the V-card, I could send her your way for a night. Different arrangement, obviously. You’d have to give her the hundred bucks.” He laughed and slapped me on the arm.
“I’m good.” I shuddered at the thought of some married old lady in my bed. I’d seen the mayor’s wife and the massive rock on her finger. I couldn’t see past the thirty-year age difference any easier than I could the ring. Even if I were a virgin, I’d never be that desperate.
When we got inside, he was still laughing at his own joke.
I constantly wondered how he’d gotten into the force with his ethics, but also how he had managed to get on Special O. It was generally a more intelligent section. I had to assume it was his ability to blend in with the regular slobs at the strip club. He didn’t look or act like police.
Phil was already sitting down in our booth, scowling with a mixture of stress and sleepiness roaming his eyes. His usual expression. When he saw us he didn't smile or wave, but his brow did lift mildly.
The server, Lara, a beautiful brunette with a carefree attitude, had the coffee there waiting for us. “Decaf for you, Mike?” She smiled and sauntered off.
He followed her short shorts with his gaze, similar to a wolf watching a fluffy-tailed bunny. “Thanks, Lara.”
“We don't shit where we eat, Mike. Remember?” I muttered and sat, excited for my pie. She always brought me the coconut cream. “Hey, Phil.” I liked calling him sergeant but out and about we said Phil or Gramps.
“Boys,” Phil grumbled, “that was an interesting turn of events.”
I nodded but Mike was hung up on my comment. “I can check out the bathroom without soiling it, Simon,” Mike joked, adding a quarter teaspoon of sugar to his huge mug of decaf. This was Mike’s sad little treat. He was obsessed with carbs and sugars and macros.
His partner in crime, as far as maintaining a healthy lifestyle goes, opened the coffee shop door and sauntered in, grinning wide. “Ladies!” Matt winked at us and then Lara when she poked her head out of the kitchen upon hearing his voice
, “Hello, beautiful.”
“Hi, Matt.” She blushed. “I have your chai on.” It wasn't a menu item, but she made it special for him. Some recipe she learned while she was backpacking in India.
“You ever gonna tell her you girls play for the same team?” Mike grunted at Matt as he sat with us.
“She knows.” Matt scoffed. “Girls know.” He rolled his eyes. “They just think maybe they’ll be the one who brings us back around from the dark side. Or they wanna be besties and shop. I don’t shop.”
“She doesn't know, bro.” Mike’s eyes darted to the kitchen again. “She’s into you, and in my opinion, it’s not cool to lead the poor girl on.”
“You just hate the fact she smells you coming from a mile.” Matt winked at him.
“It’s the Axe body spray. He uses it like it’s moisturizer,” Phil muttered.
We all chuckled, even Mike. It was one of the few things I liked about him; he could laugh at himself.
“Speaking of moisturizer”—he dragged his phone from his pocket—“even you can’t deny the hotness of this photo.” He flashed the image that was currently burning a hole in my pocket. I’d made a point of not looking.
But I couldn't stop myself when he brought the image up.
It was intense.
“Damn. She’s fit.” Matt nodded casually.
“You still have it?” Phil scowled up from his tablet. “Did you think about how illegal it is to take photos of some unsuspecting—?” His mouth closed as he actually saw the photo. “Delete that shit,” he spoke after a second of staring.
She was tall, lean, tanned, fit, and stacked in all the right places. It was like seeing Supergirl naked. She was leaning forward, rubbing lotion on her calf with her foot resting on the toilet lid. A full side profile of a gorgeous naked woman.
Matt was the only one who tore his gaze from it without blinking. “Where’s Ash?” he asked, and we all heard him but nobody answered. “Dudes!” He waved his hand in front of Phil’s eyes.