Clusterf*@k (Life Sucks Book 4)

by Elise Faber

  And then he saw another shadow emerge, just behind Carter.

  “Dad?” he breathed.

  A nod and then he came over and knelt to cut Chance’s restraints. “Misty.”

  For a second, he thought that meant Misty was in danger, and his heart seized. Then he looked into his dad’s eyes and realized it was the answer to the question he hadn’t voiced earlier. Misty was how they were there.

  “Let’s move,” Carter said as their dad sliced through the rope at Chance’s waist.

  Chance didn’t need to be told twice. He stood, shoved off the rope, and stood. Pins and needles, stiff as fuck, but he got his shit together and followed Carter when he started to lead them out of the building, his dad bringing up the rear.

  Quiet.

  Too quiet as they ran across the parking lot, following Carter and putting distance between them and the warehouse.

  And he knew why he felt that way when the moment they hit the parking lot, footsteps exploded in front of them, spotlights flaring to life and blinding him, and then people—no, officers and agents—swarmed into the building. He froze for a second, but his dad shoved him forward. “Move.”

  Gunshots rang out.

  Voices kept yelling.

  His dad pushed him until he cleared the other side of a vehicle—his vehicle, he realized as they rounded the SUV.

  “Fuck, kid,” he muttered, throwing an arm around Chance and yanking him close. “You scared the shit out of me.”

  “I scared the shit out of me,” he said, enduring the hug and smothering his wince. “How?”

  “Misty was worried, called the detective from her case. He started tracking you down, since she didn’t have specifics. He got the ping on your cell back about the time that Misty broke into your computer, found this address, and called Carter and me.”

  Chance’s brows rose.

  Carter shrugged. “I was here first, talked to the units—” The noise behind them faded. “They were tracking the movements inside, watching them load up the trucks, and wanted to make sure all parties were caught, but didn’t know where you were. We all did recon, we spotted you, and Dad showed up. Got you. They were ready to go in.” Another shrug, this time paired with a jerk of his chin behind them. “They went in.”

  Chance glanced behind them, saw Bobby in his wingtips being wrestled out, Rolf handcuffed behind him.

  “Thanks to your little sleeping act,” Carter said, “and nice one, by the way, I watched you fool them through the windows up top. The bad guys stayed around, and we were able to catch them moving the product.”

  At that point, the detective Chance had worked with came up, bulletproof vest strapped on, and was shoving his gun into his holster. “I think you went above and beyond closing this case for us,” Ron said, shaking his hand. His gaze apparently took in Chance’s wrists, which were sore as fuck and crusty with blood. “Need a medic?”

  Chance shook his head. “I’m good. Want to take my statement so I can get the fuck out of here?”

  He needed to get home, needed to call Misty.

  Needed some real fucking sleep.

  “On it.”

  Chance gave his statement, learned that his SUV, phone, and wallet would be evidence for a few more days. Great.

  Then he got in his brother’s car.

  Carter’s because he didn’t want to deal with the lecture that his dad was going to give him, namely that he should always have a backup for this kind of work, or at least let someone know where he was going.

  All of which were right.

  None of which he wanted to hear in that moment.

  “Should I just tell Dad I gave you the lecture?” Carter asked.

  “That would be preferred,” Chance muttered.

  “Backup, yeah?”

  Fuck.

  “Yeah.”

  The silence stretched then, “Want a partner?”

  Chance sighed. “I get the checking in and needing backup, Carter. I won’t fuck up like this again.”

  His brother turned on to the freeway heading toward Stoneybrook. “That’s not what I meant.” His fingers clenched on the steering wheel. “I’m getting out. I’m done with the bureaucracy and bullshit. I’m tired of taking cases I have to, and I want to work on those I’m interested in. So”—he glanced at Chance—“I’m seriously asking if you want a partner.”

  Work with his brother?

  He considered that. “You going to move to Stoneybrook or close?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Anika, too?” A long-distance (even if that distance was just about an hour) would be a tough sell for what he knew of his brother’s woman. Beautiful, but needy, and with a hint of selfish. She hadn’t once made the drive to Stoneybrook to meet the family, even though they’d been dating six months and Carter came almost once a week.

  A beat then, “Anika and I are done.”

  That wasn’t exactly a surprise, but Chance couldn’t say he was broken up about it. He wanted Carter to find the same thing he had.

  “So, partner?” Chance asked when Carter’s tone made it clear he didn’t want to discuss Anika any further.

  Carter shrugged. “Why not?”

  That was a good question. Carter certainly had the skills, was smart, that wasn’t in doubt. But, “You sure you want to work for me? You know I’m small-time, right? It’s not like I’m doing the big takedowns like the FBI.”

  “Tonight wasn’t a big takedown?”

  Well, he had a point.

  “Okay, but I’m just saying, the department took care of it. Yeah, I do the drug cases, but I also occasionally do cheating and tracking down family members. It’s definitely not all gunfights and kidnappings.”

  Carter glanced at him. “I’m not all that down with gunfights or kidnappings, especially if they involve my brother.”

  Well, damn, he had another point.

  “Who’s in charge?” Chance asked.

  “You are.” No hesitation. “You built it. You’re just letting me ride on your coattails.”

  Chance laughed. “Works for me. But I’m good with partners.”

  “I bet you’d be better with Underling, Overlord.”

  More laughter.

  Then Chance’s laughter cut off as he remembered where he was, what had happened, and what Misty had done. Fuck, he was sitting there chitchatting, and his woman was worried at home. “Can I use your phone?”

  A nod to the cupholder where his phone sat.

  He unlocked the screen, dialed Misty, and—

  “Carter?” Her voice was frantic.

  “Hi, Cloudless.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Fine, baby.”

  “I love you,” she breathed.

  “I love you, too.”

  His brother stilled but didn’t comment, just drove in silence, his eyes on the road, though Chance sensed his smile.

  Her breath slid out on a long exhale. Then that voice went sharp. “What the fuck were you thinking not telling anyone where you were going? I’ve been freaking out all day and—”

  “Baby.”

  “—and your mom is worried and—”

  “Baby.”

  “I woke up and you weren’t there—”

  Her voice broke.

  Shit.

  “Misty, baby. I’m sorry. I promise it won’t happen again. I’ll take backup and make sure someone always knows where I am, and you won’t wake up without knowing where I am again. I swear to you.”

  Her breaths still came rapidly, but she’d stopped yelling.

  “Okay?” he said. “I promise. And Carter is going to work with me so that we can watch each other’s backs, and all will be good.”

  Silence.

  Then, “Okay.”

  “I’ll be home soon.”

  “I’m at your parents’ house.”

  “All right, I’ll be there soon. Okay?”

  A deep breath. “Okay.”

  “Love you.”

  “Love you, t
oo.”

  He hung up, put the phone back in the cupholder.

  Carter was quiet for a long time.

  Then he said, “Why do I feel like that was worse for you than being on the receiving end of Dad’s lecture?”

  Chance laughed. “Because it was.”

  “Good thing your Underling’s got your back.”

  “I think I’m going to get a plaque with Overlord on it.”

  Carter chuckled. “I’ll order you one myself.”

  “Consider the Underling one I’ll be getting you your signing bonus.”

  They busted up.

  And the shittiest night of his life ended up not being so bad.

  27

  Tissues Times Two

  Misty

  “You were out of contact for nearly twenty-four hours!” she snapped when Chance tried again to make light of what had happened.

  He had bruises on his wrists, and the bruises had cuts, and his ankles were just as bad.

  And that didn’t include his black eye, his split lip, and the cautious way he moved that spoke of bruised ribs.

  “What?” he asked, brows drawing together. “Twenty-four—?”

  “Yes, my love,” she said—or rather still snapped, “this is not you being a few hours late. This is you being twenty-four hours late.”

  They were back at her house, cuddled up in her bed after she’d slapped about a dozen bandages on various parts of his body, and she was just holding on to him and trying not to freak out.

  “I’m fine, Cloudless.”

  “You fussed over me, Chance, so I’m fussing over you.”

  He smoothed back her hair. “You were a bad patient. You hardly tolerated the fussing at all.”

  “Newsflash, so are you. As in, you’re not tolerating it at all.”

  “Because there’s nothing to fuss about.”

  “You were kidnapped,” she pointed out.

  “I didn’t get hit with a baseball bat,” he countered.

  “No,” she muttered, “just with someone’s fist. Repeatedly.”

  He cupped her cheek. “Should we talk about something else?”

  “Are you going to tolerate my fussing?”

  “No.”

  An inhale. An exhale. “Chance.”

  “Okay, you allowed me two days of fussing after getting knocked out and earning a broken wrist”—she snorted at the thought of “earning a broken wrist”—“so my getting knocked out and sitting on my ass for twenty-four hours means I’ll allow you…”

  “Four—” she began.

  “Hours,” he finished.

  Her mouth fell open.

  “What?”

  He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “And look, your four hours were up…two minutes ago.”

  She glared.

  Chance smiled.

  She kept glaring.

  Chance bent and brushed his lips across hers. “I’m fine, baby. I promise.”

  “You know I was freaked the fuck out. Worried out of my mind when you didn’t come back. When I couldn’t get ahold of you and no one else could either.”

  He froze, his face going serious. “Cloudless,” he murmured. “I—”

  Misty cupped his jaw. “I’m only telling you this because I got how you felt,” she whispered. “When you told me about how you felt after your dad was hurt, how it felt like the foundation of everything had been shaken.”

  “Shit, baby, I—”

  “No,” she said, “I’m not looking for you to apologize, or say anything, or feel guilty. I just—I understood how you felt, and I finally got the uncertainty with your job, that it could be dangerous, and I might lose you and—”

  “It’s too much.”

  “No, honey.”

  “I can take cases that aren’t—”

  She frowned, sat up, tugging him up with her. “No, honey. What you’re doing is important, and I think what happened to me illustrates that life happens. It can be dangerous; we could lose people we care about in the blink of an eye.” A breath, cupping his jaw again. “What I’m trying to tell you is that even though I was freaked, and I wish I’d called your brother and dad sooner—which I’ll do if, God forbid, you turn up missing again—” She narrowed her eyes, warning him without words to not get kidnapped again. Then figured what the hell, she’d warn him aloud, too. “And I’m telling you right now, that better not happen.”

  “Baby,” he said, covering her hands with his.

  “I love you. I was worried. I was panicked. I didn’t know what the hell I should be doing,” she murmured, “and never once did I even consider that you wouldn’t be walking through the front door of Tangled or into my house or up the driveway of your parents’. Don’t you see? I knew you’d come back to me. I knew you’d do anything in your power to get right here, so much so that I never even considered the possibility otherwise.”

  His lips parted.

  She went on, “So I’m so freaking glad I ran into your car and that you asked me out in front of everyone. I’m so glad that we beat Pirate’s Booty and you love my cupcakes. I’m glad you’re letting me pick out paint colors for your office and you didn’t hesitate to move into my house, even though we’re still arguing about who’s going to pay the bills.”

  Now his lips began to curve.

  “I’ll worry,” she said. “I know I will. But I also trust you to keep your word,” she added when his face fell again. “You told me you’re going to make some changes so it’s safe, and I believe you. Because you promised to not hurt me again, and you haven’t. You promised to call, and you did. You promised to care for me, and you have. And most importantly, you promised to love me, and you have in every single way I could have ever hoped for.” Her eyes stung; her voice dropped to a whisper. “And that’s all I need, baby. I trust you. I trust what you tell me. Because you’ve proven that I can over and over again.”

  “Fuck.”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “You’re supposed to be the crier.”

  And then she saw. The tears in the corners of his eyes, gathering on his lashes. “Chance,” she said softly.

  He reached for her, pulled her close. “I never thought it would be worth it, worth the risk of putting my heart out there. But only because I had no fucking idea it could ever feel like this.” He leaned back enough to meet her eyes. “It’s so big, so wonderful. I swear I should be floating in the sky like I’m strapped to a thousand helium balloons because what I feel for you is everything. Every. Fucking. Thing. This”—he slapped a hand to his chest, just above his heart—“beats for you. It was like the first moment I laid eyes on you I knew, knew that I would never be the same, and it felt so right, I couldn’t even think about running from it. I could only stand there and let it come for me. Because you are the fucking love of my life, and I will never ever let you go.”

  “Chance.”

  His hands were gentle as they smoothed over her skin.

  “I think I’m going to cry now,” she whispered.

  He grinned then pulled her close. “Lay it on me, Cloudless.”

  So she did.

  And just like she knew he would, he took all those tears and was unfazed.

  And when she was done, left with swollen eyes and a stuffy nose, he produced a box of tissues from somewhere.

  Because…he was Chance.

  Because…he had her.

  And because she had him, too…she wiped his eyes first.

  Epilogue

  Cupcake

  Chance, Two Months Later

  “No,” he snapped, smacking Carter’s hand away. “These aren’t for you.”

  “Dude,” his brother growled, going back and reaching right for the cupcake he couldn’t fucking have. “I haven’t gotten any yet, and—”

  “These aren’t for you.”

  And he tried to communicate what that meant, since his brother fucking knew that he was trying to propose to Misty that evening, along with every other member of his family, i
ncluding Rob, who hadn’t been happy about the rapid speed of their relationship until Chance reminded Rob that he hadn’t exactly moved slow with his own sister.

  Now, his eyes were wide, his lips pressed flat as he tried to warn Carter off.

  But it was Soph who saved the day, mainly because she hissed, “Hey, dumbass, the ring is in there.”

  “The—” Carter’s mouth fell open. “Oh, shit.”

  “Exactly,” she said, but her eyes were amused as she smoothed a hand over her rounded stomach. His niece or nephew was growing like crazy, but Chance was less worried about that at the moment and more concerned about whether Misty had heard the bit about the ring. Which Soph seemed to get, saying, “Mom has her covered out back. Asking about a pattern for a baby blanket.”

  Chance relaxed.

  Because if anyone got Misty talking about knitting, she’d be there for hours.

  She had been out there for hours.

  It was the first time they’d hosted a Jackson Family dinner at Misty’s house—well, his and Misty’s house since he was now on the mortgage and paying for half of the bills (and that had only taken him a dozen arguments…and even more orgasms, but he’d persevered). His family knew the score. Misty’s friends knew the score (and yes, they were family now, too). They’d all been cool. They’d all played it relaxed and like it was any other dinner.

  But…they were getting antsy.

  Case in point Sophie asking, “Ready?” and pairing that with a deliberate look to the back deck.

  “No,” he muttered, suddenly realizing this was a dumb idea.

  He didn’t want to do this in front of their family. Fuck, everyone had already had an opinion about where to put the ring, when he should do it.

  And for the record, it was his dad’s idea for the ring in the cupcake—and he’d even gotten a little plastic container for Chance to shove up through the bottom—hence the plate of wrapper-free cupcakes that Carter wasn’t allowed to touch.

  Also, Soph had decided at sunset—which was definitely a romantic time of day but also meant he’d had to wait and worry about his proposal for hours.

  And everyone had an opinion on what he should say.

  Opinions he’d ignored.