Light streamed in through the windows from the exterior lighting. He moved in the shadows toward the back of the house. Painted drywall chilled his entire side, but his vantage point allowed him to see the backdoor and the figure on the porch hunched over the deadbolt. After a second the guy straightened.
“Mother fucker.” Fox’s muted words barely registered in the quiet.
Henley James readjusted the picklock tools in his hand, and then shoved at the gun tucked into the front of his pants. The guy looked left, then right, and then hunkered down again.
Fox saw red. This son-of-a-bitch had the balls to come to his family’s home with a gun. It’d be hard to use it with two broken arms. He calmed his raging breaths and formulated a quick plan.
He crouched low and whispered across the wood to the door. He dragged a steadying breath. One hand gripped the knob, while the other settled over the dead bolt.
It was only polite to open the door for a guest.
Fox flipped the lock and yanked the door. James pitched forward, crossing the threshold. Fox greeted him with a fist to the nose. The impact jarred his knuckles, but the crunch gratified a hell of a lot more than the thud of a punching bag. The man wavered, and he locked the bastard under the arms. He pulled the gun from his pants, and then slid it across the floor.
James struggled in his hold. Fox flipped his grip and lowered his shoulder. He hefted the guy off his feet and tossed him onto the stone walkway. Fox flipped the knob lock, and then slammed Lindley safely inside the house.
He stalked forward. James scrambled back.
“You piece of shit. You break your oath, take another with you on the road to hell, only to usher him there ahead of you. And then you come to my home.” Fox slapped his own chest.
“What are you going to do, old man, put me on disciplinary review?” James wiped the blood from his chin. He stood on wobbly legs. Legs that brought him a half a head taller than Fox. “Oh, you’re going to write me up. No, I know. Throw me in jail.”
“I’m going to throw you in jail with all the assholes you put away.” If Fox weren’t so pissed he’d have smiled.
The first hint of trepidation bloated the bastard’s blood-shot eyes. It quickly turned to rage. “You fucked it all up. One more month and I’d have had enough to get out.”
“Chino wouldn’t have let you leave.”
“I wasn’t going to ask permission. I’d have vanished.”
“Like you should have done tonight.”
“Between Chino’s men and yours, I couldn’t get through the front door at the airport. I figured, if I’m going down, I’m taking you with me.”
Fox spread his arms wide.
A crazed sneer rumpled the guy’s face. He lunged forward. In the midst of the man’s angry howl, Fox also heard the undeniable thump of the back door slamming against the wall—the wall he’d been meaning to put a doorstop on for the last couple of months.
He didn’t spare a glance at his wife. Instead, he honed in on his opponent.
James came in straight, fast, and swinging. No time for finesse, Fox stepped in, taking the first hook. He managed to turn enough that the blow glanced his jaw. It shook his periphery for a second. But he didn’t need to see where he was going. He just needed to go. And go hard.
His arms locked the bastard tight. His legs followed. The ground came up fast. James’ breath whooshed into his face. The guy groaned. Fox cinched down like an anaconda. James thrashed and caught him in the jaw. Stars filled the clouded night sky. Still he held fast.
A crack of gunfire ricocheted in the night.
It would have set his heart into arrest…if he didn’t know his woman so well.
“Both of you get up,” Lindley shouted. “And Henley James, so help me God, if you make one move toward my husband, I’ll shoot your arms off and make you that much easier of a target.”
Fox released James and rolled away—again because he knew his women so well.
Her green teddy flitted around her pretty thighs. She trained her personal firearm on the intruder’s chest. In the other hand she held his cuffs out. “I think you know what to do, Chief.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He clicked the cuffs onto James’ wrists and sirens wailed in the distance.
“Seems like your ride’s on its way.” Lindley smiled.
“His ride’s already here.” Tommy slipped through the back gate, shaking his head. “See, when you stick to protocol you miss all the good stuff.”
“That was you out front?” Fox asked.
“Somebody had to keep an eye on you, but it looks like that’s what you have Lindley for.” Tommy tipped his head to his wife, but averted his gaze. “Nice work.”
“I learned from the best.” Lin gave him a wink.
Magically the gesture curbed his need to stuff his fist into James’ belly. It also came dangerously close to rearing the head of another need. Fox handed the piece of shit with the crooked nose and blood-spattered shirt to his friend. “If he gives you any trouble, break his arm.”
“Just one?” Tommy pursed his lips, but kept his gaze on the outlaw.
“And tell everyone to kill the sirens. I’d like to stay in this neighborhood.” He stepped toward his wife. “We’ll be out front in a minute. My wife needs some more clothes.”
Lindley’s gaze dropped to his crotch. She bit her bottom lip and smiled.
Fox stayed a couple of feet back from Lin to keep from attacking her. “On second thought, just take him in. We’ll come down to the station this afternoon. Oh, and I need my cuffs back.”
“Take mine, but sanitize them when you’re done.” Tommy tossed his pair, and then shoved James through the gate while reading the man his rights.
“Miss, I’m going to need you to turn around,” Fox growled.
“You’re crazy,” she giggled—and turned, showing off the supple sway of her bottom.
“You have the right to remain loud.” Fox slid the cuff along her bare shoulders. “Anything can and will be used against you. You have the right to multiple orgasms.” He double-checked that the safety was flipped on her gun, and then slipped the metal around her wrist. “If you cannot take any more and need a safe word, one will be appointed for you. You can decide at any time to exercise these rights.” He sealed her other wrist in the bonds. “Do you understand each of these rights I have explained to you?”
Lindley looked at him over her shoulder. Pink stained her cheeks. Her lips parted on husky breaths. The green of her eyes narrowed into thin disks.
“Yes, officer, I do.”
Introduction
NEED
BY
LINDSAY CROSS
Chapter 1
“That's it!” Lori grabbed the trash bags from the kitchen floor and strode outside. Crisp morning air bit her cheek. Her legs scissored down the drive. She plopped the trash behind her husband’s car. Three days. Three days he’d come home from work, walked straight to the dining room, and buried himself in case files.
Lori’s anger rose with the sun. No more bending over backward to make everyone happy. No more moping through their house, picking up after everyone. Today was a new day.
By the time she re-entered the kitchen the automatic coffee maker had filled her cup. She mixed in vanilla creamer and sugar—her one lapse in food control for the day—and sipped. The deep, dark aroma of Arabian strong filled her mouth. This used to be her favorite time of day. She and David would sit together and sip coffee in the quiet. No kids. No housework. No distractions.
Pounding footsteps sounded on the stairs. Too heavy to be the kids. Her heart picked up. She hastily poured a cup for her husband and held it at the ready. Maybe if David stopped, even for a second, she’d warn him about the trash-trap behind his car. Maybe he would kiss her and tell her how much he loved her.
David rushed through the kitchen, ignoring the coffee. He brushed a faint kiss on her cheek. She caught the scent of his soap—fresh and masculine. She barely had time to tilt her head be
fore he bolted for the door.
Lori turned and poured his coffee in the sink. Each drop seemed to burn straight through her veins. She watched the dark brew swirl and spin down the drain, taking her heart with it. She had the fleeting notion to turn on the garbage disposal, grind it up to match the heart David had crushed.
She leaned against the counter and sipped from her steaming mug. David’s engine whispered to life. A heady sense of justice filled her. She’d asked him to take the trash out every day. And each day he’d ignored her request.
His serviceable sedan was energy-saving quiet, but she knew the minute he hit the garbage. Energy-saving or not, squealing brakes sounded the same. Seconds later his car door slammed. Their entire suburb likely heard his curse.
She could have straightened from her slouch against the counter, but didn’t bother. If he couldn’t bother to be a husband, she wouldn’t bother to be a wife.
The kitchen door banged against the wall, probably knocking a small hole in their sheet rock, definitely chipping off some baby-blue paint.
“What the hell were you thinking?”
David stalked forward. Dark sweatpants and a hoodie hid his narrow waist. His normally close-cropped blond hair hung as shaggy as his beard. He’d transformed into someone she didn’t recognize. Someone his undercover work created.
A dangerous cop turned criminal loomed over her. Not her husband. Not the father to their children. Not a part of their family.
He was a stranger.
“I’m sorry, are you speaking to me?” Lori knew her words would piss him off, but didn’t care. She welcomed anything more than indifference.
“Who the hell else would I be talking to? The goddamn trash fairy? I know you put that garbage behind my car. You knew I wouldn’t see it.” His steel-grey eyes burned liquid silver. In ten years of marriage and two children, waves of anger had never rolled off him as they did now.
“Well if you’d bothered to do what you said you'd do three days ago, you wouldn’t be in this mess. I asked you to take out the garbage. You said you would. You failed to comply. So I did it for you.”
David roared and slammed a fist into the cabinet beside her head. Lori pulled back. The first inkling of anxiety edged into her haze of anger. “Now I have to ride to work in a car covered in trash. I’m not cleaning that shit up. I’ll let it rot before I pick up your mess.”
Lori sat her coffee cup down and straightened. She yanked her robe tighter, as if the flimsy silk offered any protection. On the outside, she remained calm. Collected. Inside she trembled. Hurt and anger competed for dominance. “That's exactly what I'd expect from you.”
The anger won out. She narrowed her eyes. David’s chest heaved, but he stepped back. “I’m used to doing everything by myself. Cooking. Cleaning. Climaxing.”
“Goddammit! No wonder we haven’t had sex in a year! I come home to a cold wife because you’ve already taken care of yourself.” David’s chest swelled, his shoulders tightened. He met her toe to toe.
“Someone had to, because you’ve failed in all departments. Besides, it’s not like you’re good for anything but passing out on the couch, after you clutter the dining table for hours on end.” Her veins swelled with emotion. All those feelings and lonely nights poured out.
“What do you want me to do? Quit my job? You’d lose your precious house. Your reputation as the perfect-fucking-mom of the year.” He yelled, punctuating each word. Did he think she was some trophy housewife with a PTA brain?
“I could give a load of dog shit for this house. This life. You think I care about that?” She wanted her husband back. She wanted her life back. Her heart.
“You took on this big-time case. Big time drug dealer. And you forgot about me. About us. About your family,” Lori said. David had gone from barely-there to gone.
“Lori…”
“I don’t know who you are anymore. But I know who you’re not. You’re not my husband. You’re not our kids’ father. You’ve turned into a stranger.” Lori sucked in a breath, the words burning her throat like acid. “I can’t take it anymore.”
David jerked back, as though she’d slapped him. His expression flashed from anger, to shock, and then back to anger. Tears cracked her shield and fell down her cheeks. She wiped at them, abrading her skin with the force. He didn't get it. Or he didn’t care.
“You want a divorce?” His words stabbed her, ripped open her chest. Divorce? The thought never entered her mind. But she trembled at the thought that David might want to leave her.
Maybe he hadn’t been gone all those nights for his job.
Maybe he’d been with another woman.
She stumbled back and grabbed the counter for support. An image of him kissing some leggy blonde with stripper boobs flashed through her mind. Was that the reason for his neglect, his forgetting she even existed? “Have you been cheating on me? Is that why you’re never here?” Her voice was weak, all the anger sucked out and flushed down the shit-hole of her drowning marriage.
“What? What the hell are you talking about? You think I’m gone to be with another woman? I am an undercover agent. My job doesn’t shut down at five o’clock. You’re talking about ending our marriage over some imaginary female?” David’s voice filled with incredulity. Like she’d lost her mind. And she almost wavered, almost gave in.
“Is that what you want?” Lori took a deep breath, her throat burning like the words were shards of glass.
“No. I want my wife back. The girl I fell in love with.”
“I’m not a girl! I’m a woman. A mom. I drive a freaking minivan! You’re gone for work every week. The kids barely see you on the weekends. I didn’t sign up to be a single mom.”
"I can't believe you said that. I work my ass off for this family. Everything I do is to give you and the kids the things you want!" David wrapped his fingers around her arms and held her prisoner to his gaze.
"I don't want this. The kids don't want this. They want their father. They want you to go to a baseball game. You haven't even seen Tim play this year. And Miley? Did you know she's moved up to level four in gymnastics? After only six months?" The words kept coming; all the hurt that had built inside spilled like a downpour.
Her words hit the mark and David flinched. Instead of satisfaction, remorse weighted her shoulders like a wet coat. Deep down, she knew David worked so hard for them. For their family. Or he used to.
"You think I don't want to be there? I would rip out my goddamn heart, stick it in a golden canister, and give it to you if I could. I hate not being here but my only option is to quit my job." David leaned forward, as if he could make her understand simply by proximity.
Lori bowed back, suddenly unsure what to say. What did she want him to do? She didn’t want him to quit his job. He loved his job. At least she thought he did. He used to talk to her about his cases, how much he loved getting the bad guys. But now it seemed all she saw was the back of his shirt on the way out of the door. And sometimes not even that.
"Can you take fewer cases? You've worked there for ten years, you've climbed the ladder, why do you have to continue to search for more?” When you have more standing right here.
"What do you think happens when you go undercover? That I can suddenly hand all my cases off to everyone else? No, they all look to me to get the job done. To finish the case. I'm not going to put off my responsibilities on someone else just because you’ve got your feelings on your sleeve all of a sudden."
“I'm not asking you to hand your cases off, I'm asking you not to take so many on in the first place. You work so hard at your job—that's why you're so good at it. And I'm so proud of you. But you need to work hard at your marriage too, because you suck at it. And I'm not going to stand around forever waiting on you to be my husband again."
The minute the words left of her mouth she wished she could take them back. But words didn't come with a return receipt. Once they left, there were no take backs.
David’s eyes widened. Hurt fla
shed hot in their steely depths. "Are you threatening to leave me?" he whispered, his voice wrong… broken.
She wanted to scream, No, she didn't mean what she’d said, but she couldn’t. A part of her meant it. She was tired of being alone. Tired of making all the day-to-day decisions. She was just plain tired.
"The last thing I want to do is leave you. I love you. I've always loved you. And I need you. I need the man I married back."
Chapter 2
The file on David’s desk stared up at him, daring him to finish the last few lines. Like he could concentrate on a drug dealer when the wrecking ball of his wife's words shattered his ability to concentrate.
She wanted him back. But he never left.
“Ready to celebrate? The whole team wants to buy you a drink.” Garrett, his partner and best friend, poked his dark head through the door.
“Celebrate?” A more pressing matter gnawed on his brain.
“Your guy got the video of DeShawn committing murder. You slapped the cuffs on the bastard yourself. Hell yes we’re gonna celebrate.” Garrett eased into one of the police-issued pleather chairs in front of the desk. His shoulders were almost too broad to fit the chair’s small confines.
“Yeah, um, I’m gonna pass.” The energy to stamp the case as closed evaporated. Never, in their entire relationship, had Lori spoken to him with such… fury.
“What the hell’s up, man?” Garrett’s dark brown eyes bored into David’s. Four years in college, then the police academy, and now partners, Garrett knew him better than anyone. Hell, Garrett had been the one to first introduce him to BDSM. And Lori.
“Lori. She all but said if I don’t start spending some time at home, she’s done.”
“Shy, timid, Lori? Your submissive?” Garrett’s incredulous voice filled the office and David jumped up and slammed his office door shut.
“Yes, my wife. It seems she’s found her voice.” And David had gotten the message loud and clear.
Anticipation: A Heart & Handcuffs Anthology Page 4