“Hey,” I breathe out into the speaker when she answers.
“Hi,” she replies, her tone timid and shy.
There’s a brief silence as I wait for her to speak, unsure of where to go with this conversation.
“I’ve decided to go to the cops,” she finally says. “I’m going to turn Quinton in.”
For her to tell me that, I feel a relief stronger at this moment than I did the day I was released from prison. I want Cass to get her justice more than I wanted mine.
Quinton will look real pretty when they bring him in beat up.
“Will you go with me?” she asks.
Her asking me this means so much. It hands a piece of the trust she lost from me back, giving me another chance to prove to her that I’ll be by her side, that I’m always here for her.
“Of course,” I reply.
She shouldn’t even have to wonder if I’d go with her.
“Will you …” She hesitates, and I hear her heavy breathing. “Will you stay with me tonight?”
“I’ll be there in twenty.” I need to run home, shower, and then be back at my girl’s side.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Cassidy
I’m doing the right thing.
Those are the five words I’ve been singing to myself like a lullaby song on repeat in a newborn’s room.
“I’m scared,” I tell Lincoln as I change into my pajamas.
I called and asked him to come over.
He did.
If I dig deep inside myself, if I claw into my heart, I have no doubt I can trust Lincoln. Am I still upset over him telling Archer? Yes. But I’d much rather have a man more worried about my safety than pacifying me.
His arrival shocked everyone in the living room. I hadn’t told them that I invited him over, nor had I told them that I’d decided to go to the police. I needed to know that Lincoln had my back, would be by my side, before I made any declarations. Lincoln made small talk with everyone as we all yawned like we’d been on no-sleep binges.
Ten minutes ago, Grace went to bed, and after confirming Lincoln was staying with me fifteen times, Rex and Carolina went home. It’s nice, knowing I have so many people who care about my well-being. I should’ve known I wasn’t so alone earlier.
“Scared of Quinton?” Lincoln asks, stopping to stare at me from across the room.
I nod. “After my arrest, he threatened me, my family, to do things to us. I’m terrified he’ll retaliate.”
Lincoln peels off his shirt, revealing his six-pack. “He seems more bark than bite.”
“How do you know?” I raise a brow, eyeing him up and down—not only in curiosity, but also because, damn, he’s hot. Even in situations like this, I’m still attracted to him in every sense.
He blows out a breath. “Honesty is the best policy, right?”
“Honesty is the best policy.”
“Your brothers and I …” He rubs at his forehead. “We tracked Quinton down.”
“Why am I not surprised?” I mutter.
“Quinton’s family owns a competing business to my family’s. After my father’s and my arrests, his family went and poached all of our clients, forcing us to shut the company down. As soon as I found out the name, I knew who it was.”
“So, you’d met him before?”
“Before tonight? No. But I know his brother. We went to school together.”
“Whoa, what do you mean, before tonight?”
“I paid him a visit … told him to leave you alone.”
That’s when my eyes travel to his hands. I noticed a few scratches on one but didn’t pay it too much mind because there’s already enough stuff on my mind. Now, it makes sense. “Is that what the messed-up fists are from?”
There isn’t one inch of shame on his features. “Possibly.”
“Lincoln”—I release a heavy sigh and sink down on my bed—“I don’t want you getting in trouble over me.”
“Cass,” he says, his voice soft-spoken. “I’ll never stop standing up for the woman I’m falling in love with.”
Good thing I’m sitting because this is the moment I’d fall on my face.
Our conversation comes to a halt.
My brain, though?
It spirals, spinning with countless emotions and questions.
I’m not sure how I’m looking at him, but as he peers at me, panic sets over his features.
He blows out a deep breath, a labored breath, and falls to his knees in front of me. “Cass, I know we’ve been on the fence, but when I saw what happened to you, it killed my soul.”
I stare at him, bewildered.
He continues speaking, continues warming my heart, confirming that this won’t be the end of us and that I can still be happy. “Your pain caused me pain. Is there a possibility I can get in trouble for kicking his ass? Maybe. But I’ll take those consequences if that means he’ll stay away from you.” He abruptly stops, his face nervous and frenzied as he eyeballs me. He grabs my hand in his, massaging the top of it, and softens his voice. “When it comes down to it, yes, I’m falling in love with you. I didn’t go into this thinking that, and it’s only been a couple of months since we started hanging out, so it might be considered early, but you feel what you feel, you know? I’ve never felt this way with anyone, and from what I guess, it’s love because it’s surreal to me.”
Oh.
My.
Freaking.
God.
Did he say that?
I wish I could rewind that moment and listen to it over and over again. All my awareness is on us, on our connection, on our emotions toward each other. I squeeze his hand, my heart jumping in my chest, thankful for finally some happiness and some damn good news. Lincoln has been my savior, and I’m so happy I found a man who knows how to handle me, how to care for me, how to love me. And in part, I’m going to do the same for him.
Dropping his hand, I reach down, and with shaking hands, I cup his chin. Tears fall down my cheeks, my feelings for him finally being thrown out in their truth.
I taste the salt of my tears as I say, “I’m falling in love with you too. I’m sorry for being angry with you … for keeping the Quinton thing … the bruise from you.” My words are all flowing into nearly one, as I’m frantic and scared that I won’t be able to express all my feelings before this moment is over. “I was just in shock, but I love you.”
His hand blankets mine over his face, shaking over my shaking ones, as we pour out our truths like the drinks we serve.
Straight up.
No bullshit.
All honesty.
Me and him.
I sniffle back the tears. Unlike what they’ve been lately, these ones are from relief, from happiness, from the excitement of being loved. He nuzzles his face in my palm, his rough scruff rubbing against the sensitive skin. We relax against each other. It’s as if a tension bubble had been popped.
When he pulls away, our eyes meet, and he reaches out, his thumb abrasive as he wipes away my tears. “I love you, Cassidy.”
I gulp, nodding, and blurt out, “I love you, Lincoln.”
It’s the ass crack of dawn when my doorbell rings.
And rings.
And rings.
Oh God, here we go again.
Last night started in hell and ended in heaven. After Lincoln and I finally broke down and explored our emotions before throwing them out to the other, the night relaxed. When he asked to see my neck, to see how it was healing, there was no hesitation this time. He stared at it, anguish in his eyes as if he wished he could heal it with them.
We lay in bed that night, his finger running along the bare skin of my thigh, and talked for hours—about anything and everything.
Lincoln slips on a pair of sweats, throws on a hoodie, and says, “I got it,” before leaving the bedroom.
“Oh, man, do I have some fucking news for you,” I hear Rex say from the other room.
I hurriedly dress and join them in the living room, whe
re Rex is standing with a stack of papers tucked underneath his armpit. Grace is on the couch, staring at him in curiosity, while we all await his early morning pop-in information.
“Quinton, your little ex,” Rex starts, his gaze darting to me. “The guy has quite the drug setup going on. Not only is it him and a few friends, but there are dirty cops on his team as well.” He snatches the stapled papers from his arm and throws them down onto the coffee table. “You gotta read this shit.”
So much dawns on me.
Quinton being comfortable with one officer and then uneasy when the other showed up.
Him doing the bro hug with the officer.
He’d been working with the first one who approached my car.
“We need to do something about this,” Rex says.
“I know a way.” Lincoln grabs the stack of papers. “I’ll be back.”
He smacks a kiss to my cheek and leaves without providing any additional information.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Lincoln
This time, I don’t bother going to his office.
I go straight to the source and pray he doesn’t call the cops on me.
Isla answers the door, wearing a pink silk robe. “Lincoln?”
“Where’s Louis?” I rush out. “I need to speak to him.”
“What?” she stutters, a string of disappointment crossing her features that I’m not there for her.
“I need to speak to your husband.”
She stares at me, speechless.
It’s a plus for me that their doorway is massive enough to fit a semi, and I duck around her before rushing inside their home, marble flooring underneath my squeaky sneakers. Louis is sitting in the kitchen, a full breakfast plate in front of him and the paper in his hands, all old-school style.
He frowns when I come into his view. “Jesus, why do I keep seeing you?”
I’m sure the man your wife had an affair with isn’t what you want to see before starting your day.
I hold up Rex’s papers. “I have a case for you.”
He puts the paper down and picks up his coffee. “If it’s about the assault, you need to take that up with the police. We don’t deal with small crimes like that.”
“Is a massive drug operation on a college campus a big enough crime for you?”
He pauses mid-sip of his coffee. “Go on.”
I slam the folder down on the table in front of him, causing his coffee cup to rattle. “It’s all right here. Texts, voicemails, the guys involved. My guy managed to speak to a man who used to work for them. When he told them he wanted out, they beat the shit out of him. If you can grant him immunity, he’ll tell you everything you need to know from the dirty cops they’re paying off, to their connections, to where they’re buying and making the drugs.” I blow out a breath before going on. “Cassidy, the woman he assaulted, is filing a police report against him today. Her brother is a police officer with Blue Beech PD. His thoughts are, as soon as they talk to Cassidy, they’ll go pick Quinton up for questioning. That means, he’ll basically be delivered to you.”
He gawks at me. “How do I know this is factual evidence?”
“I know I’m not the guy you want to trust, but this is worth looking into.” I gesture to the documents, the ones I read during stoplights on my drive here. “You think I had time to forge these? That I’d make this shit up?”
He pays the evidence a quick glance, a this is a joke glance. “I’ll look through it.”
“That’s all I’m asking. And there are some dirty cops in there you might want to look into as well.”
That piques his interest, and he starts thumbing through the papers.
“Do with it what you please. I have to get back to my girl.”
Isla gasps as I walk by her, and I don’t glance back once.
Chapter Thirty
Cassidy
“You’re the bravest person I know,” Lincoln tells me on our way into the police station.
It’s scary.
More terrifying than the one I was actually taken to when I was arrested.
The drive here was filled with me battling with myself. Me coming here would be a clear fuck you to Quinton, and that scared the shit out of me. I remembered his intimidation, all the threats he’d put against my family and me, and I silently prayed that they were all empty.
Surely, he wouldn’t be that dumb.
Not to mention, Quinton isn’t a hardened criminal who likes to get his hands dirty. We went for couples pedicures on the regular.
I’m brave because I have a great support system. Brave because I have my family and friends with me. Some of them have stayed outside, not wanting to overwhelm me—Grace, Georgia, Lola, Carolina, Chloe, and Rex.
We take small steps into the station. Kyle, my mother, Sierra, and Lincoln all at my side, forming a line of protection with me. All eyes turn to us at the sound of the door shutting, and the first officer I see is him—the one who was chummy with Quinton and arrested me instead. Fear spirals up my spine, and if my hands weren’t clasped with Lincoln’s and my mother’s, I’d be out the door, running and changing my mind.
Kyle shakes his head, muttering a curse underneath his breath, knowing he’s the dirty one since I described him to a T on the drive here. It’s one thing my brother hates—dirty cops. He plays by the rule book as best as he can, treats everyone with respect, and doesn’t use having a badge to his advantage.
When I make it to the front counter, I clear my throat before saying, “I’d like to report an assault.”
The woman nods and asks me to follow her before calling for a man to come with us. A heavier-set officer steps up and waddles his way toward us, gulping down a coffee on his way.
This is it.
There’s no going back.
We cram into a small, chilly room. I take the chair across from the officers, my mom occupying the one next to me and Lincoln collapsing into the one on my other side. Everyone else stands behind me, and a sense of comfort settles through my body at the feel of Sierra’s hands clasping my shoulders, a gentle squeeze of assurance that she’s here for me.
The officers are kind as I speak and don’t seem frustrated as I slowly ease into the story of what happened the night Quinton came to my house and put his hands on me. My mother cries, short sobs coming from her, but I stay strong. Not one tear drips down my face. A few times, my voice nearly breaks, but I suck in deep breaths to stop it.
I am strong.
I got this.
He will go down for touching me.
Goose bumps rush up my arms when I ease the sweater off my shoulders, revealing a cotton cami and the bruise. The woman officer snaps photos from dozens of angles and has me sign my statement before sliding a restraining order across the table. After I fill it out, they tell me they’ll be in contact.
As I walk out of the station, a heavy weight the size of an elephant drops off my shoulders.
Chapter Thirty-One
Lincoln
“I don’t know how welcome you are here.”
My attention shoots to Archer’s line of vision at his aggressive tone. He’s gripping a towel in his hand and shooting daggers at Louis, who’s walking in our direction, wearing determination and an expensive suit, sticking out like a sore thumb in the bar.
“Not here to see you,” Louis deadpans.
“It’s cool,” I tell Archer, stalking over to them.
Archer stares at me like I’ve lost my mind before understanding dawns on him. I filled him in on Cassidy and Quinton’s situation—not giving him all the details because I know Cassidy wants some specifics kept between us.
I jerk my head toward the end of the bar. Louis nods, his strides long as he meets me.
“What’s up?”
This has to be good news, right?
He wouldn’t pay me a visit for the fuck of it.
“You handed me some useful information,” he says with a nod of certainty and appreciation.
“
I know,” I reply, wanting to get to the point. “Now, are you going to do something about it?”
He has to.
Quinton needs to go down for his crimes.
He was arrested shortly after Cassidy made her statement, but it didn’t take long for his attorney to show up, and he was bailed out in an hour. The power of having money and people in high places. Quinton's issue now is that he has Louis against him, and this motherfucker likes to bring criminals down. He’s a fighter, and he has been featured in documentaries about how many cases he’s won and how well he convinces jurors that criminals need to go down for their crimes. He doesn’t fuck around, and that’s exactly who we need on our side to take Quinton down.
“Already started,” Louis replies. “We’ve tracked him, and we know he’s been bailed out. We’ve kept it hush-hush, not going to his attorney, until we find out what cops he’s working with.” He taps his hand against the bar. “Just wanted to keep you updated.”
With Kyle’s connections, he’s informed us on everything Quinton related the best he can. Cassidy’s restraining order is active, and we make sure she’s not alone. She calls us overbearing, but we’re not giving Quinton any chance to retaliate.
“I appreciate that.” I tilt my head in his direction. “How about a drink on the house?”
Louis shakes his head. “Not interested in having a drink poured by the man who was sleeping with my wife.”
Louis is the most straight-to-the-point, no-bullshit man I’ve met in my life.
With that, he turns and walks out of the bar.
It’s Cassidy’s first night back at work.
It seems like it’s been forever since she’s been here, and I’ve missed her. I’ve been waiting in anticipation to see her walk through those doors.
I’ve missed all the jokes she added to her drink orders, missed our closing times together, missed walking her out. Most of all, I’ve missed just spending time with her, hearing her laugh, seeing her smile.
Straight Up Page 20