Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Epilogue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Prologue
Chapter One
Off Duty
A Shots on Goal Standalone
Kristen Hope Mazzola
Copyright
Off Duty
Copyright © 2017 Kristen Hope Mazzola
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form, including electronic or mechanical, without written permission from the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Published: Kristen Hope Mazzola 2017
Cover Design: Kristen Hope Mazzola
Cover Image:
Model: Robert Kelly
Photographer: R+M Photography
Created with Vellum
Contents
Note From the Author
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Epilogue
Did you enjoy what you just read?
Unacceptable
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Cross Checked
Prologue
Chapter One
Acknowledgments
All books by Kristen Hope Mazzola
About the Author
Note From the Author
Thank you for reading Off Duty. In doing so, you have helped fulfill a very important goal of mine. From every purchase of any of my books, I donate to the Marcie Mazzola Foundation. The mission of the foundation is to "help better the lives of abused and at-risk children, and to build community awareness regarding the needs of children."
The Marcie Mazzola Foundation was established in 2003 by my family. On July 6, 2002, Marcie died tragically in an automobile accident. Although she was only 21 at the time of her death, Marcie had experienced many things and touched many lives. She was a beautiful young woman whose inner beauty surpassed even her physical beauty because of her compassionate nature and treatment of others.
At the time of her death, Marcie was involved in a civil lawsuit against a school bus driver who had sexually abused her when she was 11 years old. Prior to her death, it had been expected that the case would be won, but since Marcie could no longer testify, it was going to be next to impossible to win. Marcie’s attorney met with her family to determine if the suit should be continued. He advised the family that Marcie had confided in him her intention to donate her entire award to help sexually and physically abused children if she won the case. Once this was known, the family had no doubt that the suit had to continue.
The attorney’s strong commitment to Marcie prompted him to proceed with the case, and against all odds, it was won. Marcie’s estate was awarded a monetary settlement. With her attorney’s guidance and continued support, the family established a foundation as a tribute to Marcie’s life, which would continue her legacy to help children.
To learn more about The Marcie Mazzola Foundation, please visit: http://www.marciemazzolafoundation.org
Marcie Mazzola Foundation
158 Burr Road, Commack, NY 11725
phone: 631-858-1855 • fax: 631-462-8544 email: [email protected]
Dedication
To my Rockstars -
y’all are amazing and I wouldn’t have The Otters or this entire series without you!
Chapter 1
Whistler
I would never forget the first fatality I saw while on the job. The haunting, grisly scene was staple-gunned into my mind, plaguing me, haunting me. I watched as the life of a mother was snuffed out, felt her last breath escape her lips in the freezing rain in the middle of the road.
Early one evening, in terrible weather with black ice covering the asphalt, my partner and I got the call. I had been on the job for only a few months, and I was not at all prepared for what we were about to encounter. I was a young buck, fearless, ready to be the big bad hero, to swoop in and save the damsel in distress—what a fucking joke that idea was. Up until that point, the worst I had dealt with was a drug bust gone wrong were a UC was shot in the shoulder by a kingpin. That was child’s play compared to what I was about to witness.
That day had started off like any other. I showered, got dress, drove through to get coffee for my partner and I—it was almost like clockwork. We were nearing the end of our shift, that’s when our day went from pretty routine with speeding tickets and regular traffic violations and went into a day that would change me forever.
With lights flashing, my partner pushed the engine of our squad car to her limits. We flew down the road toward the intersection, and we were on the scene within minutes. Off in the distance, the wailing of horns and the blaring of sirens signaled that the ambulance and fire truck were already en route to provide assistance. We were the first to arrive out of all responding units, and I wished that hadn’t been the case.
The scene was what you’d expect from a damn movie, I honestly could not believe my eyes at first. An eighteen-wheeler had jackknifed and slid off onto the shoulder with a green four-door sedan plastered to its grill like a giant bug. The entire driver’s side of the car was smashed in, the horn was blaring, and the windshield was blown out. The driver had been expelled from the car, the passenger’s head was a bloody mess on the side window, and neither of them were moving. The truck driver wailed in agony as he frantically tried to open the cab’s door.
“Sir! Try to remain calm!” My partner was a senior officer and knew what he was doing. He sprang into action as I froze in my seat.
“Get the woman!” Todd screamed at me as he flew out of the driver’s seat. “I’ll try to get the girl out of the car.”
After shaking my head violently a few times to come to my senses, I rushed to the woman where she was sprawled out on the frozen pavement, her limbs thrown about like a ragdoll as she lay on her back, gasping for air.
Looking down into her pleading eyes, I tried to figure out what to say—but what do you say when you know someone is fighting for their life? How the fuck are you supposed to comfort a stranger when they’re dying right in front of you?
�
�Ma’am, can you tell me your name?” I asked, looking over her mangled body. Her long golden hair was stained with blood. Her clothes were torn and disheveled. Her exposed skin was scraped, bloody and bruised. I tried to access her injuries but I had no idea where to even begin.
“My daughter!” she cried. “Help Myla!”
“My partner is with her. He’s got her. What’s your name? Can you tell me your name?” I yelled, trying to hide the panic that was coating my tone.
She started to gurgle as blood poured from her lips and ears. Her skin drained of color. Her body shook. Her eyes got wide. I pulled her contorted, wounded body into my arms, rocking her while trying to comfort her in her last moments on this earth.
“You’re going to be all right. The paramedics are on their way. You’re going to be all right.” I repeated it over and over while the EMTs were rushing over to us, but they were too late. She had slipped through the cracks.
In ruthless, bitter rain, I felt her final breath leave her lungs. I watched as she blinked for the last time. I held her as she cried for us to save her daughter. In her last seconds, she was completely selfless. Her love for her daughter was at the forefront of her mind, and right there, I learned what true, unconditional love looks like.
It was a long night, to say the least. All I wanted to do after we finished the paperwork was go home, take NyQuil, and pass the fuck out, but I couldn’t back out on my plans with Gavin. I had been blowing him off way too much over the past couple of weeks and with his wedding only a few days away, I knew I needed to be a good friend.
“I just got off,” I slurred into my cell while stifling a yawn.
“I just got here, and Jordan is still working,” Gavin replied.
“Be there in a few.”
“Hurry up. I had a day from hell at practice and need a drinking buddy.” Gavin huffed before ending the call abruptly.
If he only knew what a luxury that is.
I rolled my eyes, throwing my phone in my pocket, slammed my locker shut, and started to make my way to the street to hail a cab.
It wasn’t like Gavin was a stranger to bad days but I felt like he had no idea what it was like for most of us. He came from a wealthy family, was a professional athlete, wanted for nothing most of his life. He was a hard worker and one of the best men I knew, but sometimes I wanted to slap him across the face with something that was not a first world problem and see how he coped.
“Good work tonight, boss.” Todd came around the corner from the bathroom, slapping me on the back as he shot me a toothy smile.
“Fuck, dude, I don’t know if good is the right word, but thanks.” I rubbed the back of my head with my free hand, choking up on my duffle’s handle with the other. My partner and I got along great, but we were both men of few words. We fell into awkward silences more often than not.
“See you tomorrow.” He finally waved goodbye and I was out the door, ready for the damn day to fucking end as soon as possible.
I finally bellied up to the bar, joining Gavin. Jordan bounced over with my drink already poured—four fingers of bourbon neat.
“Figured it was going to be one of those nights.” She sat the rocks glass on a black bar napkin with a wink.
“You are the best damn bartender in the entire city, you know that?” I forced a wide grin. One thing I always tried to do was leave my freaking job at the precinct, especially on the rougher days. Bringing that shit home with me would drive me fucking insane.
“This joint really needs to start making some damn food or something. I’m starving,” Gavin grumbled, shoving peanuts into his mouth before chucking one at my head.
I just rolled my eyes. At least he has better aim on the ice. “One week left of singlehood—man, are you ready?” I laughed a little at the thought. His wedding was going to be a fucking joke or a train wreck.
He shrugged off the sarcasm in my tone. “As ready as I’ll ever fucking be. I’m just ready to get this whole thing over with.”
Slapping him on the shoulder, I lied through my gritted teeth, “It’s going to be great. I’m really excited for you and Marsheila.”
With a mouth full of cherries, he called me out on my bullshit right away. “You fucking hate her. You’re not fooling anyone.”
Gasping dramatically, I grabbed my chest. “When have I ever said anything of the sort?” I enunciated every word loudly.
“Come on, dude, you know I’m right. How about every fucking time you’ve been drunk since the day I told you I was going to ask Marsheila to marry me? It’s been nonstop slurs of ‘You’re making a huge mistake, man. Don’t do it, dude. That old ball and chain is going to ruin your fucking life.’” He was right—I had been a complete dick and totally unsupportive.
“Me? No, I would never.” I flashed a quick smirk, but it was met with a tight-lipped glare—I was pushing too many buttons, that was for fucking sure. “What kind of best friend would I be if I didn’t question the biggest decision of your life?”
Finally, Gavin started to loosen up. “A crappy one, I guess, but still, we’re a week away. I think we both know this is going to happen.”
I threw up my hands. “You’re right. I was only looking out for your best interest. If that’s marrying the Wicked Witch of the West, then by all means, be my guest.”
“You barely even know her.” He slammed his empty glass down. “Bar temptress, another.”
She pushed her short black pixie-style hair away from her face with the back of her hand, giving both of us the stink eye. “You know I cannot stand it when you call me that, Gavin.” Jordan could be one sassy bitch, and I fucking loved her for it.
She started to make Gavin another Manhattan, giving us a coy smile. “Oh come on, Jordan, you know I’m just messing with you,” Gavin remarked as he took the drink from one of our best friends.
“You haven’t changed one bit since high school. You’re still the same pompous jerkoff you’ve always been,” she teased.
“Yes, and that’s why you love me.” He blew her a kiss, and I laughed at their banter. It was just the distraction I needed from the shit-storm of a day I’d had.
Jordan grabbed her stomach as she let out a deep laugh, slapping her tiny hand on the counter. “In your fucking dreams, Gavin. In your fucking dreams.”
For a few seconds, I was brought back to when we were little kids and met for the first time.
“Mom? Can I…” I started to ask my mom if I was allowed to go play with Gavin as she nodded and bobbed on the couch. She was having another one of her episodes from her medication. Even at my young age, I could see the signs and knew that even asking was pointless—she wouldn’t remember or be able to respond. I just kissed her on the forehead like always and made my way into the kitchen.
I scribbled a note on the yellow pad that was magnetized to the refrigerator in the best handwriting I could muster, hoping that my mom would see it when she woke up from her nap and not worry about me.
Playing with Gavin. Be back for dinner.
“Can Gavin out and come play?” I asked Mrs. Hayes as she opened their giant front door.
After flashing me a kind smile, she called up the stairs, “Gavin, Sean is here. Come on down.”
Gavin trotted down the steps, leaping from the last one all the way to the door. “See ya later, Ma,” he called back as we both started running for our bikes in the driveway.
“Be home before dark,” Mrs. Hayes hollered before shutting the door behind her.
“Fine!” Gavin answered.
“Bet I can beat you to the end of the block,” I challenged Gavin as we started to ride down the sidewalk.
“You’re on!” he yelled as his legs started to pedal at lightning speed.
We raced down the sidewalk until we had to come to a screeching halt. There was a little girl coloring with chalk on the cement, and she screamed as our tires got too close for comfort to her masterpiece—a disproportioned rainbow missing the orange layer with a goofy-looking smiling sun pe
eking through some clouds.
“Don’t mess it up!” she ordered, leaping to her feet, hands on her hips.
Red-faced, Gavin jumped off his bike. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t color in our way!”
“Who do you think you are, the president or something? You can’t tell me what to do!” She whipped her long, dark ponytail around as she put her right index finger right in Gavin’s face.
“How about you race with us?” I asked. Even as an elementary school-er, I was a peacekeeper; it was just in my nature.
“Yeah, okay.” She shrugged, rushing to grab her purple bike from the grass.
“What’d you do that for?” Gavin asked as he shoved me.
I hopped back on my bike. “It’s better than picking on a little girl. You’d get in so much trouble if she squealed.”
Gavin knew I had a point, and from that day forward, the three of us were thick as thieves.
“Sean, how was work today?” Jordan started cleaning up the bar, our cue that it was getting close to time to get the heck out of Dodge.
I just slouched back in my seat—I hated that damn question. “It was a fucking day of it, to say the least.”
I tried to be forthcoming with them, as much as I could be. I’d tell them the funny shit people said to try to get out of tickets or the crazy crap that happened when we got calls for domestics, but I usually didn’t share the darker side of my job and I sure as hell was not going to tell them about the accident I witness earlier on in the day. I had no idea how to put that into words.
Off Duty (Shots On Goal Standalone Book 6) Page 1