by JD Nixon
“Thanks, Sarge. I want to change right now. I don’t like these hospital gowns – they’re such an ugly colour and their cut is so unflattering.”
The men rolled their eyes as I threw my legs over the edge of the bed.
“How are you going to change when you’re hooked up to the IV, Tessie?” asked Jake laughing.
I thought about it, then flopped back on the bed again. “Bugger!”
Jake leaned over to kiss me and we smiled at each other. He was a beautiful man in every way – tall, well-muscled, wavy golden hair, honey-brown skin, a gorgeous smile and startling amber eyes. He was good-natured, friendly and popular, not to mention breathtakingly sensational in bed. He was almost the perfect man. But for me, his one major flaw was that he was a Bycraft, and I loathed the Bycraft family. With very good reason.
Normally a man like Jake would be a real catch for any woman, but I would never marry him, no matter how much I loved him. It wasn’t just because he was already married, never finding the time or energy to divorce his demanding wife, Chantelle (sister of Red’s girlfriend, poor battered Sharnee), from whom he’d been permanently separated for over six years ago after a brief, stormy marriage. It would be unthinkable for me to marry him because his family had caused mine so much grief through the years. I could never join his family of demons and become a Bycraft.
In a sensible world, Jake and I would never have even considered having a relationship, but love was rarely sensible, and we’d fallen hard for each other when I returned to town a couple of years ago. And apart from my ongoing troubles with his large family, our relationship was happy and loving.
I decided to visit the bathroom to freshen up even though I couldn’t change. I shuffled over to it, one hand pushing the IV trolley, the other clasping the back of my gown, making sure it wasn’t going to flap open embarrassingly. Jake carried my bag into the bathroom for me and closed the door behind him when he left. I slipped on some panties to regain a modicum of modesty, moving my injured arm carefully. Then I brushed my teeth and combed my long, straight dark-blonde hair. Examining myself in the mirror, I couldn’t believe how pale I was and wondered exactly how much blood I’d lost. It had been a long ninety minute drive to the hospital and that was after I’d already been bleeding for a while.
When I returned, the two men were chatting in a desultory manner. Jake lay on my bed, arms behind his head, his long legs stretched out, while the Sarge sat on the sole visitor’s chair. They weren’t crazy about each other, but they were both civilised men and tolerated each other for my sake. Jake had finally, if reluctantly, accepted the fact that I would be spending a lot of time with the Sarge and it was inevitable that we would develop a close bond. In fact, it was critical that we did. Our lives depended on us being able to second guess each other in every situation. But there was no doubt that Jake had been happier when I’d been partnered with the nearly-retired, married Des, who’d been a lazy and neglectful boss.
Being the sociable, open man that he was, Jake tried hard to be cordial to the Sarge, even inviting him to play football at the low-security prison outside of Little Town where he worked as a prison officer. One night a week the prison officer team played against the prisoner team, most of whom were low risk or nearing the end of their sentences after displaying exemplary behaviour. Jake lived at the prison with free bed and board in exchange for being on-call at all times, and was the team captain for the officers’ side. He was always on the lookout for good players, because it was a matter of pride to him to beat the prisoners.
The Sarge, who was of a similar height and muscularity to Jake, had accepted the invitation and joined the team. Jake justified his inclusion on the basis that, although not a prison officer, the Sarge was a police officer and that was close enough. But unfortunately, it hadn’t helped thaw their relationship much. One of my deepest wishes was for these two important men in my life to become friends. Or at least friendlier.
“Jakey, can you strap my knife on again, please?” I asked, standing in front of him. It had been packed on top of my clothes in the bag, the first thing I’d laid my hands on. Thank you, Dad! It was my spare knife, but as I currently had no idea where my favourite knife was, I was grateful for the substitute. He sat up and with his lovely eyes locked on mine the entire time, Jake pushed his hands under my hospital gown and slid them up my right thigh, slowly wrapping my leather sheath around it in a very sensuous way that had me gripping his shoulders and holding my breath.
The bed creaked as I sat on it next to him and leaned over to kiss him. Which only reminded me.
“Red stuck his tongue in my mouth,” I complained, pulling away and screwing up my face at the unhappy memory.
The Sarge’s tone was sharp. “You didn’t tell me you were that close to him.”
“We slipped over together on the wet pavers while we were fighting, Sarge. I was going to sit on him till you turned up, but he was being so disgusting that I escaped as soon as I found the chance.” I turned back to Jake. “He wanted to know why you should have all the fun with me. He reckons that you’re not good at sharing your playthings.”
“He was just being a tool as usual,” Jake dismissed, lying back on the bed again, reaching up to play with my hair.
“He shot me, Jake! And he slogged me one in the jaw. That’s not just being a tool,” I snapped, my dark grey eyes blazing into his amber ones as he twirled my hair in his fingers. “He waited in the dark on the off-chance of finding me alone, so he could attack me. That’s not just being a tool either.”
He sighed heavily. “I know, Tessie, but what am I supposed to do? I’ve told him to leave you alone. I’ve begged him. I’ve bribed him. We’ve even had fights about it. He won’t listen to me because he’s completely obsessed with you. He’s becoming even worse than Denny.” Jake was almost squirming with discomfort as he spoke because he hated talking about anything too serious, such as his family’s intense hatred of me.
Denny Bycraft, Jake’s younger brother, had stalked me relentlessly since we were kids, teasing me at primary school, tormenting me all through high school, and peeping on me as an adult. I was forever yelling at him to leave me alone. He was mostly harmless, but he did keep Jake up-to-date on what I was doing, especially when I was over at the Sarge’s house. Jake, normally so easy-going and untroubled by negative emotion, had become markedly more possessive since the Sarge had arrived in town. I’d grown bored of telling him to stop being ridiculous, because the Sarge was engaged to a very pretty woman who was currently overseas. As if he’d bother to look twice at me. As if I even wanted him to. We were friends and work partners, and that was all.
Jake was saved from any further unwelcome brushes with reality by my phone ringing. I recognised the catchy little tune that I’d chosen as my ringtone, but the problem was I couldn’t see it anywhere. I followed my ears to the bedside table and opened its top drawer to find my phone and my good knife and sheath stowed neatly inside. Grabbing the phone, I answered, not checking the identity of the caller first as I usually did.
“Tess Fuller.”
“Hello, Tessie. You took a while to answer. Were you doing something important? Like bleeding to death?”
I shot a meaningful glance at the Sarge. “Hello, Red,” I said, unnaturally loud.
Both men immediately shot upright, eyes glued to me. I made a writing gesture with my hand and the Sarge jumped up to pass me his notepad and pen, standing close and watching me intently. I wrote down the phone number showing on my screen.
“You tipping off your stupid cop boyfriend are you, lovely?” he laughed. “No point. I’m on a borrowed phone. You won’t trace me.”
“What do you want?”
“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He laughed again. I could feel my blood pressure rising.
I forced myself to sound chirpy. “I’m great. How are you?”
“I know I shot you.”
“It was just a flesh wound,” I dismissed casually. “I didn’t e
ven notice it.”
“Tessie, you are one sweet little piece of pussy, no doubt about it. You never give up. Fuck me, but I love that attitude in a woman. It’s so rare.” He paused. “Most of the women I play with give up way too soon. They’re no fun at all.”
God, I hated him. He usually beat those poor women so badly while assaulting them that they were forced to give up fighting or die in the attempt. The last attack he’d been sent to jail for was against a fifteen-year-old girl he’d met at a nightclub in Big Town. Her injuries had been horrific. He’d received a much lighter sentence than he’d deserved, because she had flatly refused to testify against him in court. And the judge, an elderly conservative man, had proven to be very judgemental of her behaviour and appearance that evening. Although her physical wounds had healed, she still hadn’t recovered from the psychological injuries Red had left her, despite it being nearly five years ago.
“Tessie?”
“What?”
“You’re not talking to me.”
“I have nothing to say to you. Why are you ringing me?”
“I told you, lovely. I wanted to make sure you’re still alive. But also, I wanted to let you know that I’m thinking of visiting you in hospital. Wouldn’t that be fun? Should I bring flowers?” His nasty laugh rang in my ears as I hung up on him.
The catchy song sounded immediately. It was the same number again. I turned to the Sarge, shaking my head, begging him with my eyes. “Please, Sarge, I can’t. Not right now.”
“It’s okay, Tessie. You don’t have to answer it. Turn your phone off,” he said grimly.
“He said he’s thinking of visiting me.”
Without another word, he pulled out his own phone and furiously punched in numbers. He listened for a moment. “Ma’am, it’s Finn Maguire . . . Yes, she’s awake now . . . Everything went well, but . . . Yes, ma’am . . . No, ma’am . . . Ma’am, can I interrupt?” He listened impatiently to a tirade for a minute, closing his eyes and throwing his head back in despair. “Please listen, ma’am . . . No! I’m not accusing you of not being a good listener . . . No, ma’am! Of course I’m not . . . No, ma’am, don’t do that . . . Ma’am? Ma’am?” He turned to us. “Shit! She’s on her way.”
Jake bolted upright again and threw his legs over the side of the bed. “I’m out of here.”
“Jakey!” I protested, pulling on his arm.
He turned to me, desperation in his eyes. “Tessie, please don’t make me be here when she turns up. Please, baby doll.” He checked his watch. “And anyway my shift starts in a couple of hours. I have to get back to the prison.”
I relented. “Okay, but when will I see you again?”
He reached into his pocket to take out his phone, checking his diary. “I’m on duty all this week, including this weekend, so I can take next weekend off for my birthday. Sorry, babe.”
“Jakey,” I grumbled. “I never see you anymore.”
“I never see you anymore. Not alone anyway,” he retorted, throwing a bitter glance at the Sarge as if it was his, instead of Jake’s own awful family’s fault there was endless crime in Little Town. But I felt guilty, knowing that I’d had to bail on a few dates with him recently because there had been urgent police work to attend to. He’d been gracious about it, but there was an undercurrent of resentment building in him. We really needed the next weekend in Big Town to spend some quality time together.
“Bye, Jakey,” I said sadly. And although he gave me a spectacular farewell kiss and pressed his forehead against mine to tell me he loved me with a sincerity that made my heart blossom, it didn’t make up for him leaving. I slumped back on the bed and sighed out loud, before turning to the Sarge. “I suppose you want to disappear too before the Super gets here?”
He leaned back in the chair, stretched out his legs, and laced his hands behind his head. “I’m relaxed.”
I laughed at his nonchalance. “Mr Cool, huh?”
“That’s me.”
A short, stout nurse with salt-and-pepper hair cut into a severe bob, bustled into the room, a wide jovial smile on her face. “Good to see you awake, love.” She noticed the Sarge. “Ooh, you have your own personal police escort. You must be important.”
I smiled at her, shaking my head self-deprecatingly.
“She’s very important,” contradicted the Sarge. “She keeps the entire Tim Tam industry in this country afloat single-handedly.”
“Sarge,” I groaned and threw one of my pillows at him with my good arm.
The nurse laughed. “I do my fair share of supporting that industry myself.” She looked at my chart and scribbled something. “Let’s check your vitals.”
We went through the whole rigmarole of poking and prodding, and she scribbled something else on the chart, finishing with a flourish. “You’ll live,” she pronounced.
“I’m starving,” I said to her. I hadn’t had any breakfast and it was now mid-afternoon. “Any chance of rustling up some food?”
“Doubt it,” said the nurse cheerfully. “The kitchen manager used to run a boarding school kitchen and there’s absolutely no food provided outside the set meal times. No exceptions. And I’m sure as hell not risking my life by asking. She’s a bloody dragon.” She busied herself in tidying the bed for a moment. “Now remember not to move your arm. I’ll dig you up a sling for it.” And she departed.
The Sarge stood up, yawned, stretched and brought my pillow back to me, carefully tucking it behind my back. “I’ll fetch you something from the hospital cafe. What do you want?”
“I’ve had a terrible day,” I moped. “So what I really need is a meat pie with lots of tomato sauce and hot chips with lots of salt, followed by a chocolate bar. Oh, and don’t forget the Coke Zero. I don’t want to overdo it.”
“Gotcha. One tuna salad sandwich on wholemeal followed by an apple, coming up. Oh, and I won’t forget the orange juice.” He sauntered out the door.
“Sarge!” I shouted after him. “Don’t be so bloody cruel!”
Two seconds later, a blonde head poked itself around the door. “Well, fuck me with a prickly pear! I can see you’re still alive, judging by the racket you’re making, Tessie Fuller. I could hear you screaming down the fucking hallway. Anyone would think Jake Bycraft had you, panties down, up against the wall, banging your brains out.”
“Sorry, ma’am,” I blushed.
The Sarge had escaped just in time. It was the Super.
Chapter 4
Superintendent Fiona Midden, the most feared woman in Big Town, was medium height, rail-thin and fifty-something, with a shock of straw-like bleached hair, brown leathery skin, a pixie face, bright blue eyes and a sexy, husky voice from her chain-smoking habit. She was hard, foul-mouthed, and didn’t take any prisoners.
She was back in uniform again after recently being promoted from inspector in charge of the Big Town detectives to superintendent in charge of the entire station and the local district, including our small police station in Little Town. She was throwing a party tomorrow night at her house to celebrate her promotion and the Sarge and I were both invited. We hadn’t yet decided which one of us could go, but we both knew it would be me. She was boss to both of us, but she was also my long-time friend and mentor.
She picked up my left arm, twisted it around, frowning at the bandage before gently placing it back on the bed.
“Red fucking Bycraft,” she said with simple hatred, shaking her head. “Next time you have a date with him, you put the first bullet through his dick and the second one through his brain. Do you hear me, Tessie? That’s an order.”
“Yes, ma’am. It will be my pleasure. But hopefully I’ll be the one with the gun next time.”
“I’m told his gun had a pink handle?” I nodded my reluctant affirmation of that dire fact. Her voice was sorrowful. “Tess, I’m so fucking embarrassed for you. I really am.”
“Thanks, ma’am,” I replied dryly. “I’m feeling the love.”
She cupped my chin in her hand and exam
ined my face. “Christ! You’re as pale as an anaemic vampire in a fucking Twilight movie. How much blood did you lose exactly?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen a doctor yet.”
She turned suddenly and bellowed. The good citizens of Big Town could probably hear her out on the street, let alone down the hallway. “Bum? Where the fuck are you? Get your arse in here, now!”
A heavy tread approached the room at double-time before a gigantic shape filled the doorway. I groaned when he stepped into the room.
“Ma’am, why did you have to bring him along? He’s making me feel worse already.”
She patted my hand consolingly.
“Sorry, ma’am,” Bum said. “There was this real pretty nurse at the desk and I just –”
“Bum, you peabrain!” she shouted. “If you could stop thinking about your over-wanked microscopic dick for one second, you might actually help your colleagues solve some fucking crime in this district. Wouldn’t that be a novel experience for you? Now get your fat head in here and get your notebook out of your arse and make yourself useful for once.”
“Hi, Tessie,” he said calmly, taking out his notebook and pen, unfazed by the Super’s rants. He’d heard it all a million times before.
“Hi, Bum,” I acknowledged unenthusiastically.
Detective Constable Burn Grunion, or Bum Bunion as we all called him, was the less-than-incredible hulk. A fanatical bodybuilder, his muscles almost burst through the business shirts he wore as a plain clothes detective. He was as massive a presence as Uluru, and almost as smart as a big, red rock. Almost.
For some reason the Super had given him the job of being her driver since she’d been promoted. She claimed it was because driving was the only thing he was any good at, which was probably true, and even then according to her he drove more erratically than a blind taxi driver on meth. However, I’d always suspected that she had a soft spot for him that she went to great lengths to hide. That was assuming of course that she was capable of any feeling that was quite so human. I had many lingering doubts.