For You

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For You Page 32

by Kristen Ashley


  “All right, got something more for you, Sully,” Colt said, his fingers giving Feb a squeeze in an effort to give her strength before she heard what was going to come out of his mouth. “You need to give this to the Feds and their profilers. Guy’s more whacked than we thought. He thinks he’s me.”

  Colt heard both mother and daughter suck in breath but he only felt Feb’s body get tight against his so he gave her another squeeze.

  “He tell you that?”

  “Identified himself as Lieutenant Alexander Colton.” He heard Feb’s whispered “Oh my God,” but kept on talking. “Got jacked up when I called him Denny. Says he’s the police and he’s doin’ all this to keep her safe.”

  “Jesus.”

  “Also said there were two more. I reckon he thinks one is me, the other…” he let that trail when Feb’s head dropped to his shoulder.

  “They didn’t get time to triangulate the signal on the phone,” Sully told him.

  “Bad news.”

  “They’re now monitorin’ her phone, yours, your house phone and the bar.”

  Too little too late but who would imagine that fucking guy would actually call. Stupid move, he was getting messy and that could mean bad things, though it could also mean good and Colt went with his last thought.

  “We need to be in his face about this shit?” Colt asked. “Press a reaction?”

  “I’m gonna get in his face,” Jackie whispered her threat and Colt couldn’t help it, he smiled into his phone. Jackie got a hold of him, hatchet or not, Denny Lowe didn’t stand a chance. A lioness was lethal when her cubs were under threat.

  “Well, unless he gets close and starts watchin’ with his own eyes, that’ll be difficult,” Sully said. “They dismantled the cameras, all of them, even the one on the street. I’m learnin’ the Feds do not fuck around and somehow they got an army to throw at this shit. Warren says taking the cameras offline is their own way of pressin’ a reaction, pissin’ him off, forcin’ a move.”

  That was unfortunate. Colt liked the idea of standing in his open front door and kissing Feb good-bye before he went about his day. He’d take his time, he’d make it thorough, he’d get that moan in his mouth and he’d put his hands on her ass. He’d drive Denny Lowe over the next bend as Colt forced him to watch Colt stake claim to what was his, what Denny almost succeeded in taking away from him and what Colt got back. The man had a single synapse firing correctly in his brain, Colt wanted to obliterate it.

  “Keep me posted,” Colt told Sully.

  “One other thing, man,” Sully said hurriedly, “Feds want you to consider protective custody, for you and Feb.”

  Colt didn’t like it, for him or Feb, meant her being pent up and him being disempowered, but he’d sure as fuck consider it.

  “We’ll talk, I’ll let you know.”

  “Later, Colt.”

  “Later.”

  Colt flipped his phone shut and Feb lifted her head, opening her mouth to speak.

  “One second, baby,” he muttered on another squeeze at her hip.

  He scrolled down his phone, found the number he was looking for, hit the button and put it to his ear.

  “‘Lo?” Chip said after ring four. Colt had woken him.

  “Chip, it’s Colt, sorry to wake you but this is urgent.”

  “Everything okay?” Chip asked, trying to shake the sleep from his voice.

  “I know it’s late and I know your schedule’s busy, but I need you to bump your other customers for a priority job, first thing in the mornin’.”

  “What job?”

  “My house and I want a recon of J&J’s. You think you need to, I want you to up the security there.”

  “This have to do with all the shit I been hearin’?” Chip asked.

  “Exactly that.”

  “You and Feb safe?”

  “Not by a long shot.”

  Chip didn’t hesitate when he said, “Be there at seven.”

  “Later.”

  He flipped his phone shut and looked at Jackie then at Feb.

  Feb was stuck in time, Colt knew it when she asked, “He thinks he’s you?”

  “He’s whacked.”

  “I know that, but he thinks he’s you?”

  Colt smiled, he couldn’t help it, her face was hilarious. His choices were either to smile, laugh or get up and put his fist through a wall.

  “Okay, Feb, he’s seriously whacked.”

  “Got that right,” Jackie put in on a mumble.

  He didn’t want them to dwell, either of them, which meant shutting this down. You didn’t talk about this shit in the dead of night when the demons could attack because you were vulnerable. You talked about this shit in the light of day when you had your defenses up and your mind could fight back.

  “Time for bed,” Colt announced, curling to get up and taking Feb with him.

  “I couldn’t sleep, no way I could sleep,” Feb said, sliding both her arms around him when they got to their feet.

  He looked down at her and smiled again. “All right, honey, then you can watch me doin’ it.”

  Her head jerked, the cloud over her face cleared, she was fighting back the demons, just as her brows drew together and she said, “Okay, you’re right, no more sharing. I give you the ammunition I’ll never hear the end of it.”

  He curled his arms around her and gave her a squeeze, the smile never leaving his face. “You know I’m teasin’, baby.”

  “I know and I like it now about as much as I liked it when I was eight and you and Morrie chased me around, waving frogs at me.”

  That memory was so hilarious; Feb screaming like a lunatic and running so fast her hair flew out straight behind her, Colt felt the memory simmer inside him and he couldn’t stop himself from bursting out laughing. Jackie felt it too because she did the same.

  “My girl, always hated frogs,” Jackie stated when she’d controlled her hilarity.

  “That’s right, Mom,” Feb leveled her irate eyes at her mother, “I’m a girl therefore I hate frogs. I’d get kicked out of the girl club if I didn’t. Ask Maisie, she’s got the rules memorized.”

  Jackie laughed again before her eyes moved to Colt. “February. Always been a scaredy cat. Can’t even watch scary movies.”

  “Oh Lord,” Feb mumbled.

  “Gotta say, Jackie, it’s probably good my woman can hold her shit together when a psycho is on the loose. Thinkin’ that’s more important than her bein’ able to watch Freddie Krueger invading high school kids’ dreams in a movie.”

  “Oh no,” Feb whispered, her brows had separated but her eyes were now wide, “now I’m thinkin’ about Freddie Krueger.”

  Colt gave her another squeeze. “I’ll keep you safe, honey.”

  “You can’t!” she snapped. “He gets to you in your dreams!”

  There it was again, it hit his gut like a rocket and Colt couldn’t stop from laughing so hard he couldn’t hold his head up doing it so he bent his neck and shoved his face in her neck.

  If someone had told Colt anytime during that day he’d laugh or smile or do them more than once, he’d have told you that you were fucking crazy.

  But there it was. Owens magic.

  Feb thought he was golden? He couldn’t say he didn’t like that she thought that.

  But she and her mother were something else, something that glimmered far brighter than gold. Something that made you believe there was a God but he didn’t make miracles. He created beings and gave them the power to make miracles, miracles both great and small.

  Chapter Nine

  Cheryl

  The door bell jolted Colt awake. He looked to the clock, saw it was five to seven and slid out from under the dead weight of Feb that was pressed to his side.

  Yanking on his jeans, t-shirt and grabbing his gun, he hit the hall then the living room and looked out the peephole to see Chip Judd standing on his front step.

  He’d unlocked the door when Jack hit the room, his hair a mess, his jeans on, hi
s chest bare and his hand curled around the butt of his revolver.

  “It’s Chip, Jack. It’s cool, I called him.”

  “Chip?” Jack asked.

  “Go back to bed, it’s all good.”

  Jack studied him with sleepy intensity for several seconds before he spoke.

  “Don’t know what’s good, you callin’ the only boy in town who installs security systems and him bein’ here first thing in the mornin’,” Jack stated the obvious on a grumble then headed back down the hall, muttering, “fuck.”

  Colt turned back to the door and opened it, nodding to Chip and stepping aside for him to enter but his eyes scanned the neighborhood. Chip’s van was parked on the street, no Audi in sight, no other movement. Street was waking up, half an hour it’d be alive, people heading to work. An hour after that, it would be napping again.

  He closed the door, locked it and turned to Chip. Chip had his eyes on the lock Colt turned and then they came to Colt.

  “You’re standin’ there holdin’ a gun, big man, and you still turn the lock?”

  “Man out there’s hacking up people with a hatchet, he threatened me direct and Feb could turn his eye to her. Not leavin’ the door open to that possibility, Chip.”

  Chip’s face had drained to the color of his hair, which was nearly as white as an albino, before he muttered, “Fuckin’ hell.”

  “Damn straight, now what can you do for me?” Colt asked.

  Chip recovered his composure, dipped his head to the door and said, “First thing, get you a decent deadbolt. My experience? Two kinds of cops. Those with families who got so many damned locks their house is like Fort Knox and their wives got scoliosis from carryin’ around their keyring. Those without who don’t spend enough time home to give a crap. You’re obviously Cop Type Two. Gotta tell you Colt, that lock’s a piece of shit.”

  Colt couldn’t argue. His lock wasn’t near as bad as Feb’s but it was still a piece of shit.

  “Put it in and a chain, all the doors. There’s one at the side, one at the back. I’ll need five sets of keys,” Colt told him, Chip nodded and Colt went on. “What else?”

  “We talkin’ the basic model, the basic deluxe or the full-on deluxe?” Chip asked.

  Security systems cost some cake, Colt knew, and this would be a hit. It was only six months ago he finished the last payment on Melanie’s kitchen. Other than that he studiously kept out of debt and saved as much as he could so when he quit the department his life could be a fair bit sweeter than a cop’s pension would buy him. He took a financial hit when Melanie left, she had a job and two incomes made their lives a fuckuva lot easier. Further, he let her clean out the house when she left. She let him keep both the house and the boat they bought together. Fair trade, to Colt’s way of thinking, she got a job across the city and wasn’t staying in town so she didn’t need the house and he cared about that boat a whole lot more than any couch. Except, he had to dip into savings to furnish his house when she was gone.

  Now he intended, soon as he could, to buy a bike. Jack had taught both Morrie and him how to ride years ago and both of them always liked doing it, so much, every once in awhile Colt would rent a Harley and they’d spend the weekend riding.

  But now he knew February felt free on the back of a bike and Colt wanted to give her that feeling as often as he could.

  A security system would cut into that intention.

  Then again, when this shit was over, he also intended to have a talk with Feb. A lot of the way she lived her life was going to change. Her living in a studio void of personality was one of them. Her spending a lot of time in his kitchen cooking him breakfast was another.

  “Deluxe,” he told Chip and he knew by Chip’s response that Chip read his face while he was thinking.

  “Good call, Colt,” Chip said. “I’ll give equipment to you wholesale and discount the labor.”

  Colt shook his head and said, “No need.”

  Chip gave him a look then he laughed, loud and long and Colt could do nothing but watch because he thought his friend might have a screw loose.

  “What?” he asked when Chip stopped laughing.

  “Colt, my man, you called me at two in the mornin’. You think you didn’t wake Josie with that shit?”

  Oh fuck.

  Chip’s wife, Josie Judd, had been a friend of Feb, Jessie and Mimi’s back in the day. She still was. Josie Judd was everyone’s friend, sliding in and out of cliques like she was greased with shortening. Josie was a pleaser but it wasn’t that. The woman was pathologically social.

  Chip kept talking. “She heard me say Feb’s name and pestered me the minute I hung up the phone. She and her sister have been peckin’ over you and Feb for donkey’s years. Swear to God, they been drinkin’ so much coffee and dreamin’ up so many scenarios the last week, you’d think their brains would frazzle. They reckon this is a romance novel come alive. This bein’ about you and Feb, I don’t give you deluxe and discount it, she finds out I charged you regular, she’d have my balls.”

  Josie might be social and a people pleaser but she was also a ball buster, known throughout the town for all of the above. Colt reckoned the men in that town had a case to make Chip a saint the way he put up with Josie’s energy, the endless round of parties she gave and dragged him to, all the times she said “yes” when Chip would end up doing all the work and the whip she used liberally on him.

  Then again, the woman wasn’t hard to look at, got her figure back within months after each of their three kids and Chip let it slip regularly that she gave world class head, liked doing it and did it often. He could have been full of shit, telling his tale so as not to appear weak but Colt didn’t see it that way. Chip smiled a lot and was one of the most mellow, adjusted people Colt had ever met. Getting great head from a woman who looked like Josie who was talented with her mouth could do that for a man. Colt figured, his own life wasn’t totally fucked, he’d be about as mellow and adjusted as Chip right now and he was looking forward to that time.

  But now he didn’t have time to argue about what he’d pay and he wanted the system in without delay.

  “All right, Chip, you do it discount, I’ll get Feb to make you a frittata,” Colt told him.

  Chip whistled through his teeth. “Heard about her frittatas, big man.” His brows went up. “You tellin’ me you already earned one?”

  Colt didn’t respond and didn’t have to, Chip grinned.

  “Legend,” Chip muttered before he said, “Got the keys to the bar? I’ll swing by there, give it a look. It’s been around awhile, Dad put it in and I wasn’t on that job, probably could use some updating. Then I’ll round up the boys and come back here.”

  Colt went to his keyring, slid off the keys, gave them to Chip and told him the alarm code.

  He opened the door and Chip hesitated in it. “Know I don’t have to tell you this but keep her safe. Would suck, you two finally bein’ back together only for one of you to end up hacked up with a hatchet.”

  “Yeah,” was the only response Colt could come up with for that understatement.

  Chip looked over his shoulder, his gaze hitting Feb’s purse on the coffee table, before he again caught Colt’s eye and he said low, “Pleased for you, Colt.”

  Then he took off.

  Colt locked up after him and headed back to his room. It was likely the Feds found and raided Denny’s spying on Feb lair and he wanted to get to the Station to see what came of it.

  He hit the room and saw Feb still asleep. He fell asleep before her so he didn’t know when she finally dozed off. Still, he went to the bed, sat on the edge and pulled her hair off her neck before he put his hand to her hip, gave her a squeeze and bent to kiss her exposed neck. Then he touched his tongue to the chains tangled there.

  She moved, he lifted his head and saw her open her eyes.

  “You can go back to sleep, baby, just wanted you to know I’m gonna get a shower and head into the Station. Your Dad’s here.”

  “Dad asle
ep?”

  Colt reckoned he was and nodded.

  “Mm,” she murmured and lifted up to a hand.

  “Feb, honey, go back to sleep.”

  “In a minute,” she whispered, her hands coming to him, one arm wrapping around his back, the other hand sliding down his crotch over his jeans.

  Her intention clear, it killed him when he had to say, “Baby, gotta get to the Station.”

  Her face disappeared into his neck, her lips sliding up it and at his ear, her hand cupping his crotch, she said, “Lay back, Alec.”

  “Baby.”

  He felt her tongue touch his earlobe then he felt his cock start to grow hard and then he heard her whisper in his ear, “I want you in my mouth, Colt.”

  Colt figured he had a lot of work to do to erase the loneliness Feb had felt the last two decades of her life.

  He might as well start now.

  * * * * *

  Colt was feeling unsurprisingly mellow and adjusted when he hit the bullpen at the Station.

  However considering the state of things, unfortunately for him this feeling wouldn’t last long.

  He saw Jo from dispatch heading toward the front stairs.

  “Colt,” she called when she’d stopped and turned to him, “just put a message on your desk. They got a boy in interrogation room two. The Feds just started workin’ him. Sully’s watchin’ and wants you with him, minute you get in.”

  “What boy?” Colt asked.

  “Denny Lowe’s eyes on the prize boy,” Jo answered.

  Colt nodded, uncertain if he felt elation or dread and headed straight to the soundproof room next to interrogation two. He entered and saw Sully, Chris and Rodman watching through the one-way mirror as the profiler Nowakowski and Warren worked a young, skinny, mop-haired, pimple-faced, terrified-looking kid.

  They all glanced at Colt when he entered but only Sully kept his eyes on him.

  “Got him, Colt. Denny’s officially fucked,” Sully told him.

  “Write down the email address you send the files to, Ryan, right here,” Nowakowski’s voice came through the speaker.

 

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