“What’s your problem, man?”
“My problem? How about a homeless drug addict sneaking up on us and grabbing my friend here through the trees? That’s a good start.”
She had preferred lady friend.
Louie scooted himself around so he faced Carter and Diana. “The name’s Louie, for real. I sometimes crash in the abandoned house at night when it’s cold. Last night I tried to get in, but there were a bunch of guys in there already. I think some of them might have been cops.”
“Why do you think they were cops?”
“They had guns and used words like evidence and crime scene.”
“Criminals carry guns too,” Carter snapped.
“Yeah, I know that. These guys were too smart or something. I could tell they were up to no good. I wanted to call the good cops, but I was high. When I saw you two coming, I knew you were a cop, and you didn’t look like any of the guys last night. I wanted to report what I saw.”
“How did you know I was a cop?’
“Come on, man. You scream po-po. The way you walk like you got all that shit on around your waist, and how you are constantly looking everywhere, like you suspect everyone of being dirty.”
Louie was pretty perceptive, for a junkie.
“So you can string together words in a complete sentence. Surprise, surprise,” Carter said.
“Hey, man, I got an education. UVA class of ‘08. I ain’t always been a junkie, you know.”
“Why talk like a kindergarten drop-out, then?”
“Here, I got a persona to maintain. The streets are rough, man.”
“Did you smell bleach when you were there last night, Louie?” Diana asked. She was totally hung up on that bleach, and she had no idea why.
“No. But I smelled blood.”
“Blood?” Diana repeated. “How do you smell blood?”
“You’d be surprised, Di.” Carter replied. “Donnie never talked to you about stuff?”
“We talked. I don’t think he ever mentioned the smell of blood.”
“What else, Louie?”
“That’s all I can remember. Except for the screaming. Someone had a real brutal sounding scream.”
“You okay to stand now?” Carter asked her. She nodded, so he stood up and pulled Diana to her feet.
“On your feet, Louie.”
“Can you give me a hand? I got a bum knee. Old football injury.”
Carter looked at him with surprise. “Louis Simpson? Are you Louis Simpson? Hands down the best quarterback UVA’s ever had. Are you that Louis Simpson?”
Louie turned a deep shade of crimson. “Yeah, that’s me. Or, it was. Don’t tell anyone. I’m not that dude anymore.”
“You went from college football star to pot junkie?”
“I told you. I got a bum knee. It’s medical marijuana.”
“Right, and I suppose you’ve got a little medical meth on you too?”
“Don’t do that shit, man. That shit’ll fry your brain.”
“Right. But not pot.”
“Hey, it’s scientific fact pot ain’t addictive. I can quit anytime I want. I just don’t want to.”
Carter leaned down and grabbed Louie by the elbows, pulling him to his feet. “Where do you hang out, Louie? I mean, when you aren’t crashing in the house?”
“Mostly under the overpass back that way.” He nodded toward Virginia Beach Boulevard.
“How would you like a night in a motel? Hot shower, hot meal, and a clean shirt?”
“Aw, man, there’d be no words.”
“I got a job for you, then.”
“What kinda job?”
“You make your way back to the house and hang around outside.” Carter reached in a pocket and pulled out a small cell phone. “Take this phone and call me if anyone comes or goes right after we leave. Take pictures if you can. You do that, and I’ll see you get the room and a reward. What do you think?”
“I’ll do it,” Louie answered without hesitation. “Hell, I’d have done it for a Mountain Dew and a Snickers bar.”
“You get me something good, and I’ll throw those in as a bonus.”
“Got it, man.” He turned to Diana. “Sorry ‘bout scaring you.”
She offered up a small smile. “Try not to do it again.”
“No problem. I gotta hit the stones now, dude. Got a job to do.”
“Don’t forget to take pictures,” Carter reminded him as Louie sauntered away.
“Things keep getting more and more interesting, hanging out with you,” Diana teased Carter as they continued on to Carter’s truck. He took her hand and tucked it in the crook of his arm.
“I hope the trend continues.”
“Just with a few less accidents,” Diana replied.
They laughed together. Diana felt so relaxed, she almost felt guilty to be so comfortable with a man who wasn’t her husband.
“Do you always carry around an extra cell phone?”
“It’s my backup phone. Like you, I have a tendency to want to be prepared.”
“I guess Jason Mills has rubbed off on you some, huh?”
“I guess you could say that.”
When they were in the truck and back on the road, Diana asked the question that had been on her mind since talking to Louie.
“What do you think Louie was talking about when he said he smelled blood?”
“I wish I knew. It would explain the bleach smell, though.”
“How?”
“People often try to clean up or disguise blood by cleaning it up with bleach. They believe it destroys the evidence.”
“Destroys the evidence?”
“Bleach can denature DNA so it can’t be tested, but it doesn’t necessarily hide blood stains,” Carter said as he pulled onto the interstate.
“So someone was bleeding heavily, and they tried to clean it with bleach.”
“It would appear so. I hate to think who was bleeding—or why.”
“Louie said he thought there were cops at the house last night.”
“I know.”
“Why do you think they were there?”
“I have no idea. But I intend to find out.” He sounded determined; the way Donnie used to, when he was focused on a case. It was always her cue to leave him alone and let him work out whatever was on his mind. They rode the rest of the way to her house in silence.
“Do you want to come inside?” she asked when Carter had parked in the driveway. “I’ll make you a sandwich. It’s lunch time.”
“Okay. A sandwich actually sounds really good.”
They exited the truck, and Diana let them into the house. Carter followed her into the kitchen, where he perched on a stool and watched as she pulled cold cuts and other sandwich fixings from the refrigerator. Neither of them spoke while she sliced tomatoes and chopped lettuce. She was spreading mayonnaise on slices of bread when Carter reached out and took the knife from her hand. He placed the knife on the counter and pulled her toward him. With his hands at her waist, he looked at her.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing. Why would you think something was wrong?”
“Because you look like you are about to cry.”
He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m just thinking how nice it must be for Jackson to grow up with a mom who loves him so much she chops lettuce before she puts it on his sandwich.” He removed his hands from her waist and took hold of her hands, bringing one to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back of it.
She pulled one hand away and used it to push a stray lock of hair back from Carter’s eyes. “I’m not really sure of what I am about say here, so bear with me, okay?”
He nodded, but didn’t say anything.
“Aside from nearly dying in a car wreck, the last few days have been some of the best I have had in a year. I am lonely, and I have been missing Donnie terribly, but meeting you has sort of changed that a little. Okay, a lot. I feel like I have a reason to get out of bed now.�
�� She paused, and tried to read his expression, but the man either had no thoughts, or he was one hell of a poker player. She decided to forge on, and fools be damned if she made a complete ass of herself. “I enjoy your company. You make me laugh, being with you makes me happy, and the things that happen to my body when you touch me, no matter how insignificant the contact, are mind-blowing. I want to thank you for making me feel alive again.”
Carter stood up and pulled her to his chest. His arms wrapped around her, and his breath was hot on her ear as he spoke. “Diana, I want to make you feel a whole lot more than alive.”
His lips found hers before she could speak. The instant heat melted every last one of her cells, until she couldn’t even form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence.
Diana closed her eyes and forgot about the terrible bruises all over her face. She dismissed thoughts of funerals and bleach and junkies with cell phones, letting her entire body be consumed with the energy that emanated from his body to hers.
“Oh, Diana. I have wanted to do this since the day we met.” He moaned as his kisses burned a trail along her jaw line before returning to her lips and deepening the kiss. Diana pushed him back onto the bar stool and climbed onto his lap, never once breaking their kiss. She knew what she wanted, and she was not afraid to take it. Apparently there were advantages to being the older woman. Carter’s arms wrapped around her tightly, holding her close. All those months of being alone melted away.
The front door slammed shut.
“Oh, crap! Jackson.” She jumped off of Carter’s lap, tumbling to the kitchen floor in the process. Carter reached down and pulled her to her feet.
“Mom! You home? Whose truck…?” Jackson entered the kitchen as Diana was straightening her clothes. Her cheeks flamed as blood rushed to her face.
“Why are you here?” her son demanded of Carter.
“Jackson! Don’t be rude!”
He ignored her as he eyed Carter up and down. “I said, why are you here?”
“Jackson,” she said, issuing a warning with her voice, but Jackson acted like she wasn’t even in the room as he tried to stare Carter down.
He put a hand on her arm. “It’s okay, Diana. If I were him, I’d ask the same thing.” To Jackson, he said, “Just checking up on your mom.”
“You don’t need to check on her. That’s what I am here for,” Jackson snapped.
“Why exactly are you home so early, anyway?” Diana asked her son. Her face had finally returned to its normal temperature.
“I cut my last two classes to come home and make sure you were all right. I guess you are pretty fine with Mr. Cop Man here checking up on you.”
“What’s your problem, Jackson?” Diana was furious at her son for acting like such a jackass. She had no idea why he seemed to hate Carter so much.
“Nothing.” He glared at Carter. “You can leave now. I’ll stay with my mother.”
Diana had about enough of her son’s attitude. “Jackson Donald Massey, go to your room!”
Jackson laughed. “What?”
“I said, go to your room.”
“I’m almost eighteen years old! You can’t send me to my room like a little kid.”
“I can, and I am. Go. We are going to have a long talk about what sort of role you think you have in my life. And then we will discuss cutting classes, and acting like a delinquent!”
“At least I’m not acting like some kind of tramp.” To Carter he said, “Dad would be so pissed! He’d kick your ass, you know!”
“Upstairs, now!” She was beyond angry.
“You’re actually sending me to my bedroom?”
“Now, Jackson!”
“Okay, fine! But I’m only doing it so you will get rid of him!” He grabbed his backpack and actually stomped his feet all the way to his room.
“For someone who doesn’t want to be treated like a child, you sure are acting like one!” she called after him. Jackson replied by slamming his door so hard the windows rattled.
“I should definitely be going.” Carter smiled as he placed a kiss on her forehead. “That youngster of yours is not my biggest fan.”
“I’m pretty sure that he wouldn’t like any man who’s not his father in my life.”
“Am I?”
“Are you what?”
“In your life?” Carter had stepped in close. She could smell the musky scented soap he'd used that morning.
“Do you want to be?” she asked, a little intrigued by the turn in the conversation.
He leaned in and pressed a long, lingering kiss to her lips. “What do you think?” he asked as he pulled away.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close again. “I think you might,” she whispered against his mouth.
His only answer was another one of those long, lingering, teasing kisses. When he let her go, Diana felt the loss of his touch intensely.
“You go ahead and talk to your son. I’m going to head out. I have to work the next few days, but if I hear anything from Lookie Louie, I will let you know. I have Saturday off. I’ll call you.”
Saturday seemed so far away. Even after years of experience as a cop’s wife dealing with rotations and swing shifts, she'd never really liked it. Now she was about to jump back into that life all over again. If things worked out with Carter…
Whoa there, Diana. Let’s not put the cart before the horse! This might be one of those cougar flings.
Cougar flings. Oh boy. She was a hot mess all right. Too much late night television in her life.
“Okay. I have some things to get done this week. Give me a call when you can.” She walked him to the door, and, standing on tiptoe, placed a quick peck on his cheek.
“First chance I get.” He grinned, scooping her up and crushing his lips to hers in a quick, hot kiss. “Talk to you later this week.”
Diana watched as he took the porch steps two at a time, jogged to his truck, and pulled out of the driveway.
“Time to find out what’s up with my child,” Diana said to herself as she closed the door and climbed the stairs to the second floor. Loud music pulsed behind Jackson’s closed bedroom door. She turned the knob, but it was locked.
“You are playing with fire today, young man,” she muttered as she dug out the bobby pin from a drawer in the hall table she had used to pop the lock when he was a child. Jimmying the bobby pin until the lock clicked, she pushed open her son’s door, marched to the stereo, and pulled the plug out of the wall.
“What are you doing?” Jackson demanded from where he was sprawled on his bed, reading a magazine.
“What are you doing? I sent you to your room as punishment—not so you can make me and the neighborhood deaf with that ridiculousness you call music!”
He rolled away from her and dropped the magazine to the floor. “Whatever.”
“Don’t you ‘whatever’ me, young man. Your behavior today is off the wall and unacceptable.”
Jackson jumped off the bed and faced her, his stance defiant. “My behavior? How about yours? What exactly were you and Mr. Cop Man up to, anyway?”
“First of all, his name is Carter. Or Officer Ryan, if you prefer. He was a friend of your father’s, and he deserves respect, if for no other reason than that. Second, I am an adult and am capable of making my own decisions about who I spend my time with, and I don’t have to clear it with you.”
“Some friend. Dad would be pissed!”
“Watch your mouth, young man!”
“Okay. He’d be angry that his friend is moving in on his wife when he has only been dead a year!”
“Only a year, Jackson? A year is a really long time to be alone.”
“You have me.”
“I do. But you are old enough to understand that is different. Besides, who said anything about Carter moving in on me?”
“Oh please, Mom. I may be young, but I’m not stupid. He looks at you the way you look at those fancy cupcakes at the bakery.”
She tried not to lau
gh at Jackson’s colorful description—she did lust after those cupcakes. It secretly pleased her that Carter’s desire for her was so obvious, but Jackson didn’t need to know that either.
“Look. I know your dad’s death has been hard on you. You’re a teenage boy, going through a lot of things without your father to see you through it, but you don’t have any right at all to determine who I spend my time with. I may be lonely, and I may be a widow, but I am still your mother, and your mother would like to address the fact that you skipped out on your last two classes.”
“Don’t worry about it, mom. No one will notice.”
“I notice. Cutting class is unacceptable.”
Jackson dropped back down to his bed, perching on the edge like a bird about to take flight at the slightest hint of danger. “I had to get out of there. I felt so—confined.”
She walked over and sat down next to her son. “What’s really going on, Jackson?”
He kicked at a dirty t-shirt on the floor. “I don’t know.”
“I think you know something. Cutting class, talking back, blowing up like this—none of it is you.”
He shrugged. “I know. It’s like I’m not myself lately. I’ve been really missing Dad lately, and seeing you with some other guy is really weird.”
She wrapped an arm around his shoulders and hugged him. “I know, honey. I’ve been missing him too. And that’s perfectly okay. But he is gone, and we have to learn to live—and enjoy life—without him, no matter how much we don’t want to. Dad wouldn’t want us to be sad or angry all the time, you know?”
He nodded, but didn’t speak. They sat together on the bed for a long while before Jackson finally said something. “It really is weird for me to see you with another guy who isn’t Dad. And to think about you—eewww—I can’t even say it.”
This time she didn’t bother holding back her laughter. “I don’t think you’re supposed to think about that anyway. Besides, right now we’re only friends.”
“Yeah, friends with benefits maybe.”
“Jackson Donald Massey!”
“That’s twice today you’ve pulled out my full name, Mom. You must really be into this guy.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Come on, Mom. I was born on a day, but it wasn’t yesterday.”
Donnie used to say that all the time. “You are so much like your father.”
In the Shadow of the Shield (Secret Lives Series Book 2) Page 9