Intimate Fear

by D. C. Stone

  A dark police cruiser pulled up to the curb as Hailey reached the street. Brooke smiled at the familiar sight.

  Detective Dwayne Gonzalez.

  This was common as Dwayne normally drove by her place at about the same time each morning to pick Hailey up for school. While this should be a parent’s job, making sure their child got to their destination safely, Dwayne had been a fixture in Hailey’s life for so long it wasn’t something any of them thought twice about. Since he had a major drug investigation going on at the school, the pick-ups were coming every day now.

  The passenger’s tinted window drew down and a deep voice rumbled out of the vehicle.

  She closed her eyes against the involuntary shiver. Dwayne’s voice oozed sensuality and sin. Combined with his looks, he was a lethal combination to a woman’s senses.

  They’d known each other since elementary school, and while that was close to twenty-five years ago, it seemed just yesterday that he was running behind her, snapping her bra against her back. Despite the teasing, and regardless of her irritation, he’d remained at her side, a loyal friend ever since. He had been a rock when she needed him most, and now, a friend to help when she required a crutch.

  Hailey laughed at something he said before nodding and opening the side door. She slid inside and flashed Brooke a smile, leaning out the window, blowing loud kisses, and waving as the cruiser pulled away. Lifting a hand, Brooke caught a flash of white teeth and a masculine hand wave before she turned and went inside.

  Chapter Two

  Dwayne pulled away from the curb and checked his side view mirror as he eased back on the road. His vision still burned with the perfect picture of Brooke standing in the doorway. Long, thick sandy blondish-red hair fell around her shoulders. Eyes a blue so pale they reminded him of Alaska’s melting glaciers shone across the expanse of space. The encounter lasted for all of ten seconds but refused to leave his mind.

  He glanced over at Hailey, a younger clone, no less beautiful than her mother. Amazing how time sped the older you got. It seemed to be just yesterday when he had been hit with the gut-wrenching news Brooke was pregnant. From afar, he watched as she grew round with child, happiness radiating from her rosy cheeks, which were flushed with the making of life. It seemed like only last night when he coached Hailey’s peewee softball team. At eight, the girl had been a mass of uncoordinated limbs but had more drive than any other on her team. She worked to get where she was today, the star pitcher of her high school squad. It wasn’t the regular practices that pushed her skill level. It was her dedication and patience in learning and practicing a skill until it was perfect. There had been more than one late evening he’d worked with her in the backyard, building strength and endurance. Those memories were often followed by Brooke chewing him out for keeping her up so late, pushing her too hard, and even at times being just a general pain in the ass.

  He chuckled under his breath at that very vivid memory.

  And was it only an hour ago that Hailey transformed into a young woman? He’d watched her grow—faster than he liked, if he had to admit.

  Learning what had been going on in her school, a protective instinct raised its head. There were too many things he wanted to shelter her from, too many uglies of the world she’d yet to see, and with what was happening in her school, he had a feeling things would be introduced to her far too soon.

  Hailey changing the radio station brought his attention back. He glanced over to find deep chocolate eyes studying him. Dwayne arched a brow and pointedly turned his gaze to her hand.

  “You having fun, Hails?”

  She flashed a quick grin and sat back as the sound of some boy band filled the car. He shuddered. Give him ACDC, Metallica, hell, even Dave Matthews Band, but this techno beat with boys who hadn’t hit puberty yet wasn’t his style. Music was not made in the same way anymore.

  “I love this group.”

  He made a face but didn’t respond. Instead, he turned their focus to his investigation at her school. “Listen, I need to talk to you about something.”

  She groaned and shifted on the seat. “Not you, too.”

  He shook his head, confused. “Not me, too? What does that mean?”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as she ran a hand through her hair, grabbed the bottom of her braid, and proceeded to play with the end.

  “Mom got on my case this morning. She doesn’t want to accept I’m growing up. And I love her, I do, but lately I’m feeling smothered. Honestly, I need her off my back. It’s like I can’t breathe. I don’t know if I can handle being around her when she gets like that. I know she means well, D, and I understand what my father did to her. But I’m not going to let it happen to me. I just wish she understood I’m smarter than that. I wish she trusted me.”

  He sat an elbow on the door rest and scrubbed a hand over his short hair. Hell, he was the last person Hailey should be talking to about this stuff. It was one thing to offer her advice on softball and even in school, but on anything dealing with decisions or discussions with her mother, he didn’t want to touch it. Getting involved in any rift between them, especially involving her jerk of a father, wasn’t an avenue he wanted to think, much less talk, about. Being the man he was, and denying himself what he truly wanted, didn’t make him anywhere near close enough to dish out relationship advice.

  “Your mom,” he began, carefully choosing his words, “is just looking out for your well-being. She knows how smart you are. Hell, we all do. I don’t think it’s you she doesn’t trust, but instead the male gender.” He pulled up outside the school, tossed the cruiser in park against the curb, and turned to Hailey. “And trust me when I say men, or boys in this case, only want one thing. And that’s not to make cookies. Plus,” he added, “your father running out on you all like he did does have something to do with why she protects you the way she does, but she does it because she cares for you. We all do. I don’t believe any of us are ready to see you grow up.”

  Her expression softened and she reached over to brush her fingers down the side of his face. “I care for you, too.” She drew back and nodded with a smile. “I understand all that, but really, I can’t handle being suffocated. You can get that, right?” She cocked her head and his mouth quirked as the movement brought a rush of memories back from his high school days when Brooke used to do the same.

  “I can. This isn’t what I wanted to discuss, though.” He arched his eyebrows, pinning her with his no-nonsense stare, and again chose his words with care. “But I do want you to know you can always come to talk to me, no matter what. I’ll listen and try to do what I can to help, understood?”

  Hailey deliberated his face for a few moments, then nodded. “Got it. What’s this thing you wanted to chat about?”

  Dwayne cut his gaze out the window behind her, studied the students milling around the walkway. The red brick building rose from pale concrete like an imposing monster. Dark windows gleamed under the morning light and the green grass sitting outside was starting to brown with the impending winter. “I’m looking into something here at the school. I want you to tell me if you’ve heard anything, okay? And if you have, no matter what it is, you can tell me.”

  He shifted his attention back to her and waited. She bit her lip but nodded. He focused on her body language, the pulse on her neck, her breathing. He didn’t think Hailey would lie to him, but the reports they’d been getting at the Nyack Police Department were unsettling. Being thirty minutes northwest of New York City kept the village plenty busy, but this latest influx of drug activity was something that hit a little too close to home. Especially with his past.

  “There have been some reports of drugs here, Hailey. Do you know anything about that?”

  Her eyes widened and her gaze darted away. He clenched his teeth. Fucking great. Come on, the truth, baby girl.

  “What, like people smoking weed?” Her gaze returned to his, but she fought to keep contact. He ducked his head and held her hesitant stare.


  “No, not marijuana. More like ecstasy, prescription pills of Vicodin and Adderall, even cocaine.” With each drug he listed, Hailey grew more and more still. He stifled the urge to shake her and demand answers. Her body language more than told him she knew something.

  She twisted away and he silently urged her to turn back to him. His right hand clenched and released on the seat behind her head before he reached over and pulled her face back to his with a gentle tug on her chin. “Hailey…”

  She interrupted. “Of course I’ve heard things around school. How could I not? But I’m not using those things if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Like a geyser, he released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Tension eased from his shoulders, his body slowly relaxing from the stress of thinking she may be doing drugs. With the initial question of her possibly using out of the way, he pushed forward. “That’s good, that’s good.” He dropped his hand and glanced back out the window. A young brunette, a teacher here if he remembered correctly, sashayed up to his cruiser. He focused on her for a moment before remembering. She taught freshmen literature, wild in the sack, open to different things, stuff he was more than willing to indulge in. What the hell was her name, though…?

  “Do you know who is selling, Hails?” He kept his focus outside, still trying to remember the teacher’s name, but listened for Hailey.

  “I-I don’t think so,” she stuttered

  That snapped him out of his trance. He swung his gaze back to her. She stared ahead, worrying her lower lip. He bit back a sigh at how uncomfortable this must make her. “Get out, but wait for me.”

  He pushed open the door and stood to his full height, towering over many of the young students walking around, bustling for the front entrance. Latching the middle button of his blue suit jacket, he walked around the front of his car and met Hailey outside the passenger side.

  “Listen, just mull it over. If you think you may be able to help me or identify something that you believe I need to know, you know how to get ahold of me, okay?”

  She didn’t meet his gaze. She was hiding something, he knew it. He just had to get through to her.

  “Hailey, this is important. We have a kid in the hospital right now from an overdose. Drugs he bought from this location put him there and he may not make it out. So if you know something, I will listen.”

  “Okay, D. If I see or hear anything, I’ll come to you.”

  She shifted her feet until he reached out again and caught her chin with his forefinger. With a slight tug, she turned toward him. He flashed her a smile and was rewarded with one in return. “Have a good day, Hailey, and knock ’em dead at tonight’s game.”

  Her smile grew and she winked. “You’ve got company.” Her chin lifted to point behind him. The young teacher waited by the hood of his cruiser. When he turned back, Hailey was strolling away. She walked up to an older kid and tossed her long arms around his neck. The dark-haired kid dipped down and brushed his lips over hers. Dwayne narrowed his eyes and watched as the kid’s hands landed on Hailey’s hips, then slid lower before curving over the bottom of her jeans. With a growl, Dwayne stepped forward.

  “I wouldn’t if I were you, Detective,” a raspy voice said, drawing him to a stop.

  His vision turned red as the kid groped and prodded Hailey’s ass. She didn’t fight against his hold, though, just turned her head back and laughed. “Fuck.” He turned toward the woman who’d spoken. Her hooded gaze ran along his body. She bit her bottom lip and he read the blatant invitation.

  “You never called,” she accused.

  He shrugged, still trying to figure out her name. “I lost my phone.” An outright lie, but small ones didn’t hurt.

  Her red lips parted and a vivid memory struck him, a reminder of how nice her mouth had felt wrapped around his dick. The beast in his pants gave a painful jerk as if it remembered her, too. What the hell was her name?

  “Do you have one now?” she asked.

  He nodded and reached into his suit pocket, pulled out the device, and held it in the air between two fingers. “Are you going to fix my problem?”

  Those red lips curved into a slow smile. “I’m going to fix your problem and then some, Detective.” A slender hand grabbed the cell from his hand. The movement brought her body closer and he took in a deep breath. Apples. He suddenly craved pie. He glanced down as she worked something into his phone and handed it back.

  “Lucy.” Now he remembered. He remembered well.

  Lifting an eyebrow, she tittered. Fingers playing with her red V-neck top drew his attention to the swells of her breasts. “I expect you to make it up to me, Detective Gonzalez.”

  One brow rose as his gaze returned to her face. “Make what up to you?”

  Lips curved more, a hint of white teeth flashing from behind. She stepped closer, her mouth a hairsbreadth from his cheek. “Forgetting my name, of course. Talk to you soon, Dwayne.”

  She brushed her breast across his arm before strolling off and he sucked in a sharp breath. He twisted and watched her long legs strut away until she vanished. The tempting minx out of view, he turned to where Hailey had been standing and found she had disappeared, too. He searched around, but kids were piling inside the school and the warning bell rang.

  Remembering the older kid with Hailey earlier, Dwayne started up the walkway, needing to speak with the principal before he looked around. The way the kid put his hands on her raised protective instincts again, ones that drove all reasonable thought from his head. That wasn’t the real thing bothering him, though. It was the expression the male had when he glanced down at her that drove Dwayne insane. That one look spoke of possession and a hint of danger. A look he had seen too many times from the men his birth mother brought home…before she was murdered.

  Chapter Three

  Ugh. Brooke sat back and stared at the screen of her laptop as if it were the bane of her existence. The words which normally came out like water from a faucet now felt forced, the same water dripping with an annoying sound. Dlub, lub, lub. The writing looked all wrong.

  This was her chance at last, the point where after years of putting everyone else first, she had her moment of opportunity to break through. After spending so much time dedicating her entire life to her marriage and raising her daughter, she’d never been able to go after what she wanted. Now, with Hailey older and more independent, Brooke was able to pursue her dream.

  After her ex, Leo, left, she’d jumped into the raging waters of her life and fought to make sure Hailey had not wanted for anything. When he stepped out of their life, Hailey, at seven years old, took it hard, worse than Brooke. The crying jags at night, the back talking. Everything Brooke had guided her to do—everything—Hailey did the opposite. And while her sweet little girl had tried to hide the hurt, a mother would’ve had to have been deaf not to hear the sobs coming from Hailey’s room at night.

  Luckily, her daughter had outgrown that stage, and the constant drama that had been their lives. So now, since Hailey didn’t require her full focus, Brooke was able to move from a freelance reporter to an associate writer. She’d done small pieces up until now for a decent food magazine out of the city. Just last month, though, she’d been picked to write for Time Magazine. Her first article was due in less than a month to the editor who had so bravely taken a chance on her. With another four thousand words needed, she hoped she would make the deadline and get the deal.

  “No, no, no!” Brooke clenched her fists next to the keyboard and stared at the screen with nothing less than extreme hatred. This! This had been her problem for weeks. The story kept making its own path. Her focus was supposed to be on home decorating and personal beauty, but everything sounded lame and droll—something even she wouldn’t read.

  While the hiring manager initially tried to talk her into a dating column, Brooke had promptly steered the conversation in another direction. She didn’t write romance and had no desire to do so. That wasn’t her interest. She didn’t do lov
ey-dovey crap. Hearts, flowers, and all that wasn’t something she could give. With her past, she would be cheating her readers. The words of love were foreign to her. A fake story of her life. Her history was filled with nothing but heartache and betrayal and lies that led to the death of her marriage.

  Wanting to toss her laptop out the window, she pushed away from the desk, folded her arms across her chest to keep from doing the aforementioned, and turned to the small office window. Outside, the sun shone bright and bathed the lawn and aster bushes in vitamin D. Pink blooms framed the orange disks of the flowers and butterflies danced around the colors, drawn to the sweet smell of the garden. The image stood out in stark abundance, the white fence popping in the background.

  She frowned. The beauty of the world around her glimmered while she sat inside, in a darkened room, typing away at what was supposed to be an interesting column. Outside, life was robust, teasing her with the cheerful circle of living. It didn’t seem fair.

  No more.

  She surged out of the chair, mind made up, and grabbed her running shoes.

  After slipping them on, she dashed outside. Her feet pounded against the asphalt, and Pitbull sang to her alone about how he knew she wanted him. The warmth from the bright orb heated her neck, and Brooke did what she had intended the run to do, she gave in to her thoughts and allowed her mind to wander. This was where she could think, where her thoughts calmed, and the words of her article flowed.

  Air, humid and with the threat of turning any day into the cold winds of winter, flowed in and out of her lungs. Flowers were still in bloom, and colorful leaves hung on trees. The cloudless sky didn’t show any threat of fall. No one not from the northeast would have been any wiser.

  Strength in her legs bounded each kick. Her arms pumped as she turned down street after street, sticking to the back roads and away from traffic. Even with a dark voice singing in her ears, now about hotel room service, she basked in the quietness of the village and was thankful that the recent crime spree no longer existed.