Officer out of Uniform (Lock and Key Book 2)

by Ranae Rose

  The girl’s wide smile wavered, but only briefly. “Okay, how about I tell you what the different rose colors mean, and you stop me when I hit on the message you want to send?”

  Slowly, Henry nodded.

  “Pink roses are a great choice if you’re trying to show a woman how special she is to you. They’re a classic symbol of femininity and refinement, gentleness and grace.” She pointed to a pink bloom. “The darker shades can also be used to show appreciation. People usually send pink roses to their mothers, sisters—”

  “We’re not related,” Henry said quickly, trying not to scoff out loud at the idea of presenting Sasha with delicate pink flowers. Refinement? Gentleness?

  Yeah, those words didn’t exactly capture her essence. Not that he was complaining.

  “Okay. Moving on…” She plucked a yellow bloom from the vase and held it aloft. “Yellow is the color of happiness and friendship. If—”

  Henry’s gaze was drawn to one rose in particular – a bright red blossom. Fire engine red, just like Sasha’s bikini. “I think I’ll go with this,” he said.

  The girl’s eyes got wide, and her eyebrows bounced up and down. “True red. That’s the color of romantic love and undying passion. Very dramatic, yet classic at the same time.”

  Very dramatic – Henry had just been thinking something similar about the girl’s rose color spiel.

  “I’ll take them,” he said, suddenly sure of himself. “A whole bouquet. Just do whatever you do to make them look good.”

  The girl beamed. “Do you want one or two dozen?”

  “One,” he said, because he had a feeling that a dozen of the bold red flowers would convey his message just fine.

  “Perfect. She’ll love them.”

  He hoped so. Thought so, or he wouldn’t have been buying them. While he waited for the girl to assemble the bouquet, he stood with his back to the flower cooling unit, watching foot traffic stream by. Physically, he saw the middle-aged guy walking some kind of Blue Heeler mix on a leash, saw the mom shopping with twin little girls in tow.

  But in his mind’s eye, all he saw was Sasha.

  He had a feeling that wasn’t going to change any time soon.

  * * * * *

  As she walked through her front door after a long day at work, Sasha briefly considered sprinting back to her car, pressing the pedal to the floor and speeding to Henry’s house. The only thing that stopped her was the fact that she didn’t sprint – not without an industrial strength sports bra on, anyway. If she simply took off running without one, she’d probably be knocked out cold by one of the girls.

  That thought had her sighing as she sat her purse down on the counter. Not because she relished the thought of dangerous athletic feats, but because she could remember Henry’s hands on her body, unhooking the tricky little buckle that’d held her bikini top strap together, caressing the curves of her breasts.

  God, how long would she have to wait for him to make the next move? It’d only been three days, and already, her resolve to play it cool was wavering. Would it really hurt anything if she made an impromptu appearance at his place that evening, stopped by with something good to eat and a bottle of wine?

  She knew there was no way he’d turn her down. Her home cooking, alcohol and the aforementioned girls constituted a potent trinity – one Henry would surely find irresistible.

  Not that there’d been any alcohol involved in their night together. No, they’d both been completely sober. If they’d acted a little intoxicated, that’d only been an effect of their natural chemistry.

  Just as Sasha cast a longing glance out the window at her car, her phone rang.

  Immediately, her heart skipped a beat. Could it be Henry?

  She fished her phone out of her purse and answered, trying her best to sound like she wasn’t fantasizing about sprinting out of the house, sports bra be damned.

  “Sasha, it’s me.”

  “Oh, hi mom.” She tried to keep her disappointment out of her voice, feeling guilty over wishing Henry had called instead of her mother.

  “I was just wondering whether you still plan to make the trip up here tomorrow,” her mother said. “I know you’ve been busy at work, and I hadn’t heard from you since last week…”

  Sasha swore silently inside her head. “I’m sorry, mom. Of course I’m still coming. I just got caught up in everything that’s been going on and forgot to call.” Her gaze drifted toward the calendar hanging beside the fridge, settling on tomorrow’s date.

  Everything inside her seemed to condense, balling up into a tangle of longing and dull-edged pain. The feeling didn’t exactly pass, just faded slowly, leaving a sense of wistfulness in its wake.

  “Is everything all right? You all aren’t having trouble with anymore prison escapees down there, are you?”

  “No, nothing like that. It’s been more than a month since those two broke out. You know one of them is dead, and the other is on the lam. Probably halfway around the world by now, lying low somewhere.”

  “Of course. Your poor friends… Sometimes I worry about you Sasha, living so close to that prison.”

  “I’m fine, mom. When I said I was busy, I only meant with work. Plus, I met a guy.” She didn’t tell her mom every time she met a new guy, but right now, she’d say just about anything to distract her from her exaggerated fears about the prison. The Levinson brothers’ escape – which had happened earlier that summer – was the first time anyone had ever escaped from the Riley Correctional Center. It would probably never happen again.

  For a few minutes, they chatted about Henry. Sasha didn’t reveal much, just assured her mom that he was a nice guy, and yes, he was very handsome. She didn’t mention that he worked as a correctional officer at the prison.

  “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow,” her mother eventually said. “I know it’s not going to be a very happy occasion, but I thought maybe we could get lunch together. Go somewhere nice. We don’t get to see each other nearly as often as I’d like.”

  “Sure.”

  “Okay. I’ll pick up the flowers. See you around…?”

  “Eleven.”

  Moments later, Sasha slipped her phone back into her purse with a sigh. Maybe it was a good thing Henry hadn’t gotten in touch with her today. She had an early morning ahead of her, and it wasn’t going to be a particularly easy day, even with a full night’s sleep.

  * * * * *

  The bouquet of red roses Henry had bought for Sasha trembled in the passenger seat as he made his way toward home, intent on changing out of his uniform and taking a quick shower before he went to her place. He’d strapped the vase in using the passenger side seatbelt. As long as he didn’t make any sudden stops, the flowers would be fine.

  He had to remind himself of that when he saw something that made him want to slam on the brakes.

  “Shit!” He threw out a hand, holding the vase against the seat as he rolled to a rushed stop. Luckily, there was no one on the road behind him. With his truck mostly on the road’s narrow shoulder, he sat and stared for half a second, a sick feeling churning in his gut.

  The scene that’d stopped him looked like something out of a horror movie, and it was just a few yards from the roadside.

  CHAPTER 3

  Henry tore his gaze away and glanced to where a long driveway led back to a rural home. The house was almost invisible behind a screen of pines, but Henry knew exactly who it belonged to, as most of the officers who worked at Riley likely did.

  It was the warden’s place.

  Henry reached for the Glock he kept in the console and unfastened his seatbelt as the bitter taste of adrenaline filled his mouth. Glancing back at the bloody scene baking in the sun, he could make out the warden’s square jaw and short grey hair. His body had been put on display in front of the closely spaced pines, where it was clearly meant to be seen.

  As soon as Henry opened his truck door, the smell of death hit him like a ton of bricks. He had to brace himself against it, actuall
y had to fight half a moment’s urge to turn back around and drive away. It was a disgusting scent, one that had been burnt into the olfactory region of his brain years ago, in Afghanistan.

  Memories crowded his mind, blurring with the scene in front of him, bending reality. He had to fight to keep a clear head, to focus on one nightmare at a time as he moved forward, weapon at the ready.

  The North Carolina heat was unforgiving. It wasn’t as scorching as the desert sun, but the climate was more humid, a fact which more than made up for the temperature difference. There was no way around it – in the South, a body started smelling awfully fast in July.

  At least the smell answered Henry’s primary question – the one he’d already suspected the answer to, but couldn’t have left without confirming beyond any doubt.

  The warden was definitely dead. Dead, and the way he’d died wasn’t one Henry would wish on anyone.

  * * * * *

  “Shit, that stings.” Randy Levinson jerked forward, immediately sorry he’d leaned against the pine towering behind him. His shoulders were a bright lobster red, courtesy of his latest sunburn. The pine bark had felt like a branding iron against his skin, and it’d left a smudge of sap on his arm. No way would he be scrubbing that off any time soon.

  “Shit,” he repeated, a little more quietly this time. He didn’t want the prick who’d just stumbled upon his little set-up to hear him.

  He didn’t, of course. Didn’t even turn in Randy’s direction. Instead he stood a few yards from the body Randy had left on display, weapon drawn.

  Randy bit back a laugh. He’d really outdone himself, this time. The scene he’d left by the roadside wasn’t something you could just look away from. After getting everything situated he’d only had to wait about ten minutes for someone to drive by, and judging by the uniform the guy wore, things couldn’t have worked out more perfectly.

  Randy raised his new rifle. A Blaser R8. Jesus, it was a beauty. For all the hunting Randy had done, he’d never laid hands on anything so nice ‘til today. He’d found it in the warden’s gun safe after he’d killed him. The key had just been setting on top of the safe, like the gun was meant for Randy. Until then he’d been scraping by with just a 9mm, one he’d stolen out of an unlocked car.

  Funny how things like that worked out, sometimes. People just assumed that anyone with a badge could do no wrong, but Randy knew that being on the right side of the law didn’t mean being right. Hell, he knew it better than anyone, besides maybe Troy.

  The thought made his chest feel tight and full of broken glass. Hot broken glass, little pieces of rage that dug deep into his insides, reminding him why he was back in Riley County.

  Troy had never met Randy at the blind in South Carolina like they’d planned, had never made it out of the backwoods county that housed the prison they’d risked their lives to escape from. The last time Randy had laid eyes on his brother had been when they’d both been running for their lives, fresh off the broken-down prison bus. There was no undoing the fact that Troy was dead, no making it right.

  But there was always revenge. That was something.

  The prison officer who’d pulled his blue truck over on the side of the road showed up crystal-clear in the Blaser’s scope. Looking at a target through it was like watching a hunting show on high definition TV.

  A fresh, stabbing wave of anger swept through Randy. Back when he’d had to hunt for food – to put dinner on the table and avoid another asskicking from his dad, if he was lucky – he’d done it with a rifle older than he’d been.

  The prison warden had to have spent a good five grand on this gun, at least. Probably all so that he could make his dick feel bigger, like a fancy rifle made him more of a man. Randy tipped his head back from the scope and looked down at the weapon, stricken by a combination of bitter resentment and reluctant awe.

  It didn’t matter who’d bought the gun or why. He was going to put it to good use. Call it providence, or just a lucky fucking break. After the hell he’d been through, he deserved it. Grinning, he raised the weapon again, peered through the scope.

  It’d be so easy to kill the CO in his crosshairs, one from Riley – Randy could tell by the uniform. The years he’d spent inside that prison had left their stain on his memory, and he’d recognize the dark blue get-up anywhere. With the help of the Blaser’s scope, he could even make out the words and insignia on the sleeve patches. The stock of the gun fit easily against his shoulder, so that holding it felt natural. There was no real ache or strain on his arm, and he had a feeling the gun wouldn’t kick too bad.

  He longed to pull the trigger and test it out.

  Instead, he just watched – watched the officer prowl around the side of his truck, gaze shifting from the body to the house and surrounding woods.

  Randy wasn’t afraid of getting shot – he was well hidden and he’d be able to pick the bastard off without even revealing himself, if he wanted to. But he’d wanted a witness to the scene he’d laid out, and that was what he’d gotten. Sure, he could off this guy and wait for another vehicle to come along, but that wasn’t part of his plan, and he’d planned the hell out of this.

  Besides, the officer in his crosshairs didn’t deserve to die quick and easy like an ignorant animal nosing around in the underbrush, oblivious. Randy longed to tear his life away from him, but he wanted him to suffer, to feel hunted first. Wanted to make sure the man felt an overwhelming sense of impending doom dogging him, casting a shadow over him everywhere he went.

  Just like Troy had, trapped in Riley County up until he’d died. Just like Randy had during his time on the lam, no matter how far he’d run. Always looking over his shoulder, always feeling that crawling sensation between his shoulder blades. Paranoid. Afraid, and for good reason.

  Roadside gravel crunched beneath the CO’s boots, and then his truck tires as he drove away.

  Randy lowered the Blaser, rubbing a thumb over the leather inlaid in the stock. He turned on his heel and started making his way deeper into the woods, following a carefully pre-planned route. The police would be there soon, and he had no intentions of being caught.

  Truth was, returning to Riley County had finally allowed him to shake the exhausting sense of fear that’d followed him all the way to the Mexican border. Back in the heart of where it’d all started, knowing every badge within a fifty mile radius would soon be hunting him, he felt free. Finally free.

  And why shouldn’t he? He had a good rifle – the best – and he knew how to use it. A stash of cartridges weighed down his pockets, and he intended to make every one count. It was a game now, and he didn’t just plan to win – he planned to enjoy it. In the end, it wouldn’t matter whether he lived or died. The people who’d killed his brother would suffer more than he ever had, and that was all that mattered.

  As for Randy, he’d live his last days in freedom, doing what he loved best – taking what he wanted, doing whatever the fuck he pleased and giving hell to those who deserved it. He’d go out on his own terms, in a blaze of bloody glory.

  * * * * *

  Henry didn’t drive far, went maybe an eighth of a mile back toward Cypress, his heart beating in double-time. When he stopped, the nightmare he’d rolled up on was in his rearview mirror. Distance had mercifully dulled the gory details, the matte redness of drying blood. He’d be able to see if anyone approached the body, but – hopefully – whoever had murdered the warden wouldn’t be able to see him, if they were still around.

  “I’m sure,” he said, gripping his phone hard.

  “Shit,” Jeremy said. “The warden? I’d hoped all this was over. Seems stupid now.”

  “You think Randy Levinson had something to do with this,” Henry said. It was more of a statement than a question. The same thing had occurred to him as soon as he’d seen the body.

  Jeremy sighed. “Given their history, and the way the warden was killed… Kinda seems like a message, don’t you think? Of course, there’s no knowing for sure. But my bet is on Randy.�
��

  “Yeah. Mine too.”

  “I’m on my way. Don’t move. We’ll have to question you.”

  Henry agreed, though it wasn’t like he’d have any useful information to give. He’d been the first to lay eyes on the scene, but nothing had changed – everything was on display, laid out in a way that no one who saw would ever forget.

  * * * * *

  Dusk was settling over Riley County, purpling the sky over the tops of pines when Henry finally pulled away from the roadside crime scene and dialed Liam and Grey. Yellow tape had been strung up and the road was crowded with vehicles, all with flashing lights. Henry was the only person in any sort of uniform going instead of staying, and he was glad to leave it all behind.

  The three-way call was mildly chaotic, until Henry shut up Grey – who’d immediately started rambling about going to the beach – with the news.

  “Are you shitting me?” Grey demanded. “The warden’s dead?”

  “I’m serious.”

  “Are you sure? Did you … check?”

  Henry suppressed a wave of nausea by sheer force of will. “Dead sure. No pun intended.”

  “Listen,” he continued, “I know the investigation just started, but Jeremy and I think Randy Levinson may be the killer. It’d be crazy if PERT wasn’t called into the search again, especially with how small the police force is here. Do you guys want to—”

  “I’m not leaving Alicia,” Liam said. There was a sharp edge to his voice, and Henry recognized it for what it was: anger. That, and fear. “No way in hell, especially if Randy Levinson is back in Riley County.”

  Henry bit his tongue before he could say something stupid. He couldn’t blame Liam for not wanting to leave his fiancée’s side – not after what had happened earlier that summer. Hell, Liam had just returned to work a few days ago, barely recovered from his knife wounds and the surgery they’d required. Thinking about that sent a sharp pang of anger-laced fear sailing through Henry’s chest. What if something happened to Sasha?