“He’d going to be charged with indignity to a body, and sexual assault. His parents bailed him out around noon. But he’s terrified. And what’s more, it wasn’t him handing out the Oxy.”
“Any idea who?”
Troy shook his head. “Nah. No one’s saying anything. I think, whoever it is, they’re mean enough to scare everyone silent.”
For one second of insanity, she considered feeding him the name Brian Crawford, but she bit it down. She was sure Knuckles was scarier than the sheriff’s deputies, and that asshole was not only dealing bad shit, he was also too interested in her teenage daughter.
“Is she doing okay?” Troy brought her back, nodding to the house.
“Grace?” Danielle exhaled. “Hard to say. She’s hung over at the moment. But she was kinda scared to see you here. She thinks that kid is going to press charges.”
Troy laughed, a good sound. It made her realize he was actually male. She was so out of practice with this boy-girl stuff. “That little prick? She’s got nothing to worry about. He’s not going to be shouting about getting beat up by a girl. Little prick’s the best kind of coward in that respect.”
“Did you say he’s been charged with sexual assault?”
Troy’s smile vanished. “Yeah. We went through his phone. He was touching her, too. Kings County’s DA is pressing for assault.”
“Good.” Then she frowned. “Kings County? Not Kern?”
Troy’s turn to exhale. “Kern’s going through an internal investigation.”
“Oh yeah, I’d heard about that.”
“Plus, they’re investigating Unger for us. Sheriff Turnbull is really pissed about this, too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. He doesn’t like this kinda shit any more than I do. Surprisingly, he’s showing some competence on this one.”
“Good.” She looked back at the house, over her shoulder. “I better go in and grab some food before the special fried rice is gone.”
“Sure. Just thought I’d tell you in person about the girl.”
“I really appreciate that. Thanks, Deputy.”
“And…” he started the thought, then died off.
Danielle frowned. “What is it?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, and Danielle could have sworn he was blushing. “I was just thinking that…if you wanted, I’d like to…” He laughed, now rubbing his chin, looking everything except at her.
“What is it?”
“If you’d like to get a drink sometime. Or a coffee. Or dinner, or something.”
It took an entire second for her to realize he was asking her out. A testament to the fact that she’d never actually dated. Ever. “Me?” She sounded like a complete idiot.
“Ah…yeah. If you’d be willing to…go out sometime.”
“Oh. Umm…”
“You know, don’t worry about it. I mean, we do sorta work together. It’s inappropriate.”
“It’s likely a bad idea because we do work together,” she said slowly. “And it’s not that I’m offended or intimidated. But I am sort of…seeing someone.” She had no idea how else to put it. If that’s even what she had with Knuckles.
Troy looked surprised. “Really?”
Now she had to laugh. “I’m surprised, too.”
“No, that’s not it,” he assured her, laughing along with her, to her relief. “More of a surprise that you weren’t attached, actually.”
“Well, thank you.”
“But, if situations change…” Troy cleared his throat. “I’ve likely said enough. I’ll shut up.”
“Don’t sweat it,” she was insisting, trying to lighten the mood. Even with the sound of a bike in the not-too-far-distance she put a hand on his arm. “And I am flattered. But with us working so closely…” There was a long, awkward pause. He was a nice guy. This could be a really stable, caring relationship. What the hell was she so scared of?
Finally, he broke the silence. “No, I get it. You’re right. Had to take a chance, though.” With a squeeze of her arm, he gave a kind smile. “You take care, Dani.”
“What the fuck?” At the angry outburst, they both turned to see Knuckles getting off his bike where it sat in his driveway.
Danielle stepped back and the deputy’s hand fell away. More concerning, Knuckles was tearing off his helmet and he looked pissed. Even his stride somehow seemed furious.
“You know Deputy Troy,” she said, trying to be pleasant, hoping that casual formality might dissolve the situation.
“Yeah,” he snarled, surprising her with the glare he shot her way. “How well do you know him?”
Understandably, she was taken aback. “I…I work with him.”
“Right.” Now the glare went to the Deputy. “Anything else you need?” He actually moved between her and Troy, forcing her to take another step back. “Anything else you need, Deputy Troy?”
It was obvious that Troy’s head was doing calculations and the answers were confusing to him. His eyes swept from Knuckles’ gaze to her, back again. They were about the same height, and the way they both straightened their backs made them both seem nearly seven feet tall. “Nothing needed,” Troy returned, one corner of his mouth curled up. Danielle had seen Knuckles pissed off. She was impressed at how composed the deputy was as his smile, the professional one, was sent her way. “See you at work,” he told her, the same tone used for strangers or phone calls, then he moved to the other side of his cruiser to climb behind the wheel.
Before the car was one yard length away she shoved at Knuckles’ back with both hands, snapping, “What the hell was that?”
He spun on her, that fury still in full force, and she momentarily rethought striking him. “Are you serious? We spend the night together and the very next day you’re feeling up a cop?”
That made her pause. He couldn’t honestly be jealous, could he? “I didn’t feel anyone up,” she shot back, her tone notable gentler. “I was talking to him. It’s called being nice.”
“Why you being so nice to fucking Deputy Troy?”
“I…” she shook her head, shoving both hands through her hair. Flabbergasted didn’t quite explain what she was feeling at the moment. “I’m going inside.” She turned for her front door.
“You gotta at least answer me that.”
“I don’t have to do anything!” she snapped as he stepped back between her and her house. He reached for her arm and she pulled away before he could close his grip. “What the hell is the idea, rolling up here and talking to me like this?”
“Because some jackass was all over you right in front of your house!”
“All over me?” She had to laugh, and his jaw set harder. “A hand on my arm is hardly fucking on the grass, Knuckles.”
“Then what the hell was he doing here to begin with?” This anger, honestly, it sucked the air out her. He was scary like this, and yet she didn’t think he’d actually hurt her. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t hurt someone. Yet his rage was freakish irrational, the fire in his eyes cold, making that gorgeous gold color flash grey instead.
“You need to calm down. Nothing is going on with me and the Deputy.”
“Then what was he doing here?” Each word was punctuated separately.
“Checking on Grace. Filling me in one the dead girl I autopsied last night. That’s it, okay? Stop making me defend myself. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Knuckles got close, head hooked down so his face was mere inches away from hers. His voice was enough to chill her. “Why was a cop here, Danielle?”
Not Momma. Danielle. She swallowed, hard, and it hurt. Then in dawned on her. He wasn’t jealous. He didn’t trust her talking to cops.
Her job was with the law. Her office was in the sheriff’s department. This job was what she put everything else aside for. Everything she and her girls had sacrificed in the hopes of being self-sufficient, making a life somewhere. Not being scared that her past could catch up with them and render them helpless again.
> She wasn’t giving that up for anything.
“I work with cops, Knuckles,” she reminded him. “That’s my job. You knew that going in. And if you can’t trust me anyway…” With a sigh, she shook her head and stepped back again. “Then this can’t go any further.”
His anger didn’t seem to dissipate, but his voice dropped that hard edge. “Danielle, wait—”
“No,” she said, holding up a hand. “You have to think that over. I’m not giving up this job. I worked too fucking hard and let my girls down for too long to just walk away from a position in a good community. And I really do like it here in Markham. I want to provide for my girls here. It’s important that they see me do it, too.”
Without another word, she moved around him, headed up the concrete steps to the front door, and proceeded to eat Chinese food, drink a beer, and re-evaluate her life.
He didn’t say another word.
Chapter Twenty-One
Screaming. The agony of a woman, holding a dead kid in her arms. And him, only able to hide behind rubble, despite the fully-loaded automatic weapon in his hands.
His heart was jackrabbiting, but freezing here was just increasing his chances of getting dead, along with a lot of other people. But he couldn’t get his arms and legs to move, that was the main problem. It took all his energy to keep breathing.
Time to settle the fuck down. Yeah, he was on his own now. That was true. Facts wouldn’t change that if he succeeded in pissing his pants right here and now.
Get. Off. Your. Ass.
After, he’d swear there was a sharp ding, like an elevator arriving at the correct floor. It jolted him back upright in his boots, and Claire moved with him, falling into place as natural as a cow lick. The world ran red, and not from the blood trickling into one eye. It was more like radar.
A primal part of his brain had retained the projection of that heavy artillery fire. There was no acquiring the target, he just knew where the asshole was that had blown Anthony’s head wide open.
His initial shots broke through the brick and mortar from the façade of the building. He paused, just long enough for the sniper to come back and reply. The spray of crimson he saw fly out the back of the fucker’s head was a glorious thing, but he couldn’t bask in it. More rounds were kicking up dust at his feet.
On autopilot, he pivoted, Claire still nice and close, butt at his shoulder, and the second gunman in the doorway next to the sniper’s post was falling before he got close enough for Greg to even feel the wind of a bullet.
Still, more gunfire from the same building. He didn’t care. He sprayed every window with rounds until nothing was coming back at him.
“O’Shay!”
He spun, Claire still at attention, only dropping her to his hip when he recognized U.S. Army desert camo striding his way in a manner that said he was an officer. “This way. Are you hit?” The man held a hand out, grabbing his shoulder.
Stupefied, Greg shook his head. Speaking wasn’t possible, not for a little while yet. But he could sure as hell follow the orders of a man sporting three chevrons on his arm.
Kicking aside skull-sized rocks, he followed the sergeant, not even registering the woman the woman on the ground, now flung back onto her back, the bloodied child still across her lifeless lap.
-oOo-
Knuckles blinked himself awake, those female shrieks ringing in his head. Apparently, he’d passed out on the sofa, either from stress or lack of sleep or some shit. He didn’t shout himself awake this time, but the coat of sweat made him wonder if he’d been dreaming.
Eyes sliding closed, he contemplated getting up and going up to bed. When he realized the shrieks still hadn’t stopped, and that they were really fucking close, he sat up, ears straining.
Yep, real and close by.
Knuckles shot to his feet and hit the front door before taking a moment for a second thought.
There was a black Impala parked in the driveway of the Prince’s house, still running. Two figures were struggling next to it, and on the next scream he went into Red Mode.
That day in Iraq was the first episode of Red Mode, and with that memory so fresh he stepped into it like old, comfortable shoes.
“Hey!” he shouted, coming around the picket fence, approaching the rear of the car.
“Go home, Brian!” he heard a voice shout, recognizing Grace.
And he sure as shit knew who Brian was.
“Hey,” he repeated, pulling the bigger form back by the shoulders with enough force the kid sprawled out onto the lawn. “What’d I tell you about coming around here?”
“Knuckles?” The dumb fucker sounded surprised to see him. He had to know Knuckles was living next door.
“Knuckles, don’t wake up Mom.”
For a second he studied Grace in the light of the street lamp across the road, noticing her freshly split lip. “Where’d that come from?” he asked, gesturing to her mouth.
Caught, she dropped her gaze and covered the blood with one hand.
Now he turned back to Brian Crawford, feeling sorry that Wallace’s nephew was going to die tonight. He liked Wallace.
“Listen, she lipped me off, man. I just wanted to talk. After all the shit I’ve put up with for her, the least she can do is put out—”
At least, Knuckles assumed that was going to be the last couple words out of the idiot’s mouth. Hard to be sure because before he could finish Knuckles ploughed a fist into his face.
Brian dropped to the grass again, not making a sound. No, that was Grace’s job. She started to shout, “Stop it!”
Nah, it still wasn’t enough. He fell on the kid in a flurry of fists, easily swinging through his sad attempts to block each blow. Talk about your clichéd abuser; couldn’t hold up his end of a fight with someone that actually hit back.
Grace was still shouting, apparently not worried about waking up Danielle anymore.
Red Mode, as it had developed, was a vicious thing. It only came out when he was angry, and he’d never been able to just call it up. He either got furious enough in the moment, or the moment had to wait. But Red Mode always came out of a need to protect those he cared about.
Which, obviously, now included the Prince girls. Proving he was more of an idiot than he’d ever dreamed.
Brian was unable to land a single punch. Probably because Knuckles’ initial jab broke his nose and caused his eyes to water. Every landed hit made a satisfying crunch, until he heard the one voice that could bring Red Mode to heel without even shouting.
“Knuckles! Jesus Christ, stop it.”
He climbed to his feet, Red Mode gone, breathing heavy. An examination of his right hand told him how brutal the assault had been. His fist was hamburger meat.
“What the hell have you done?”
Blinking, he brought is eyes over to hers. Christ, that look was enough to unman him. Coming down from Red Mode was rough enough, but Danielle’s expression added a whole new layer of hurt.
“He hit Grace,” was all he could mumble as he dug his burner out of his back pocket. “Her lip is bleeding.”
Something shifted in her eyes, her entire expression. With a new set to her jaw, she turned to her daughter and Knuckles could focus enough to call Jayce.
“S’up?” came the answer after the second ring.
“Wallace’s nephew.”
“Brian?”
“He’s stepping in on my neighbor’s daughter. She’s sixteen.” Fuck, he wasn’t making any sense.
“Okay.” Jayce’s tone confirmed that Knuckles could have very well cracked up.
“He’s trying to get her to sell Sunshine.”
“Yeah, I know. We had this talk.”
“I warned him off the daughter. He showed up here tonight. I…I kinda lost it.”
“He still breathing?”
Knuckles eyed up the asshole as he tried to push himself upright. “He hit her, so he’s lucky but yeah. He’s breathing.”
“I’ll send someone in the truck.
”
“Thanks. His car is here. Someone will have to drive it.”
“Knuck?”
“Yeah?”
“What do you want done with him?”
Knuckles rubbed his forehead. “No idea. Just…take him to his uncle. Let Wallace decide it.”
“Good call. Stay put, man.”
Brian had apparently decided to wise up. He sat, totally silent, on his ass, wiping at his nose and sniffling.
Danielle was taking Grace into the house, and she caught him watching. As she waved that Grace was fine, he noted she had on pajama pants and a T-shirt. Shit, he’d woken her up after all.
More sniffles at his feet. With an unimpressed “Shut up,” Knuckles parked his ass on the Prince’s front stoop, flexing his damaged hand. It was really starting to sting, but there was no regret. Actually, that had all felt good.
He’d defended someone important.
As he enjoyed the cool air of the evening, he also became aware of his pulse regulating itself. Each swallow was a relief. Every heartbeat another notch down from Red.
Knuckles felt a hell of a lot for these women, point made when he came home that evening to see the deputy smiling at Danielle like she was exactly the beautiful woman Knuckles saw her as. Yeah, he cared an awful lot. Enough to get jealous in a way he had been honestly surprised by.
He didn’t know when this had all come about. There was no moment of realization, he just got furious at the thought of anyone hurting them. The evidence that this little shit on the frosted grass had hit Grace—who didn’t even like him—sent him right off the deep end.
Anyone hurting Danielle would have to die. No half- measures in that respect. Hard call on the Crawford kid, but it was very possible that without Danielle there to call him off that kid would be dead.
“Are you okay?” The soft voice was punctuated by the screen door closing quietly.
He sat up straighter as Danielle parked herself next to him. Even the smell of her calmed him down.
“Just my hand,” he grumbled. “Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”
“I don’t mean your hand.”
He swallowed, knowing she was, at best, probably terrified of him by now. “I’m fine. I’m just…” He had to clear his throat. “I’m no threat to you or your girls. I’d never hurt you.”
Shelter (Red Rebels MC Book 5) Page 21