I moaned.
“This one,” I said. “If it was hot. It’d be the one.”
“You gonna finish your chocolate milk?” he asked.
I pushed the half-empty bottle toward him. “That was my second bottle anyway. I don’t think I can physically fit anything else in my stomach right now.”
He took a small swig and went back to eating his cookie.
He ate it in three large bites.
“You need another one,” I said as I watched him brush crumbs free of his shirt.
That was when I was drawn to the tattoo on his arm.
It was a picture of a woman with a book in front of her face. Her eyes peeking over the edge of the book as she looked out.
The woman had short, flowing gray hair that floated around her in a messy halo. And purple eyes.
She had a book in front of her that only showed an illustration on it. Not a name.
“What book did you choose?” I asked curiously, tapping just to the side of the book. Not actually touching the new tattoo, but close.
“I didn’t,” he said. “I didn’t know what book I wanted to put there. Couldn’t remember the title. So, I just put something generic there. I’m sure the book will change tomorrow.”
I frowned, wondering what he meant by that.
But before I could answer, he looked at his phone and grimaced.
“What?” I asked.
“SWAT call,” he answered. “Nothing I can do about it, though, being all the way over here. Hopefully they don’t need me.”
My eyes widened slightly. “I sure hope so, seeing as you’re hours away.”
He grinned and gestured at my empty plate. “You ready?”
I nodded, my eyes once again going to his arm.
The new tattoo was beautiful, and it looked familiar somehow. But since I could only see the upper face and eyes, I couldn’t quite place it.
“Thank you for the cookies, Marnie!” I called as I gathered my trash.
She came out of the back with a wave, a stack of cookies in her hand that she walked over to the display case.
“Come back to see us!” she said. “It was very nice meeting you. You, too, Bourne!”
With that goodbye, we left.
I spotted Bourne’s big black truck almost immediately.
And then I spotted the cop at the curb writing him a ticket.
“You’re getting a ticket,” I told him.
“Actually, not yet,” he said as he glanced at the watch on his wrist. The one that rode on the inner pulse of his wrist, and not the outside. “I still have five minutes on the meter.”
We got to the truck and Bourne opened it up for me.
I jumped inside and looked over to the meter to see that he was right.
There were now four minutes left on the meter.
And the cop was glaring at Bourne as he moved around the front of the vehicle.
Bourne got in, started the truck up, and deftly pulled out into traffic without giving the cop a second glance.
“That was close,” I said.
“Guy was a wannabe,” he muttered. “Too stupid to do anything but write tickets, so the city put him out here doing just that because the fuckin’ timer on the meters tells him when to write it.”
I blinked at him.
“Tell me how you really feel,” I teased.
He shrugged. “Saw him walking all up and down the street today. Went out twice to feed the meter, and each time that I did, he’d stomp off all pissy because he didn’t get to write one. That’s not cool. That’s a bitch move.”
I snorted and fidgeted in the seat next to him, thinking hard about the words that he’d said to me that morning.
Had it just been a few hours ago?
I mean, it felt like a lifetime ago that he’d said the words.
I’d talked myself around and around all day today.
“I’m not going to be hungry for a while,” I murmured softly. “I think that I want to go run around all those downtown shops for a bit until I am… is that okay?”
He shrugged and pulled over at the nearest street, once again parking where he’d have to feed the meter.
“I don’t see us being any more than an hour,” I said. “The shops close at six.”
He pulled out a stack of change from his glove box and shoved the roll of quarters into his pocket after pulling five off the top.
“Lead the way, my fair lady,” Bourne drawled in his deep voice.
It sent shivers down my spine.
Grinning, I reached for his hand.
The fact that he didn’t hesitate in giving it to me spoke volumes.
“Come on.”
***
Two hours later, and after feeding the meter two more times, we finally made our way to the truck.
My hands were full of bags, as were one of Bourne’s.
He was carrying twice the amount as I was, but he’d transferred it all into one hand to keep his gun hand free.
He hadn’t exactly been open about why he was keeping the hand free, but I knew.
Bourne always kept his hand free, even when he was holding mine.
I always held his left hand, never his right.
Not that I was complaining.
Two days ago, I wouldn’t have gotten any hands to hold.
“You hungry yet?” he asked curiously.
I nodded my head. “I’m thinking chicken wings. Is that okay with you?”
He gave me a look that clearly said I was off my rocker if I thought that wasn’t okay with him.
“I’m pretty sure all men like chicken wings,” he told me teasingly.
I grinned.
I thought about what he said and realized that was likely true.
There was always a plethora of men at my favorite wing joint in town.
“Chicken wings are my favorite,” I told him. “The hotter the better.”
He raised his brow at me. “Like how hot?”
“Like burn your mouth, you have to take a drink of milk between bites hot,” I told him. “I’m excited, because I’ve heard that Austin has one of the best chicken wing joints in the state.”
We passed an alley, and since it was getting dark, I didn’t see what was waiting down it as we passed.
We were a few feet past it when I heard the scuffle of shoes.
Bourne had already heard them, though.
It took him two seconds to figure out what was going to happen. To my more like thirty seconds.
I was just swinging around, bags in hand, when Bourne had the first attacker on the ground.
Bourne caught the second one before he could make a run for it, catching him around the ankle and yanking him backwards while he put his knee into the first guy’s back.
I gasped at the show of strength, blinking fiercely.
“Wow,” I said.
“Hey!”
I looked backwards to see Bourne’s ‘rent-a-cop’ dude from earlier barreling down on us.
“Oh, shit,” I said, moving over slightly so that Bourne could get the guy on the ground without the cop seeing.
He did right around the time the cop shouted at us not to move.
Thank God he didn’t have a gun, or he might very well have shot Bourne just because he looked suspicious.
“Let me see your hands!” the cop ordered loudly, waving his ticket book around as if he was going to brandish it as a weapon.
He depressed the button on his radio and started shouting that he needed backup.
I looked over at Bourne to see him whispering to the two men that were now lying deathly still.
“Don’t. Move.”
Those two words came out of Bourne’s mouth, and I couldn’t help the small smile that lit my face.
“Let me see your hands!” the cop yelled again.
I held mine up, bags and all, which only helped block Bourne all the more.
<
br /> “Move!” he ordered.
I moved, this time revealing Bourne who was sitting on the ground, his elbows on his knees, while he raised his hands lazily.
“What do you think you’re doing? On the ground. Face on the concrete,” he ordered, pointing at Bourne.
Bourne started to do as requested just as an officer rolled up in his patrol car.
He took in the scene at a fast glance, looking at the two goons on the ground, Bourne who was about to lie onto the ground, and me.
“Marty,” the man said that took in the scene. “Do you know who that is?”
Marty the ticket writer shook his head. “He’s the guy that I saw beating those other two guys up.”
I snorted.
“He wasn’t.” I crossed my arms over my chest tightly, the bags bumping against my thighs as I did.
“He didn’t,” the new cop said, looking at Bourne, the bags spread all over the ground, and the two guys that were too scared to run away in fear that Bourne would retaliate like he said he would.
Though, that was only a guess on my part. I had no idea what he’d actually said to the two.
“I saw it with my own eyes,” Marty tried.
“What in the fuck is going on here?”
A third cop rode up on scene, this one in a police cruiser that was an SUV, but unmarked other than the lights overhead and the special license plate.
Marty the dumbass stiffened slightly at the newcomer.
“What the fuck is Bourne Pena doing on the ground?” the new man asked with a deceptively calm tone.
Marty opened his mouth to tell him what he’d already explained to the second cop when the newcomer came over and offered Bourne his hand.
Bourne took it, hauled himself up off the ground, and grinned.
“Officer Arroyo,” Bourne drawled.
The newcomer, Officer Arroyo, rolled his eyes.
“Fuck off,” he said. “What the hell are you doing on the ground?” he asked, then kicked the two men that were lying there. “And what the fuck did these two do to you?”
That was when I placed the name.
Arroyo.
Angel Arroyo, sergeant for the Austin Police Department. Married to one of Bourne’s sisters.
Daniella, I thought, but I wasn’t one hundred percent sure.
“How’s my sister doing?” Bourne asked. “I was going to call her to come see me tomorrow.”
“She’s on bed rest, idiot,” Angel Arroyo said. “She can’t come see you. But she would love for you to come see her. And make sure you bring her those cookies she likes. She’ll cry all over you for a change instead of me.”
I hadn’t heard that she was on bed rest. But it wasn’t often that Bourne or Booth talked to me about their sister.
I got most of my insider information from Asa or Priscilla.
“I know, man. I know,” Bourne said. “And I already have a date with her and the bed tomorrow while my girl gets her meetings done. Then we’ll be at your house for dinner. Apparently your bed is big enough to house us all.”
Angel shook his head. “It’s really not. And I hate when people eat in my bed. I hate sleeping on crumbs.”
“Too bad.” Bourne clapped Angel on the shoulder. “Now, these two need arrested. They tried to jump me and my girl.”
Angel looked at the second officer to arrive on scene.
“Adelle, go get these two fuckwits in your cruiser.” He turned to Marty. “Leave.”
Marty left without another word.
I felt my lips twitch as I looked between the two men.
“Since when do you have a girl?” Angel finally looked at me and froze. “Ummm.”
I knew he knew who I was then.
“Yes, I’m Asa’s mother,” I said. “And yes, Booth is seeing my sister, Dillan.”
Angel just shook his head. “Glad that it’s y’all having to deal with that shit and not me. Daniella is going to shit the baby out when she hears this tomorrow.”
“She already knows,” Bourne said. “She made me tell her yesterday when I called to confirm.”
I grinned.
I’d always liked Daniella.
She was the most motherly of the Pena gang.
Which wasn’t a surprise when she got married at eighteen and knocked up by her older man at nineteen.
Though, Angel was a good man.
I knew that.
Bourne and Booth hadn’t liked him at first, but apparently, they’d gotten over their animosity.
“These your bags?” Angel asked, picking them up.
I turned around and grabbed one of my shoes that’d escaped the box.
It was a sparkly gold pair of Converse.
I couldn’t wait to wear them.
“They’re hers,” Bourne confirmed. “I was just a packhorse.”
“They’re lucky you didn’t shoot them.” Angel shook his head. “Thank God. I wanted to get home on time tonight.”
Chuckling, Bourne took my shoes, the rest of the bags, and then gestured toward the truck. “Thanks, Angel. See you tomorrow, amigo.”
After a quick look at me, Angel nodded his head and then left.
The crowd had dispersed, leaving the two of us standing there in the middle of the crosswalk.
“I don’t think he likes me,” I admitted.
Bourne shrugged, as if the thought of Angel not liking me didn’t matter to him.
“Angel is weird,” he admitted as he walked the last couple of yards to the truck. “He’ll get over it.”
I rolled my eyes at his answer.
“And what if he continues to hate me for the rest of his life?” I asked.
“Then my sister will never get to see my kids.”
Chapter 7
Sometimes I think I’m too picky, then I watch my dog search for a place to poop.
-Delanie’s secret thoughts
Delanie
Then my sister will never get to see my kids.
After those words had left Bourne’s mouth last night, we’d gone back to the hotel, only stopping on the way to pick up an assortment of wings and a couple of salads from the wings place just down the road from where we were staying.
After eating, I’d taken a shower and called home to talk to Asa. Who’d been in a surprisingly good mood despite ‘having to go to school tomorrow and take a spelling test.’
After hanging up with him, I’d fallen asleep while Bourne had taken his shower.
Which, quite frankly, was dumb of me.
I’d missed his shower that morning, and I’d missed it again that evening.
All because I’d been sleeping both times.
When I’d woken up that morning, it was to find Bourne gone. Again having to meet at the Austin police department to pick some things up for the SWAT team.
He’d left a note, though.
After reading the note, I’d decided to call my sister, and that had turned into a rather awful experience, leaving me frantically calling Booth because of my sister being attacked while we were on the phone.
It was only after assuring that she was all right that I’d finally found the time to head to my own appointments for the day.
My fingers brushed the note that I had in my pocket. The one that Bourne had left for me this morning before everything had gone crazy.
One that was sort of sweet in a simplistic kind of way.
Had to go to APD. Have a good day. B.
Smiling, I continued to listen to the governor speak about nothing.
Literally, nothing.
He’d been talking to me and a few of his closest advisors for an hour, and still I hadn’t found anything important in what he was saying.
Yesterday, at least, we’d spoken about the dogs and my journey when it came to starting my business.
Today? Today I’d yet to hear anything that pertained to me.
I was starting to get annoyed.
Getting tired of what I was hearing, and needing a bathroom break anyway, I quietly got up and walked out of the office, being sure to grab my purse as I went.
It was close enough to lunch that I could likely slip out and make my way to the deli across the road from the office I was currently in. Maybe when I came back, he’d have something to say that pertained to me.
I was so lost in my own thoughts that I didn’t notice the man that fell into step beside me until I pressed the elevator button and realized there was someone standing beside me.
I jumped.
“Oh!” I gave the man a smile. “Hello, Angel.”
Angel nodded his head and waited patiently for the doors to open.
I took the man in as we waited.
He was dressed in his uniform, just like last night. Today, however, I could see that last night he had a cool confidence that one only gets where they’re comfortable being. Here, though? He looked like he was itching to be out of the place he was—kind of like me.
The doors slid open, and I stepped on first, turning once I got to the back of the elevator.
Angel got on, turned, but stayed near the front with his back toward me.
“Why don’t you like me?” I asked. “Is it because of Asa?”
He frowned and looked at me over his shoulder. “No.”
“Then why?” I asked. “I don’t even know you, yet you’ve practically ignored me two times now. And I’m having dinner at your house tonight, and it’s incredibly uncomfortable to think about going over there when it’s very clear that you don’t care for me.”
Angel snorted. “It’s not that I don’t care for you.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and waited for him to expound on his answer, yet he didn’t.
I rolled my eyes, thinking that tonight Bourne may just be on his own when it came to visiting his sister and brother-in-law.
The doors finally opened and I followed Angel out, ignoring him completely when he held the door open for me to exit.
I did, looked both ways, and then continued on across the street. All of a sudden pissed as hell about everything.
My role here. Bourne leaving today without telling me. My dad, who’d called me five times over the last couple of hours. And my sister, who apparently was having some trouble that she thought she could keep from me.
Join the Club (SWAT Generation 2.0 Book 7) Page 10