by Andi Jaxon
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 by Andi Jaxon
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address:
[email protected]
Cover design and formatting by Just write. Creations and Services
Edited by My Favorite British Arsehole (Emma Mack) with Ultra Editing Co
Proofed by Kayla Bellamy
www.andijaxon.com
To my Alpha Bitches, Kayla and Ashley, this was a labor of love that never would have been finished without you.
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY-THREE
THIRTY-FOUR
THIRTY-FIVE
THIRTY-SIX
THIRTY-SEVEN
THIRTY-EIGHT
THIRTY-NINE
FORTY
FORTY-ONE
FORTY-TWO
FORTY-THREE
FORTY-FOUR
FORTY-FIVE
FORTY-SIX
FORTY-SEVEN
FORTY-EIGHT
FORTY-NINE
FIFTY
FIFTY-ONE
FIFTY-TWO
EPILOGUE
OTHER BOOKS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kristen
THE LAST OF THE boxes have been unloaded into my new living room. I’m sweaty, dirty, and starving, but I’m finally on my own. My own place, my own job, my own life. Ben and Alister drop down onto my new couch, exhausted and sweaty.
“Thank you so much. Seriously. I never would have been able to get this done by myself.” I plop down on the floor and lean back onto my hands.
“We know.” They say in unison.
“I’m hungry. What are you feeding me?” Ben closes his eyes and leans into Alister.
“I’ll order pizza… once I find my phone…” I flop my head back and forth, but I’m not really putting much effort into it.
“Awww. We’re never going to eat,” Ben whines, sliding down the couch like a toddler throwing a fit.
Rolling my eyes, I force my tired legs to stand. “You’re so fuckin’ extra.”
Alister laughs as I search my apartment for my damn phone. I swear I spend more time looking for it than actually using it. I’m walking from room to room, shifting boxes around, when it starts to ring.
“Ah ha! Found it!” Grabbing it from my purse that I dropped on my bed when we first started moving boxes about four hours ago. My stomach sinks when I see who’s calling.
“Hello, Mother.” I drop down onto the mattress sitting on the floor.
“Kristen Grace, you have a date tomorrow. Shower and dress appropriately. You should also start spending time in the gym, you’re getting fat,” her matter of fact tone cutting right to the chase.
There’s always something I should be doing in order to not get fat, as if an added five pounds would be the worst thing to happen to me. “You don’t spend enough time with me to notice whether or not I’ve gained weight, and I’m not going on a date,” my voice flat, since I can’t work up enough emotion to give a shit.
“The Mayor’s wife, Candace, and I set it up at our last weekly lunch, you’re going to dinner with Garrett.” She informs me as if I haven’t spoken. There’s nothing more important than keeping up appearances and making everyone believe that life is perfect. Sometimes I feel like I’ve travelled back in time and am stuck in the 1940’s. Neither of my parents will talk to me about anything substantial. No, my mother wants to talk about getting married, starting a family, and giving up my dream of being an investigative journalist. That’s a man’s job, after all, according to my mother.
I hate that place. The establishment that my parents raised me in. There’s nothing comfortable or cozy about it. The marble floors shine like glass, everything is dusted, polished, and placed just so. God forbid you touch anything; Mother would have a heart attack. Maids, chefs, and grounds keepers; the place is run like a business instead of a home.
“It doesn’t matter.” I shake my head, getting back to the topic at hand. “I have no interest in going on a date with Garrett. He’s a misogynistic, selfish, bore. I would rather stick ice picks under my nails.” I smirk at her heavy sigh. Garrett and I have never gotten along, I don’t know why all of a sudden that would be different.
“Just act like a lady with dignity and everything will be fine. Garrett is a very nice young man,” her voice rises in frustration. “You’re going on this date if I have to drag you there myself. Do keep in mind that I control how much money gets put into your bank account.”
As if I’m shallow enough to care. Yes, I’m a rich kid and have gotten used to a certain way of life, but basically lived like a monk in college so I could squirrel away money, and I have a job that pays me. “Tomorrow, is Ben and Alister’s rehearsal dinner and as the Best Maid, I’m busy.”
“Kristen Grace, if you want to go out with your little friend, you have to go on the date first. Mr. Preston will be stopping by to make sure you’re there, and if I find out you were anything other than on your best behavior, there will be hell to pay.”
My blood runs cold at the mention of Mr. Preston… flashes of a Seattle Police Department uniform pop into my head. The dirty sneer showing yellowed teeth aimed my way, along with the chills that break out on my skin when he touches me. There are very few people that I can tolerate touching me, especially unexpectedly. Mike Preston seems to find ways to catch me unaware whenever he’s around.
There’s something about him I don’t trust. He seems to always be sweating or oily and smells like sweat and old fast food. He’s never done anything to make me be leery of him, but the way he looks at me, the sneer he wears when I enter the room, it’s nerve wracking. My instincts tell me to keep as far away from him as I can, yet for some reason, my father invites him to dinner at the house and I’m required to attend. Sometimes it’s multiple times in one month, then we won’t see him for six months. He triggers my nightmares, the more he’s around, the more often I have them, and the worse they get.
“I’m sorry, Mother, but it will have to be rescheduled until sometime after the wedding, or better yet, not at all.”
“Rescheduling makes you look bad, like you can’t manage your schedule.” Her high and mighty tone irritates me.
“Since I wasn’t consulted when the original date was set, it’s not my fault my mother was overzealous. Change the date or he’s going to be stood up. Honestly, I prefer the latter.” I hang up the call and head back to the living room, placing my online order for pizza. I eat with Alister and Ben so often, I no longer have to ask what they want, I already know. ‘Serious Pizza’ is our favorit
e and now that I live closer, they deliver.
“Okay guys, pizza in thirty!” I call to them as I dig my champagne glasses out of a box and pull out my chilled bottle of Brut. “Alister, come help me!”
I pull the wrapping and wire cage from the bottle and set it aside for Alister to pop the cork. I stand in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, but when Alister doesn’t come in, I go searching for him. From around the corner, I see Ben and Alister kissing. The sight makes my heart happy, and maybe a little jealous.
Alex
“BENNET!” I JERK UP in my chair as the captain yells my name, waiting for me to tell him about the night.
“Captain, last night there were two shootings, a domestic dispute, and five drunk drivers. As far as we can tell, none of them are connected, no deaths, and two hospitalizations but both are expected to make a full recovery. Witnesses have been questioned, statements have been taken, reports filed and in your inbox.”
“Very well, the squad did a great job handling the night shift. You’re on leave tonight, correct?”
“That’s correct.”
“We’ll see you Sunday.”
With that as a good-bye, I head to the locker room to change out of my uniform. I’m so damn tired, I want to just sleep in my car, but I have things I have to get done.
My phone goes off again, but I don’t have the energy to care. My family knows that if it’s important, to call me, but text messages will be answered when I feel like it. With the amount of notifications I’ve gotten this morning, I’m betting it’s Jill wanting to go a few rounds, but I’m definitely not up for it today.
Unstrapping my bullet proof vest, it hangs in my locker to dry and air out, the weight of it finally lifting from my body has me sighing in relief. My uniform is folded and tucked into a duffle bag, along with my belt and boots, my side arm is locked and I’m ready to go.
Most days, after a shift, I’ll go to the gym so leaving the station in a wife beater and basketball shorts is not abnormal for me. However, it’s incredibly comfortable to sleep in too.
Unlocking the back of my Jeep, I put my duffle inside and climb behind the wheel. First stop is for ice, then I can head home. The clock says eight am, I can get a solid eight hours of sleep if I’m lucky, but I’m not going to bet on it. School is out for the summer, so the kids are always around making noise. I’ve lived in my house long enough now that they know when I’m home during the day, they need to be quiet around my place, but kids are kids and they’re loud.
Pulling into the corner store in my neighborhood, I grab a bag of ice from the freezer and head inside.
“Good morning, Officer Bennet,” the cashier says.
“Good morning, Jen. Did you get your car started?” she rings me up and I hand over cash.
“No,” she lets out a deep sigh. “I walked today, I don’t know when I’ll be able to afford parts to fix whatever is wrong with it.” She gives me a sad smile that breaks my heart. As a single mother of two rowdy boys, she doesn’t have much spare income.
“I’ll take a look at it this weekend, see if I can get it to limp along a little while longer,” I grab the bag of ice and turn toward the door.
“Thanks, Alex. You are such a good man. I don’t know what this neighborhood would do without you.”
“They would find a way, people always do, but I’m glad to help out where I can. Have a good afternoon.”
Pulling into the street, I make my way through the streets of houses which have seen better days. Roofs with moss growing in the shingles and on the siding, broken down cars, overgrown lawns, and sagging porches. This neighborhood used to be middle class, back in the 70’s when it was built, but it’s been forgotten over the decades. Left to fend for itself as the economy changed, families moved out and drug users moved in, lowering the value one house at a time.
Now, kids run around with no supervision, holes in their shoes and jackets, hungry. It wasn’t long after starting with SPD that I moved in, knowing that this is truly my life’s calling. I don’t have to live in a low-income neighborhood, I can definitely afford a better place, but living here gives me extra money every month. Money that I use to feed the hungry, clothe and shoe the kids that need it, help the struggling single parent who has no support. I teach these kids that you are more than your circumstances. I teach them skills, how to use their hands to fix and build, teach them to help people who need it without being asked and without expecting anything in return.
These are the kids that everyone seems to forget. They’re dirty, typically looked down on by society as troublemakers, but they are far from it. I’m so damn proud of these kids. The graduation rate of this neighborhood has risen significantly since I moved in, teen pregnancy rates have dropped, less and less kids are joining gangs and getting into drugs. All because I showed them that they are worth so much more than that. These kids are going to change the world.
“Officer Alex!” an excited voice yells as I dump ice into the cooler on my front porch. Looking behind me, I see Ivy and her little gang of girls that help me keep the boys in line.
“Hey girls, how’s it going?” the smile on my face is an easy one, I really love the kids around here.
Ivy, who is going into the third grade come fall, runs up with her curly black hair bouncing and wraps her arms around my waist. I hug her back, knowing she needs the comfort. Her home life is rough, her dad is in and out of jail a lot while her mom works long hours at a local hospital. She’s an only child and left alone a lot more than she should be.
With my arms around her, I give her a squeeze and wait for her to let go first. Her face turns up toward me and a big smile shines in her eyes. “Thanks, I feel better.”
“Anytime.”
With that, she skips back to her friends and they take off, looking to crash the boy’s fun, I’m sure. Shaking my head, I go back inside, on the hunt for something quick to eat so I can crash. Opening the fridge, I grab the jug of milk and unscrew the cap before swallowing a big gulp. Mom would smack my head if she saw that. The thought makes me chuckle, my mom raised me to be a civilized human, but you wouldn’t know it with some of the shit I do.
Just as I’m placing the milk back in the fridge, there’s a knock on the door. I knew better than to think I could go straight to bed. For the first hour I’m home after a shift, there’s nothing but people coming around. Some days it’s exhausting but most of the time I really don’t mind it. Most of the people that live around here are good people that have fallen on hard times, they just need a little help.
Opening the door, my rag tag group of biker boys is taking over my porch. “Hey guys, what are you all up to today?”
“Can we fix my bike now?” JJ looks up at me hopefully.
I push out a quick sigh but smile and nod at him. “Alright, man, let’s get these bikes fixed up. Milo, go grab yours too. Anyone else need anything?” I glance around the group of boys, a couple lift their hands then take off.
“Everyone grab a water bottle from the cooler, then follow me. Chug it now or chug it later, I want all of you to have finished it before you leave.” The boys shuffle around to follow my directions as I head to the garage and open the roll up door.
JJ is the first one in the garage with his bike, he’s the leader of this group. As a ten-year-old kid, he seems to rule pretty fairly, and since some of the older kids have moved on, he keeps his friends out of trouble. He’s a damn good kid, doesn’t like school much, but is smart as whip when it comes to taking stuff apart. He likes to build, tinker, and fix things. I’m more than happy to help him learn.
My garage is fully stocked with tools and spare parts for a lot of things. As someone that fixes everything from kids bikes to leaky sinks to cars, I’ve acquired a lot of stuff in the six years I’ve lived here.
“Alright, JJ, let’s take a look at that chain,” he wheels it over to me and lifts it up onto the work bench. On closer inspection, the chain just needs some grease and some tightening, shouldn’t
take long. “JJ, grab the WD-40 for me, would ya?”
Since he helps me fix things, he knows where everything is in here. The can hits the table, but JJ isn’t watching me, he’s checking on the group.
“Someone find Milo,” his voice strong as he says the order. There’s no fighting, arguing, or belly aching about it, someone just gets up and takes off to find the missing kid. Milo is JJ’s neighbor, a few years younger than most of the group, and can usually be found with his nose in a book. He doesn’t understand social queues or sarcasm which makes him an easy target for bullies. Knowing that someone is looking for him, JJ turns back toward the bike and concentrates on what I’m doing.
“Alright, see this nut here? We need to loosen it so we can slide the tire back some. That will put more tension on the chain, so it doesn’t have enough slack to come off anymore.” I hand him two wrenches so he can hold one side and loosen the other. It takes a minute but he’s able to get the nut to turn. The pride on his face is clear, he was strong enough to do it without help.
I position the bike a bit and tell him to tighten it back up, spray some WD-40 on the axel and he’s ready to go. “Alright, take it for a spin while I get Milo’s bike fixed up.” He’d just arrived back with the messenger sent to find him.
With a huge smile on his face, JJ races out of my garage and down the street, cheering like a maniac. That right there is why I do this. I just made that kids day and it took five minutes of my time.
“Alright guys, who just needs air in their tires?” two kids raise their hands. “You know where the pump is, go ahead and get it done. Make sure you watch the PSI, so you don’t over fill the tires.”
“Yes, sir,” they say in unison.
“Milo?” the wild sandy hair pops up from next to the door. “Come on up here, let’s take a look at your bike.”
With a nod he sets his book down on the ground and brings his bike over to the bench for me to lift up. “What’s going on with your bike?”
“It doesn’t want to peddle.” His shoulders shrug, clearly not knowing what the problem is. I flip the bike over and try to move the peddles, he’s right, they don’t want to turn. Taking a closer look at the chain and axel, I can see the problem. Rust.