by Falon Gold
“Or what,” Tommy’s voice stretches out from the middle of the setting, surrounded by the other Owens with a child in each lap, the oldest kids at tables bordering theirs. “That boy can’t shut up when he drinks and won’t talk when he’s sober, a perfect example of Lydia’s and Frank’s backasswards raising.”
“I’m sober, Unk!” I retort.
Pops slaps his forehead. “Shut up, Tommy, and let the man speak. Apollo, that is.”
Uncle Tommy chucks, “You just want to eat, Frank.”
“So do I, Tommy,” Uncle Luke growls, “now shut the hell up… please.”
“Natalia, his grumpiness is your fault,” Uncle Tommy howls, must have the last word, although everyone he’s talking to is sitting at the same table with him. “Feed and sex this man more often… please. It benefits us all.”
His uncensored way of speaking causes Natalia to pitch wine down her chin then shrill with laughter. Astrid spits in her water that she’s drinking, and puts it down quickly, then covers her mouth with her fist to keep the rest in.
I raise my hand. “Okay, enough of the Owens’ antics. I got you, Apollo.”
He bows to me. “Thank you, Sheriff. Now, the luckiest people on this earth are me, Blake, and now Astrid. The Owens go to bat for their own, whether blood related or not, and you better be up to par, or they’ll boot your ass out.”
“He cursed!” I holler out and jolt up in my seat. “And I couldn’t? Oh, I know why!”
“Don’t do it, Blake!” Malisa screams. “It’s his wedding!”
“Oh, I’m doing it, sister!” I nod, vigorously, then laugh. “Just kidding. Go, Apollo. You got thirty seconds before the next interruption.”
Somebody shouts twenty-nine. Uproars of hilarity follow.
Apollo heads spin around wildly. “Uh… Oh! The best day of my life was when Malisa started working for me and the best days haven’t stopped coming since.”
“That’s because he’s a reverse gold-digger,” Malisa interrupts. “I run his damn company, keep his bank account flush, and then he tries to give me all the money. I’m a tax shelter. That’s why he married me.”
Apollo cracks up laughing along with everyone else then gapes down at her. “You too, huh?”
“Sorry, babe,” she says with an unapologetic intonation in her voice that she isn’t trying to conceal.
“You are so not sorry, my Lisa,” he whispers into the microphone.
She smiles widely with her mouth slanted upwards. He bends to kiss it.
“Worse best man speech ever, Apollo” I goad. “You should’ve let me do it.”
Apollo can’t take his eyes from Malisa. “I rather kiss my wife anyway, Blake. Go for it.”
I’d rather be kissing mine too, but showing and proving to Astrid that marrying me will never be an error will have to do for now.
“You weren’t going to keep the floor long with this family around anyway,” Uncle Luke barks out, then shovels food in his mouth.
Apollo extends the microphone to me with the sappiest of looks I’ve ever seen on his face for Malisa. I squeeze Astrid’s hand before starting down the row towards him. Maria is kneeling behind the Malisa’s chair, working at the tie in the net for the balloons while telling them off colorfully under her breath.
The woman is completely stressed and becoming unhinged.
When I take the microphone from Apollo’s hand, he takes his place beside Malisa at the center of the table and resumes mashing faces with her.
“Congratulations to Mr. and Mrs. Apollo Nordic-Ford,” I start. They look up finally, with their temples united and arms wrapped around each other. “Apollo, you already know you’re a good man who deserves a wonderful woman like my sister. What you don’t know is that no one here can be more proud of you than your father, who isn’t able to be with us, but I’m sure he’s here in spirit. Even heaven wouldn’t have kept him from being a part of this day with you. You are also legally apart of the Owens now, and it is truly an honor to welcome you into the clan myself… on paper. You were one of us when Malisa said she loved you with all of her heart.”
Apollo nods with water-logged eyes.
I turn to the guests. “You did good, Sienna, even with the little time you had with your son before he was stolen away. The moment he was willing to face Mama O’s black stare, we knew he was from good people too. If he wasn’t, the Owens’ influence would have surely made him the man he is today. This, I know for a fact.”
Several sniffles let loose. Enough of that.
“However—” I begin again.
“Oh hell,” Uncle Luke finishes.
“…the bro-code does not extend to patting a grown man on the back with tears in his eyes at his wedding. If it does, I’m making that rule obsolete right now. Do not ever ask me to be your best man, fellows, and I won’t ask you to be mine.” I spin toward Astrid sitting side saddle in her seat. “Because Apollo has already been drafted for the job of being my best man.”
Astrid covers her mouth with both hands, her expanded irises visible even from where I stand. If there is truly a God in heaven, she will not be upset about the future proposal I’m promising her in front of an audience.
I grin at the groom. “Fair is fair, Apollo. I want my back patted every ten seconds at my wedding... gently, of course. Now, let’s eat dammit! Thank you.”
Lavender and white balloons rise. Maria plops down on her ass, kicks her shoes off, and rips a band from around the ball of her hair. She exhales.
Poor woman. I bet she’s rethinking her profession after Apollo and Malisa.
Apollo raises up and pulls me into a bro-hug embrace then releases me, the ridges in my eyes a little moist.
I drop the mic on the table and walk off, with whistles, applause, and merriment tailing me back to my place beside Astrid, where I belong. Her wild-eyed expression hasn’t changed.
I maneuver my chair sideways to face her before sitting down, then brush her elbow with my fingers.
“I’m sorry if I did I something wrong up there. I couldn’t help myself. I promised myself I’d take it slow with you, and I messed up. Forgive me?”
She shakes her head and slopes toward me. I catch her with my arms, but she’s really holding me. Massive amounts of relief dump in my system. Astrid jumps to her feet without letting me go, tacking her body over mine.
“Be careful, baby… of the baby,” I caution.
More handclapping rivals the music now thumping through hidden speakers around the property. “We’re being watched, sweetheart,” I advise, while snuggling my cheek against her smooth, pale one.
She mumbles something against my neck. Eventually, I figure out she’s saying, “Who gives two fucks?”
“Certainly not me.”
I crook my finger beneath her chin to lift it, then recline my head back. Her lips collide into mine as if she’s missing something and my mouth stole it. Violent clashes of our tongue result.
“Okay, lovebirds! Get a room,” Malisa yelps, scandalized and delighted. “There’s children present… and they’re intrigued as hell as to what you two are doing over there!”
Pecking me on the mouth, Astrid reclaims her seat, her brow glued to mine. She’s giggling, and damn if I’m not doing it along with her. Life is good. Finally.
The day slips by unnoticed as Astrid I concoct plans for merging our lives completely. She’s coming back to Arrow, getting her old job back, but not her apartment. She will be moving into my mine tonight. It’s bigger, two bedrooms, two baths, with open-plan living room and kitchen with a picture window that greets the sunrise every morning.
Amid stealing kisses and slow dances only possible after half the tables are stored away, it seems someone walks up and announces themselves to her every five seconds. A few are audacious enough to wax on, wax off baby Blake without permission. He kicks up a storm when they do it. We’re not sure if he’s pissy about it or happy because people are acknowledging him. My jeans begin to pulsate with an incoming
call. I excavate the phone and greet Meagan, “Sheriff Powers.”
“Blake,” she says nervously. A bad sign. Meagan doesn’t call me by my first name or do nervous at thirty-two-years-old and a former Marine with respect for her superiors drummed into her. “I have Mr. Lindsey on the other line.”
My hand begins kneading a groove into Astrid’s spine. She sags into me, lining her chest with mine, thinking she’s getting an unplanned massage when in actuality work is about to wrench me away from her, and I’m taking relaxation from her as fast as I’m giving it to her. “Meagan, not tonight please.” I’m not above pleading.
Astrid’s chin dips, hiding the scorching mask she wears when I’m going to get laid, possible all night. She cups her ear to the phone. “What’s going on, Meagan?”
Meagan gasps. “Is that Astrid?”
“Yes,” I say grittily, “and you’re intruding, woman. What is it? Why didn’t you call Copper?”
“Good to have you back, Astrid,” rushes out of Meagan. “There’s a bad wreck on the county line near the 195 marker, so Cooper can’t leave until the scene is clear. Mr. Lindsey’s on my home phone with the station’s direct line forwarded to it. Lea’s sick, and I have no babysitter. He’s whispering into his cell that he’s locked in the first-floor public restroom of his hotel. He’s not being a nuisance this time, boss. There’s two men ransacking the lobby, looking for a safe. I could hear them on the other side of the door talking loud like lunatics. Either they’re out-of-towners who don’t know there’s no safe at Arrow’s Renaissance, or they don’t care that the hotel is open twenty-four hours with a staff. You have to check it out before they find him. There’s no one else to do it but you.”
Hiring more deputies becomes inevitable. I’m a family man now, except putting other people in harm’s way and having to leave Astrid on our first night back together because I don’t have a bigger work force leaves me gutted.
Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.
Astrid nods, posture stiff, glare rigid; her deputy’s guise. The blood in my veins swops with the kind of fear that makes bladders empty themselves prematurely.
“Oh hell no, you’re not, Astrid. Don’t even think about it. You are not going with me. You’re staying here, where it’s safe.” My hands envelop her stomach. A meeting of the minds needed, I lay my forehead on hers. “When there’s not two of you walking into danger, you can be my partner again. Deal?”
She exhales and pecks the end of my nose, wearing a sad expression that’s tearing my heart out. “Be safe.”
“Damn straight. I’ll call when it’s over and come back here so I can tail you home. Don’t leave until I get back, baby. Promise me.” Even my duties as an officer can’t tear me away from her until she repeats the words, and it feels pretty damn good to call anything that’s mine hers too.
“I promise,” she says softly, pilfering one last caress from my lips before I jog off, slamming the phone to my ear on my way out of the gardens.
“On the way, Meagan. Three-way Mr. Lindsey for me.”
“Will do, boss. Sorry about ruining your reunion with Astrid.” Clicking, then ringing on her extra line reverberates in my earpiece.
“Reunion, huh?” I respond in the name of chit chat, while we wait for Mr. Lindsey to answer his second line. I couldn’t care less if Meagan knows about Astrid and I, more interested in reuniting with her as soon as possible.
“Yes sir, boss, reunion. You two didn’t fool anybody. Damn sure don’t believe your ‘rats in the station’ lie. Copper and I have a bet on how long it’d be before you two got back together again. He lost. You’re more stubborn than he thought.” The ringing stops. “Mr. Lindsey, say something.”
“Oorah,” he rasps, a fellow Marine.
Military bonding. Great. “Should I yell out ‘Hooah’ since I was in the Army? Or can we talk about the situation at hand? Where did the burglars enter, Mr. Lindsey?”
“The front damn doors, while I was cleaning the restroom. I heard the bells on the door jingle and was just about to tell the customer I’d be out in a minute when I heard the side employee door to the front desk squeak. Someone yelled, ‘Find the safe.’ I locked the restroom real quiet like, so they couldn’t get in, then called the sheriff’s office direct. Thank AT&T for call forwarding. These guys are high on something too, or too stupid to know an operating hotel has a desk clerk somewhere in the building. Don’t know which it is, don’t care. I want them out, Sheriff Powers. Twenty years ago, you’d be scraping them off my sidewalk. If I get to my shotgun, you’ll be wiping them off my walls.”
Providing company for the burglars is the worst thing he can do.
“Don’t leave the restroom to get your shotgun. You’re pretty much safe where you are. Keep it that way. Can you hear them now? Where is your weapon?” The last thing I need is for them to find it. “Any guests or cleaners there right now?”
“Yes, I can hear the loud bastards. Weapon behind the counter, under the register, on the bottom shelf behind some extra towels. They probably have the gun by now though. No guests. Last one checked out this afternoon. Cleaners were gone by eight. The elevators and stairs access are locked down, lights off, so the little shits can’t get farther than the first floor, and…” He trails off. I hope he’s just listening for something and not preparing to defend himself.
“Mr. Lindsey,” Meagan and I call out.
“I’m here,” he whispers. “I think they’ve split up. It’s quiet now, besides the rummaging going on behind the front desk. I’m guessing the other one’s in the cooler or the laundry room, looking for only God knows what. Whoever’s right outside the door at the desk is probably looking for the key to my register drawer since there’s no safe that they keep talking about. The keys are on my wrist, stupid sons of turds!”
I don’t know what’s worse, a victim too scared to speak, or an ex-soldier too angry to stay quiet.
“Keep your voice down, Mr. Lindsey.” If I keep him on the phone any longer, he’ll draw the criminals right to him and probably lose his life.
“Meagan, keep him on your line, but no talking unless he thinks they’re trying to get in the restroom with him. I’m at my truck and going to hang up now. Unless there’s new developments on the scene before I get there, don’t call me back. I’ll radio Cara at dispatch on my way to the hotel.”
“Got it, boss.”
Chapter Nine
Blake
I heave the phone back in my pocket and my ass in the suburban, then flip the dash switches for the lights and sounds of the sirens. Sometimes, the noise is enough to clear out the perps. Anyone milling around afterwards is asking to be arrested. I tense up involuntarily. Not good.
These bastards are not going to go down easy.
My future wife and infant steal into my head as I pass by the spot on the road where they reentered my orbit this morning. Now, they’re at the center of my world. Intending for them to stay there, I open the compartment beneath my elbow, relieve it of my handheld radio on the installed charger and my Glock 60, then lob the radio to my mouth.
“Cara, come in.” I take a curve in the road almost too sharply. The back end of the truck bounces around. I slow down at an intersection seconds later.
Static from the two-way fills the interior of the truck with noise-reducing insulation. “Copy, Sheriff. What’s your 20? I know where you’re going already. Talked to Meagan. Copper will get there as fast as he can for backup.”
“Old Arrow Road, heading east. Two minutes to destination.”
“Be safe. Congratulations on Astrid coming back, Sheriff.”
Seriously, Meagan!
Nothing secret in Arrow… ever.
“Thank you, Cara. Over and out until I have someone in custody… or not.”
“10-4.”
I sling the radio in the passenger’s seat and veer right, the hotel six minutes away, well, sixty seconds at eighty-miles per hour. A green four-door, rusty Honda loiters under the extended roof
of the hotel. Parking behind the car, I grab the radio, gun, and open the door.
“Cara, come in.”
“Copy.”
Flanked by the opened door and my truck, I peer into the glass walls of the hotel, looking for signs of movement at the front desk. It’s quiet as death inside, and much more dangerous. “I’m on the scene. Run license plate Alpha Delta Brava 1093 out of Florida. Going behind enemy lines.” The criminals own the building now.
“Check. Over and out.”
After tossing the radio back in the truck, I retrieve my bullet vest from the back seat, strap it into place, clip the gun’s safety off, and take aim.
“Sheriff’s Department!” I yell at the doors while sweeping the car.
It’s abandoned with fast food wrappers everywhere, along with used pipes for smoking dope. No way to tell how many junkies are hitting the place, but it’s up to five at the max. The car couldn’t possible hold more comfortably. Just three criminals looking for money is bad odds for me. I try hard to relax, or I’ll shoot anything that moves. Mr. Lindsey better be still until this is over. That’ll happen in a matter of seconds if it’s up to me.
Astrid flashes in my mind. My neck bunches up to my ears. Tension climbs my spinal cord like it’s a ladder. She’s just more incentive to fire now, investigate who has my bullet in them later. I empty my thoughts then listen intently for noises that’ll reveal the criminals’ whereabouts, or where they headed. Nothing.
Too damn quiet.
Anticipation and adrenaline comingle. My trigger finger twitches. I fling one of the hotel’s entrances wide with one hand, then wait for anything to pop off. Stillness reigns. I tread onto gold diamonds in red carpeting. The short end of the L-shaped foyer with burgundy couches and end tables backed against the walls is expectantly deserted. There’s still the long end with the elevators and breakfast bar to clear.
The front desk is ransacked, with the employee gate folded up. Beside it is the iron barricade that Mr. Lindsey has secured from the other side. I point the business end of my Glock at the counter.