by C. P. Smith
“Blaine West?” Kade asked.
“Yeah, he works for Slater’s brother. Security to the rich and famous,” Prez smiled.
“Who’s this Slater?” I asked Kade.
“Brody Slater was a SEAL, so was Blaine West. We graduated BUD/S with them. West took a bullet to the knee after being thrown clear of an IED blast that took out the Humvee he and Slater were traveling in. He and Slater are lucky to be alive, but the minute that bomb exploded, their Naval careers were over. The last I heard, Slater was still rehabbing in Las Vegas.”
“He’s still there and still hacking in his down time,” Prez confirmed. “He was able to pull Drum’s record for us last night. He’s ex-Army, but no criminal record.”
“Until now,” I added.
“Until now,” Prez agreed.
“So, where do we go from here?” I asked.
Kade turned and raised a brow at me.
“We don’t go anywhere from here. You go back to managing your dad’s office.”
I don’t think so.
After everything I’d been through, they weren’t gonna freeze me out.
“Maybe you’ve forgotten, but I’m in the thick of it. Pirate Roberts just tried to kidnap me, so like it or not, I’m involved,” I stood and argued.
“That’s exactly why you’re out. No more gallivanting around town looking for the killers. No more putting your life at risk, do you hear me?”
Translation: Do as I say or else.
“Did you just order me around?” I asked icily.
“Uh, yeah, Harley,” Kade responded, unfazed by my tone. “I didn’t just spend two years in prison for this shit just to have you hurt on my watch. You’re done.”
“So you’re saying ‘It’s my way or the highway?’”
“You got it, baby. In this situation, it’s a dictatorship. You’re done.”
Ask a stupid question . . .
“I suppose when you say ‘jump’ I’m supposed to say how high?” I mumbled, but not low enough because Kade narrowed his eyes at me. Whatever, I wouldn’t be deterred by a little scowling. “You know I did fine on my own before you got out,” I defended.
Kade opened his mouth to argue, but Mickey decided to jump into the fray at that moment.
“Princess has a point, King. She handled herself like a pro. You should have seen her in action, man. She was impressive. I’m not ashamed to admit I have a bit of a crush,” Mickey said in my defense.
“Thank you, Mickey,” I replied smiling.
When I looked at my father and Prez for further backup, I noted that the room had grown eerily quiet. Dad was staring at Mickey as if he’d lost his mind and Prez was shaking his head. I turned to Kade and saw his eyes were darting back and forth between Mickey and me, coolly assessing us. He broke the silence a moment later. In a calm voice, that didn’t match his ridged posture or the anger bouncing off him he asked, “Princess?”
“Yeah,” Mickey responded with a grin. Somehow, he’d managed to miss that Kade was morphing into a man on the edge of murder. “She’s hot as hell like Buttercup, what with all that long blond hair and curvy ass.”
Oh, dear Lord.
My dad coughed and shook his head, muttering, “Jesus,” while Mickey shot Kade questioning eyes. Kade’s face went blank as fury seemed to swirl around him like a cloak. He was shutting down just like he had in Hinkle’s office.
With calculated movements, he curled his arm around my shoulder, tugged me into his side, plastering my front to his body. His jaw had set in a hard line that made granite look soft. He didn’t seem angry, though; he seemed cold as ice, distant, as his dark eyes stared Mickey down. He curled me tighter into his side, crushing me with a death grip, and it was then I could feel his body trembling as he fought for control.
I was wrong; he wasn’t shutting down, he was holding back.
I knew certain men could be possessive, but this seemed different somehow. Possessive without a doubt, but personal at the same time.
“D, we need to have a serious talk,” Prez bit out, watching Kade closely.
“What the fuck did I do now? It’s not like I kissed her again.”
“Jesus. Dead man walking,” Prez muttered before his head dropped back and he looked at the ceiling.
Kade kept his eyes trained on Mickey, his breathing slow and deep as he kept me pressed me into his side.
“Maybe we should move on to something else,” I mumbled, trying to break the tension.
“No, we need to finish this now,” Kade stated coldly. “I’ve waited fifteen years to be where I’m standing right now and you, D, of all fuckin’ people, you knew how I felt, since you were there for most of it,” he explained through gritted teeth. I wrapped my arms around Kade’s waist and hugged him back. I was speechless, hearing how important I’d been all these years. Kade looked down at me before he continued and ran the back of his hand across my cheek. Then he turned back to Mickey and finished his thought. “Fifteen years I thought about Harley. Through the adolescent bullshit I brought on myself, the spilling of blood to defend our country, and finally the wrongful imprisonment while my grandfather lay dying. You, of all people, you fuckin’ knew what she signified to me. So do us both a favor, D, and use that pea-sized brain for once and clue in. I’m not tolerant of your bullshit where Harley’s concerned. She’s mine. Not some cheap lay you picked up in a port. Not some no-name woman you can’t remember in a week’s time. Mine. I don’t want your opinion about what’s best for my woman, and I sure as hell don’t need to hear every fuckin’ day that you kissed her. Her name is Harley,” Kade growled, “not princess, not sweet cheeks, or any other name you can dream up while I’m at it since you have a hard time comprehending.”
Mickey looked shell-shocked as Kade spoke. He nodded his understanding when Kade was done, then moved towards him. Standing in front of Kade, Mickey looked contrite.
“I hear you, man. I wasn’t thinking. Go ahead and take your shot, Kade. I deserve it.” Then he tilted his head back and offered Kade his chin.
“What on earth? Mickey, Kade isn’t gonna—Oh, my God. Why did you punch him?” I shouted after Kade landed a right hook that sent Mickey to his knees.
“Payback,” Prez answered, smiling.
“What? Are you telling me when you have a dispute you boys punch each other?”
“Makes sense to me,” my father chuckled.
Of course, it would.
I headed to the kitchen to grab some ice, but to save time, I grabbed a bag of peas from my freezer. I threw them at Mickey then glared at all the men in the room. Including my dad.
“You’re SEALs for God’s sake. Act like it,” I reprimanded.
“Babe, that’s how we keep disputes down in the Navy. One hard punch and the behavior stops,” Kade answered with a grin.
All four men nodded, as if violence in answer to any disagreement made sense. Honestly, I was so mad I could punch them myself.
Hmm . . . On second thought.
“Oh for the love of . . . How often does this happen?”
“D gets punched a lot,” Prez stated.
“So you’re saying he doesn’t learn?”
I’d admit Mickey had a laid-back charm that led you to believe he didn’t take much seriously, so I wasn’t surprised that he hadn’t learned his lesson in the past.
“No, we’re saying he doesn’t use his head before he reacts. He learns after I dole out punishment, but he still finds ways to piss me off,” Kade answered.
“Lesson learned,” Mickey groaned as he stood. “My lips won’t get near princess . . . I mean Harley’s luscious—” Kade raised a brow stopping Mickey in his tracks. Mickey sighed, realized his error, then finished with, “I’ll never look at her again?”
“That works,” Kade agreed, completely serious.
“You’re all children in SEAL clothing.” I sighed.
Kade reached out and pulled my back to his front, wrapping his arm loosely around my middle before he kissed my n
eck.
I guess it’s true what they say. You can’t take the boy out of the man, no matter how macho badass they are.
“Now that we have that cleared up, do you think we can get back to finding this guy who’s after my little girl?”
“I’d say that’s easy enough to accomplish,” Prez answered. “The guy has to work for whomever Drum did. Since we’re all in agreement his murder has to be connected to his work, we stake out Consolidated and see if your Pirate shows there.”
“What about the gunshot wound? Won’t he go to the hospital?” I asked.
“If he’s ex-Army, the same as Drum, then he’ll know how to do a field dressing. Unless the wound is life-threatening, he’ll take care of it himself.”
“You two take shifts at Consolidated; I have to head home to Kyle and Pops. Chapel said he’d hold off releasing a statement to the press until tomorrow, but as chatty as the prison guards are, it will leak, and I want to make sure they don’t upset Pops.”
“I’ll take you if you want?” I offered. “Or you can borrow my Jeep.”
Kade scoffed at my offer, shaking his head slowly as if he thought I was nuts. “If you think I’m letting you out of my sight until this is resolved, think again. Pack a bag, princess, you’re coming with me ’til this is over.” The words dripped with arrogance as if he expected me to follow his orders like one of his soldiers.
“Uh, Kade, I have work to do and I’m perfectly safe at the garage with my dad, Jake, and Davy, and I can stay with Dad until you find this guy.”
Kade completely ignored my protest, as all red-blooded American males do, and then ordered Mickey, without answering me, to go downstairs and load my books into my Jeep.
“Kade.”
“Yeah,” he answered, but didn’t look at me as Prez and Mickey discussed how best to stake out Consolidated.
“Kade!” I said a little louder.
“What, babe?” he replied, but he still didn’t give me his attention.
Grrr.
I was just about to give him a scathing reply when I heard a woman’s voice shouting my name from outside. Turning towards my window, I looked out into the forecourt of my dad’s garage and saw Betty Lou Law, tattoo artist extraordinaire and longtime friend.
Betty Lou and I had grown up together. Her parents lived three houses down and we’d played together in the sandbox from the age of seven. She was an artist by trade and put her talent to work creating unbelievably beautiful tattoos. She traveled around the country, mostly keeping to the south, pulling a small Airstream trailer as her workstation. She got the idea from an Australian tattoo artist by the name of Mimsy who owned a mobile tattoo parlor called Mimsy’s Trailer Trash. Betty Lou, named after her grandmother, went by the name Bette and named her Airstream Bette’s Belle. She had an affinity with all things retro, specifically the 1940’s, and specialized in period tattoos. The side of her trailer was painted to look like the nose of an old B-17 Bomber from World War II and depicted Bette in a sexy bikini from that era.
When she inked customers, she wore the recognizable “We can do it” outfit of World War II. It consisted of a red bandana around her auburn-colored hair, a blue tailored shirt, high-waist jeans, and bright red lips. She cussed like a sailor, was as curvy as a pinup up girl, and was covered in gorgeous tattoos.
Waving at her when she looked up at the window, I motioned her to come up to my apartment.
“Who’s that?” Kade asked when I turned around.
“My oldest friend,” I answered as I headed towards my door.
“Betty Lou Who is here?” Dad asked smiling.
Ripping open the door, I ran to the top of the stairs and waited.
“What’s shakin’, Harley Davidson,” Bette squealed as she ran up the stairs. Bette jumped into my arms and we began to jump up and down as was customary when we saw each other after months of her being on the road.
She jerked back when we heard someone behind us and her eyes moved over my shoulder.
“Well, ahoy there, matey,” Bette purred as she took in Mickey D in a Navy tee. Then Prez and Kade emerged from my apartment and she gasped, “Harley, are you having an orgy? And if so, can I join in?”
I rolled my eyes when three sets of chuckles and broad smiles took in my dearest friend.
“Bette, meet Kade, Prez, and Mickey D. Boys, this is Betty Lou Law.”
“Ma’am,” they replied in unison.
“Screw the ma’am shit. Better yet, screw me,” she exclaimed as she took in all three men, her eyes glazing over as all red-blooded women’s would in the face of all that testosterone.
Dad coughed as he, too, emerged from the apartment to give her a hug, but that didn’t faze Bette. After Dad wrapped her in a big bear hug, she turned back to me.
“Harley Davidson, can I pick and choose or is one of these fine specimens yours?”
“Sadly, one is taken,” I smiled.
“Pity, it’s always been a dream of mine to have three virile—“
“Jesus,” Dad gruffed, silencing her. Unfortunately for him, one of Bette’s favorite pastimes was making my dad blush.
“I’m taken,” Kade said, “but he’s not,” he continued, then pushed Mickey forward in a not so obvious attempt to entice him with my curvy friend.
Bette looked Mickey up and down, tapping her finger against her chin as if she were considering her choices.
“Well, he ain’t sloppy seconds by any means.”
“You’re crazy,” I laughed, hugging her again. It had been too long since I’d seen her, and having her back now was a blessing.
“Just call me Patsy Cline,” she laughed.
“I hate to break up this reunion,” Dad jumped in, “But we gotta get movin’. Harley, I’m taking the dogs with me so they aren’t underfoot.”
“Dad, I haven’t agreed yet,” I stated firmly.
“You’ve been outranked and overruled, little girl. You’re goin’ with Kade and that’s final.”
“Then I’m filing a formal protest! This country is a republic built on democracy. I should have a vote on what I do,” I argued looking at all the men in my life. “All in favor of my staying put?” I asked raising my hand.
“What’s goin’ on?” Bette whispered.
“Raise your hand and vote in my favor then I’ll tell you.”
“Shouldn’t I know the candidate's platform so I can weigh the pros and cons of the election?”
“Fine,” I replied with a sigh. No one else was raising their hand in my favor, so I needed her vote. “The long and short of it is, as you know, Kade was in prison for a murder he didn’t commit. The people who put him there came after me today and now they want to lock me up and throw away the key.”
“Wait, this is the guy you’ve been mooning over since high school?” she replied, stunned. Bette knew all about Kade, of course. She knew that he’d been convicted of murder, that I was convinced of his innocence, along with the fact that I’d lusted after him from afar since I was sixteen.
“The same.”
“Well, I’ll be God—“
“Don’t say it; I don’t need any more bad luck raining down on me today.”
“You always were a straight arrow,” she laughed.
“That’s me, savior of lost dogs and women’s souls.”
“Tell me, savior to God’s forgotten creatures, will you be free to roam while I’m in town if I vote in your favor?”
I opened my mouth to say yes, but Kade vetoed my answer, proving once again that dictatorships were alive and well. “As of right now, she’s in the brig with no chance of parole.”
“We’ll see,” I threw in to be stubborn and glared at Kade.
Bette didn’t seem fazed by the news that I was under house arrest, though. She moved on to Mickey and laced her arm with his instead, saying, “Guess it’s just you, me, and Prez makes three,” as she turned and winked at me. “You boys can fill me in on all the dirt while Mary Poppins here ducks and covers.”
“Tell you what, Goliath, you stop calling me ma’am, and I might let you see my boobs.”
Hearing that, Prez pushed Mickey out of the way and motioned for Bette to take the lead, mumbling, “Ronald Regan at your service, beautiful.” Bette grinned, took his arm, and all three descended my stairs without looking back again. Before they rounded the corner and disappeared out of sight, Kade called out, “Keep in touch.”
We got three hand raises in acknowledgment and then they were gone.
“Interesting friend,” Kade chuckled.
“Bette is an original,” I answered. “You might want to keep in contact with the boys, though; she’s liable to get them into trouble.”
“I’m sure they can handle anything she throws at them.”
I was sure they couldn’t, but I wasn’t about to tell Kade that.
***
Sweat dripped down White’s face and he gritted his teeth as his cousin, Trigger White, worked carefully to extract the slug that had lodged in his left bicep. With each tug, he held his breath and closed his eyes to block out the pain. He’d made it to Trigger’s house before passing out, stumbling up the steps, and pounding on the door. He’d caught the bullet right as he’d tried to pull Harley into his van, halting his plans. Plans that would have ensured the SEALs’ cooperation after he’d had his way with her, now all he wanted was revenge.
“Almost out,“ Trigger said as he pulled the bullet free and packed the open wound with gauze.
“I’ll need more whiskey before you stitch me up,” White hissed as Trigger poured hydrogen peroxide into the wound.
“You need antibiotics to ward off infection,” Trigger mumbled, then passed White a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.
White nodded and took a swig from the bottle. Then he turned the bottle to his shoulder and poured the Jack into his wound. “FUCK!” he roared, as the eighty-proof whiskey disinfected his wound.
“Fuck is right. Jesus, you’re a crazy motherfucker,” Trigger grinned.
“You haven’t seen crazy yet,” White bit out.
The television was playing in the background as Trigger stitched up his cousin’s shoulder. When a report about a single car accident broke the early evening news, White paused his hand.