“When you’re done with him, my hair could use a bit of maintenance too,” Bradley says.
My dad laughs, then heads off with his mirror and spit-covered hand. “Some days I regret my life decisions. I remind myself that when I was three and I saw my father in his uniform, I thought he was the coolest person ever because he beat bad guys and solved crimes and saved people. I wanted to be just like him. And now I regret it all.”
Bradley laughs. “I don’t know—I kind of like your hair like that.”
“Oh? You do?” I ask as I lean forward.
He shakes his head. “So… earlier I talked about that board game thing… Would you be interested in joining me tomorrow night?” he asks.
“Yes!” He could have asked me if I’d join him sky diving, and I would’ve been just as quick to answer.
He smiles. “Okay, great. I’m also getting the oil changed on my motorcycle tomorrow. So I’ll have to drop that back off at home first, since I’m sure you don’t want to ride on that, and then I’ll pick you up.”
“I do want to ride on it.”
He looks surprised. “Oh? You like motorcycles?”
What am I saying? “I love them.” I do? “I’ve always wanted to ride on one.” I have? I mean, it’s not like I hate them, but since when did I suddenly love them? And enough to ride on one? Oh, but the way he’s smiling has me prepared to tell him anything he wants to hear.
“Well, that actually saves me a lot of time. How about dinner first? I’ll swing by at about five fifteen and pick you up?”
Tomorrow is going to be the best day of my life.
Chapter Five
While I should be at home preparing to meet with Bradley tomorrow, I’m not. What I would need to prepare for, I’m not sure. I mean, he asked me out to play board games with his friends, not off for some elaborate plan.
But the real question is why I’m sitting in the parking lot of Ace’s Wild after work when I should have gone straight home. I’m just here to browse a bit. We were in here this morning and it looked like a very interesting place, so I’m just going to check it out. It’s the least I can do after Ace and Wilder were so willing to help. Supporting local business and all.
I’m such a liar.
I had changed into regular clothes, so when I walk through the front door I don’t stand out. I duck behind the first shelf and make a beeline straight for the books, and it’s in that moment that I realize I’m not here to browse at all.
“Need help with anything?” a woman asks, and I’m glad Ace and Wilder aren’t here to notice my return.
“No, thank you,” I say before turning my attention to the shelf. I don’t even pretend to pick up the other titles—I instantly snatch up the black-bound book and pull it free.
The How-To Guide for BDSM Dungeons.
Huh.
I… did not expect that.
I mean, not that people who enjoy BDSM appear or act a certain way. I just… guess I didn’t know that he was involved in it. But how could I have?
Is this what he’s into? Clearly, or he wouldn’t have bought a book on it. While I know what BDSM stands for and can visualize a bit of it, I know nothing else about it. I flip open the book and glance at one of the pictures before snapping it closed because I’m nervous someone will see me awkwardly standing here, slack-jawed as I stare at… things.
I decide that I would prefer to stare at it in the privacy of my own home and quickly head to the counter. The woman rings me up, puts it in a black bag, and sends me on my way.
As I walk out to my car, I wonder at what point does it turn from me just being interested in the guy to creepy? I don’t want to be a creep… but it doesn’t hurt to know what he’s into, right? It would be like someone saying they like flowers, so you buy a book on flowers to get to know more about what they’re into. But the book with flowers is actually about sex and not vanilla sex but like… different… kinkier sex with… what? Whips? Chains? I don’t even know.
But I will.
I’m gonna read the shit out of this book.
Or maybe just look at the pictures and watch some porn because I really don’t like reading all that much. I wonder if it’s on audio…
***
As I walk into the office, I see Bradley in a whole new light. It’s probably because, instead of just reading the book, I watched some porn that was way kinkier than most. Probably far beyond the realm of BDSM, but I just fell into a rabbit hole and I couldn’t get out.
And now I’m wondering if he’s a Dom or a sub. Or if he has to be one. Or if he can switch. Or if he doesn’t have to be either. And then I’m realizing that I really should have read the freaking book because porn rarely portrays real relationships.
Whatever he is, I’m willing to try it. Not just because it’s something he’s into but because I’ve always been up for anything. I’ve just never had a partner who wanted anything more than plain ol’ sex. A little thrusting, a few moans, and finish.
But if Bradley is asking, I don’t care what he’d like to do—I’m interested in trying and I’m more than sure I’ll enjoy it. As long as it doesn’t hurt too much.
Or at all.
Okay, I’m a bit of a wuss, but I’m pretty sure he’s a decent guy who would only go as far as I wanted.
I wonder if he’d like spanking? But not the painful kind. It always seemed like something that could add a little spice to sex. Does that even count as BDSM?
I really should have read the book.
When Bradley sees me, he walks over to me and smiles. “Morning.”
“Good morning.”
“How was your night?” he asks.
I feel like I should hint that I’m also interested in BDSM. Maybe that’ll get his attention. “Good! Was just looking up the different types of bondage restraints.” That was not a fucking hint.
His eyebrows reach for the sky. “Oh? Like… are you planning on tying something up?” he asks.
“I don’t know; are you volunteering?” I ask.
He starts laughing. “You’re hilarious. I don’t know why we didn’t hang out sooner. Anyway, I’m going to grab some coffee and then I wanted to talk about a few things pertaining to the case. Did you want a cup?”
“Yes, please,” I say, while questioning my sanity.
Since I have to drop off something in the main office area and my father’s office isn’t too far away, I head inside and shut the door.
Dad looks up from his computer. “What’d you do now?”
“I told Bradley I was looking up bondage.”
Dad beams at me. Clearly, he’s a proud parent. “You are so awful at flirting. It’s clear why you’re single.”
“I know, right? Like I’m a smart man.”
Dad shrugs. “Eh.”
I pretend like my father doesn’t think I’m dumb. “But when he’s around I have no filter.”
“Please don’t make him quit. I really like him,” Dad says.
“I’ll try not to, but he invited me out tonight on his motorcycle.”
“You’re going to ride on a motorcycle? Do you remember how scared you were going down the street on a bicycle?”
“It was a mountain.”
“It was barely a hill.”
“This is different. Wish me luck.”
“Take all the luck—you’ll clearly need it,” Dad says. “Go find a horse and steal its shoes.”
“I’m not sure… that’s how you get luck.”
“Of course it is,” he says.
I shake my head and go to find Bradley, who has pulled a chair next to his. I sit down on it before realizing that I probably should have moved the chair over a little since I’m so close I might as well be sitting on his lap.
“Nothing’s really lining up with this case,” Bradley says.
“At this point, we can assume that Jamal knows who attacked him. So he’s trying to cover for someone, but why? When you called his work, did they tell you what time he was supposed to b
e in?” I ask.
“Let me check but I think it was ten,” he says as he double-checks his notes. “Yeah, ten.”
“Would the bus even run that late? I know some of the buses closer to the campus run pretty late, but would they run that late out where they’re at?”
“I don’t know. And say he was beat up before ten, because it would’ve been before he went to work—he just lay in that alleyway for over twelve hours and no one noticed him? So what’s he hiding?”
“Or who is he protecting?” I ask.
“That is the question. Let’s see if he’s feeling a little better and is willing to talk,” Bradley suggests.
I let Bradley handle talking to Jamal while I reach over him and grab his mouse so I can figure out the bus schedule. It gives me the perfect opportunity to invade his personal space. He scoots back a little but not enough to keep me from leaning into him. It’s probably because his phone is from the early days of technology and still has a cord, so he can’t escape me. But I call it a win.
He hangs up and turns to me, which doesn’t take much because I’m practically spilling onto his lap at this point. Why I’m leaning so far, I’m not sure. Why I didn’t go back to my desk, I’m also not sure, but I’m here at this point so I’m just going for it. I make sure to arch my back a little as my shoulder brushes into him. I want to at least look sexy while doing it.
“So Tanner answered. He said Jamal told him he already explained everything to us that he can remember, but when I told Tanner we really need to do this to help Jamal, he talked Jamal into meeting with us. So we’ll head over there in a few minutes and see if we can get anything else. Do you need me to move?”
“Nah, I’m good,” I say as I try to look up from under my eyelashes.
“You don’t look comfortable. You know it’s a laptop, so you can slide it. It’s not even hooked up to the power cord,” he says as he does so. “I mean, I’m not complaining, but it looked a bit painful.”
I straighten up as my phone buzzes. I pull it out of my pocket and look at a picture my dad sent me. It’s of me leaning into Bradley while looking absolutely ridiculous. There is nothing sexy about my position at all. It’s surprising Bradley wasn’t borderline terrified.
Dad: Teach me your moves, oh god of flirting.
Me: Go do real work. Never mind. Don’t. I want you to get fired.
Dad: Our coffee machine is still broken so you’re not getting rid of me any time soon.
Me: Tell them I’ll buy you guys a new one just to keep you from coming over here.
“Did you figure out a bus time?” My eyes jerk up from my phone, and I quickly put it away.
“I did. The buses stop running at nine. Still later than I thought, but it doesn’t match up,” I say.
“Hmm… so just another thing that doesn’t add up. Let’s get going and hope for the best,” he says as he grabs his coffee and heads toward the door, so I follow after him. “I’m kind of jealous of Officer Peters. I want a badass police dog,” he says as we pass the K9 unit vehicle.
“Looks like you’re just stuck with me.”
He glances over at me and grins. “Does that mean you’ll wear a collar and let me lead you around?”
“Eh. Sure. Won’t be the weirdest thing I’ve done, so I’m up for it,” I say.
He starts laughing and I find that I love the sound of it.
Then I start laughing as well while making a mental note that he’s into collars. That means he’s probably the dominant one, right? I’m so glad I bought that book yesterday and made my own assumptions about everything just by only looking at the pictures.
When we reach the car, I get into it and buckle my seatbelt.
“You’re still good for tonight?” he asks as he pulls out of the parking lot.
“Of course.”
“Great. Some of my friends couldn’t make it, so it’ll only be another couple and us after supper. That way you won’t have to deal with a big group. Where do you want to eat?”
“I’m honestly good with anything.”
“Since we don’t have a ton of time, how about a pizza place or something?”
“That sounds good,” I say, overly excited about seeing him tonight.
When we arrive at Jamal and Tanner’s house, Tanner answers the door with a weak smile, but he looks a little more composed than yesterday.
“Good morning,” I say.
“Morning. Jamal’s in here.” He leads us back to the living room where Jamal is sitting on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket. He looks a little better as well, but his face is swollen and bruised.
“I’ll get you guys chairs,” Tanner says as he rushes into the kitchen.
“How are you doing today?” Bradley asks.
Jamal looks up. “Fine. I have a headache, but I’m fine. I really did tell you everything yesterday.”
“That’s okay. We just have a few more questions to ask,” Bradley says with a gentle smile. “We’d prefer to talk to you guys separately.” Tanner arrives with two chairs at that point and nods.
“Oh… yeah, I can go upstairs or… something?”
“This is why we wanted to talk at the station, but we understand,” Bradley says. “So upstairs will be good enough.”
We take a seat once we have our recording devices set up and Tanner has gone upstairs.
I try to catch Jamal’s eyes, but he’s doing his best to pretend we’re not here. “Alright, I know you told us everything yesterday, but you were going through a lot and you might have missed some details. Can you start from the top and go through it again?” I ask.
He averts his eyes but nods. “Okay…” And then he basically tells us the same tale as the day before. His car wouldn’t start, he ran after the bus, four guys pulled him into the alley, they took his wallet, and he doesn’t remember anything else.
“Why did you leave the car door open?” Bradley asks.
“I was in a hurry. I saw the bus, since it goes right past our house, and I ran after it. I couldn’t be late to work again. I was already late once this month.”
“Why were you late?” I ask.
He picks at a string on his blanket. “I overslept.”
“So you were worried you’d get in trouble for two late days?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
It’s clear that he really wants us to leave. He’s completely closed off and isn’t willing to speak with us. I think he might be even more closed off than yesterday.
Bradley gives him a gentle look. “So the bus goes by your house as you were struggling to get the car started. So then what did you do?”
“I ran after it.”
“And these four guys grabbed you when you were running?” I ask.
“Yeah… I don’t know. It happened so fast. Why are you guys getting on me?” he asks, voice rising. “You’re acting like I’m the one who did something wrong. I was the one who was attacked.”
I lean forward and give him a soft smile. “Jamal, we do not believe you’re at fault here. We believe that you were severely hurt and what happened to you was awful. That’s why we want to make sure we find the people who did this to you and make sure they can never do it again. If it was a premeditated attack, they could strike again. And we want to make sure we keep you as safe as we can. But the only way for us to do that is for you to speak the truth.”
“I am!” he says, voice rising even more.
But he isn’t.
I look over at Bradley, who catches my eyes. Then he turns to Jamal again. “Jamal… things aren’t adding up. For one, the bus stops running at nine, so I’m not quite sure why you were running to the bus stop.”
He turns his body from us, closing himself off even more. “Maybe the bus was running late, I don’t know! I never made it! Maybe it wasn’t even the right bus. I never saw it stop. I’d been attacked by that point. I don’t know! Okay? I don’t remember what happened!”
He’s getting worked up and shutting down even further, so I know that
we aren’t going to get much more out of him if we keep pressing him at this point.
“What we want most right now is for you to start feeling better. We’ll leave our phone number and if you think of something else, let us know right away. We’re here to help you and make sure it doesn’t happen again, alright?” I say, voice as gentle and caring as I can make it.
“Okay,” Jamal says, relaxing a little.
We finish up speaking with Jamal and then question Tanner, but he knows even less than Jamal. According to him there had been no arguments, nothing bad had happened. He was convinced Jamal was robbed and was surprised we thought it was anything else.
“Walk us out to our car?” I ask Tanner.
He hesitates but nods.
“Tanner, it seems like Jamal opens up to you more than the rest of us. There’s a possibility that whoever did this knows Jamal and Jamal is trying to cover for them. We really want to help him and make sure something like this never happens again. If you can get him to open up, let us know,” Bradley says.
“You… you really think someone he knows did this? I mean… but… he doesn’t get wrapped up in any bad shit. I don’t know why you’d think someone he knows would do this. They mugged him for his wallet.”
“We’re not pointing fingers, Tanner. Just keep it in mind. If you need us for anything, call.”
He looks really concerned, and I wonder just how close they are. “Okay… thank you.”
We walk back to the car and get inside. It’s definitely not unheard of for victims to keep quiet, even when pressed further. But it just makes me more and more positive that it’s someone he knew who did this to him.
“Sometimes I just want to plead with them that they don’t have to protect the person who did this, you know?” Bradley says. “I wish I could prove to them that there are better people out there that can care for them and love them, and they don’t have to deal with this shit.”
Rushing In Page 4