Hart & Stocker

by Max Ellendale

  Dax lowered to one knee, steadied herself, with controlled breathing to match. I had no idea what she aimed at, until I saw a small black flag flapping on the top of the tallest hay bale. One shot blasted, and I flinched. When I looked again, nothing remained of the flag except a splinter of its pole.

  Only when she set all of the weapons down did I approach her in the area.

  "Hey," I called out ahead of myself as to not spook her. She swung around, her expression tense for a moment with her hand on her service weapon until she saw me.

  "Willa." She seemed to breathe out my name. I couldn't remember her ever saying my name so purposefully before. "Be careful."

  "I waited until you were unarmed. And I sort of hid behind a tree just in case," I said as I let myself into the gate. Shotgun shells and casings littered the area as if she collected them like little trophies to the targets she'd taken out.

  "Good thing. I'm trigger happy." She waved to the mess at our feet. When the wind blew her hair from her face, I found myself staring at her and cleared my throat. "C'mere."

  "What?" I started, my whole body tensing.

  "Come here. Let me show you how to shoot." She lifted a hunting rifle from the ground and held it to me.

  "Girl, do you know me at all?" I snatched it from her after closing the distance between us. "My daddy taught me to shoot when I was twelve."

  A hearty laugh left her and she nearly beamed. "I don't know you at all."

  "Yeah well, here's some schooling." I cocked the gun, held it against my shoulder and positioned my feet shoulder width for balance. Steadied breathing, keen aim at her holey man target, and I squeezed the trigger. The weapon fired, jolting me with expected recoil, and I hit the target right in the shoulder. "Not my best work."

  "That's impressive," she said, her voice excessively close to my ear. The sudden awareness of how close she was to me had me paying attention to the heat of her body near my elbow.

  I lowered the weapon, gulped, and glanced over my shoulder at her. "Thanks."

  "Ever shot a handgun?"

  "A few times."

  "Wanna?" She grinned as if it was the most exciting proposition in the world.

  "Yeah." I chuckled, as I set the rifle on the hard case beside the sniper weapon.

  Dax bent down and pulled a smaller gun from her ankle holster. She checked the safety before handing it to me. "You can't fire my service weapon, but this one is mine."

  "Do you always carry a gun?"

  "Pretty much," she said, watching me as I palmed the weapon, keeping the barrel directed away from us. The weight of it settled in my hand.

  "Do you sleep with one?" I lifted the gun, gripping it primarily with my right hand, and using my left as support.

  "I do." She shifted her weight behind me, and grabbed hold of my elbows. "It's different than a rifle. Your feet are good, but bend your knees a little and lean forward slightly." She pressed her palm on the center of my back. "The recoil is different."

  I stuttered a few vowels before blurting, "Okay."

  "Firmer." Her arms wrapped around me and she stroked the top of my forearms. I nearly died from the way her body wrapped around me. "Grip the gun a little tighter." I listened to her, but my hands trembled when I squeezed. Maybe from my grip, maybe because of how she held me. "A little less so that you're not shaking."

  "Okay." I took a deep breath.

  She checked my hands and I saw her nod from the corner of my eye. "Ready?"

  "No…"

  A soft chuckle escaped her and Dax's shy, withdrawn demeanor was all but gone at that point. "Okay. Let's fire the first shot together."

  "Yeah." I gulped, nodding as she moved around me again. Her arms wrapped my body and her hands cradled mine.

  "Ready?" She flicked off the safety, then guided my index finger over the trigger. She spoke softly against my ear and I nodded. "Three, two, one."

  We squeezed together and the recoil surprised me, though her support held me in place. The bullet hit the corner of the torso on the target and I felt her smile against my cheek.

  "Pretty good."

  "Yeah." My voice was barely a whisper as I relaxed my arms, and found myself leaning into the warmth of her.

  A surge of emotion strangled my throat, and I feared moving or accidentally touching her in a way she didn't want me to. With her arms still around mine, holding on to my hands, I noted she still wore my bracelet.

  Dax lowered our arms, the gun aimed at the ground as she slid sideways against me. One hand remained on the gun, the other dropped from my arms to snake around my middle. Both of us fell into silence. I remained frozen, my heart pounding in my ears. I couldn't see Dax, though as if in slow motion, she shifted her weight, and I felt her rest her chin on my shoulder.

  In the quiet, under the orange and yellow glow of the setting sun, she held me for a moment. The sound of my breathing, quick and sharp, lingered in the air around us. She brushed her lips over my shoulder at the same time that she forced my hands lower, gently prying the gun away. The click of the safety echoed off the trees and open space. A gust of evening wind rustled the leaves, and I turned my head slightly, if only to tell her that I noticed.

  I noticed how she held me, and the hidden gesture on my shoulder. She tucked the gun in the back of her pants, and my hands fell to my sides. Just when I thought she was about to move away, both of her arms snaked around me again, and she held me in such a firm grip that it brought a wave of tears to my eyes. I wanted so badly to hug her back, to let her know that I welcomed her touch and her presence in my life.

  As quickly as it came, she released me, and moved away to pack up her weapons. I swiped at my eyes, blinking away the tears as I crouched down to help her lay the rifles in the hard cases. We didn't speak or look at each other when we each lifted one, and our silent trek back to her house left us walking side by side.

  Together, we checked on Carol and the goats in the barn, where Esteban tucked them in for the night. Once inside, she showed me where she kept her gun safe, bolted to the floor in the bedroom, and we stored away all of her weapons save for her side arm. It remained at her hip as always.

  In the living room, I sat on her sofa, watching as she disappeared to the kitchen. The sound of cat food tumbling into Rudy's ceramic bowl filled the quiet space, until I heard the sound of her coffee brewer. A couple minutes after, she returned to the living room, and handed me a cup.

  "Thanks."

  "In the mood for something harder?" she asked, sipping her coffee after sitting on the cushion next to me. Both of us sat with one knee bent so that we faced each other.

  "Not yet." I brought the mug to my lips and sipped the hot liquid.

  "Take your shirt off," she said without an ounce of warning.

  "Um...what?" I lowered the coffee to my lap and stared at her. Had I heard that correctly?

  "Take off your shirt."

  "For real or are you kidding?"

  "For real. Take it off." She motioned between us.

  "Dax, if we're...if I'm…"

  "Let me look at you. I want to look at you," she said, her voice softening at the end.

  As before, she confused me. Probably more than anyone ever had. I set the coffee mug on the table and watched her as she stared at me. Part of me didn't want to do this, because I wanted so badly to do it, and I knew the ending could leave me cold and disappointed.

  My heart pounded, my palms grew clammy, and I gave in. One at a time, I unfastened each button. Time seemed to move excruciatingly slow until I made it through each. I let my shirt hang open, and Dax's gaze fell to my breasts. She waited, expectantly, while I shrugged the shirt from my shoulders.

  "Why am I doing this?"

  "Because I asked." Her eyes flickered to mine. "Bra."

  "Dax…" My face burned with heat as I reached behind myself and unhooked my bra. I let it fall away, and fought the urge to cover myself.

  She said nothing, her voice fading as she stared at me. She set her co
ffee down beside mine, though her gaze never left my chest. To my surprise, she shifted forward, rolling onto her knees as she got closer to me. I lowered myself back into the pillows, gnawing on my bottom lip as I tried to hold on to my emotions. When I found myself horizontal on the sofa, Dax kneeled close to me, her thighs pressing into my hip. I gripped the cushions under me, squeezing the fabric in my fists as I held on to myself. My throat tightened and swallowing became a sticky venture.

  My breathing kicked up, but Dax appeared calmer as she palmed my breasts, her thumbs brushing my nipples. Her expression, smooth and satisfied it seemed, left me lost for what to do. I ached to return her touch, to join her in whatever she planned to do, at the same time that I feared her recoiling, and pulling away for good.

  One hand fell away, brushing over my abdomen in an exploratory caress. Her eyes, emerald green with vast, shimmering pupils, softened to match the pretty, sensual curves that belonged to the woman under the fear. My body burned with want, yearning to make her feel the way she made me feel with her tender touches, and protective posture.

  Her gaze flickered toward my navel, her hand following, and she popped the button of my jeans without a hitch. I sucked in my breath, and it drew her attention back to my face. I bit my tongue, striving to keep myself silent. Dax lowered herself down, her body pressing against my left side, and like before, no warning preceded the tongue she lashed over my pert nipple. I held my breath when her gaze met mine, and almost as suddenly, she snaked her hand down the front of my pants. Her fingers grazed my pussy and I nearly fainted from the rush.

  Her lips, rosy enough to match the flush that'd coated her skin, curved into a small smile as if my reaction pleased her.

  "You're very wet," she whispered, and I covered my face with my hands.

  My fingers found their way to my hair, and I gripped it in tight fists. "Dax. Friends don't do this."

  "I told you," she nearly growled, and her tentative touches down my panties delivered a purpose. "I don't want a friend."

  A strangled cry left me when she rubbed my clit in quick, sharp circles. My hips lifted toward her hand and I grabbed my own forearms, nails digging in. Dax's lips wrapped around my nipple and my mouth dropped open as pleasure lapped at my core. She urged me up a fast, deliciously painful slope toward an aching, deep climax. I held my breath as my body arched and the orgasm that broke me nearly ripped me in half. I covered my face, rocking toward her like a lust-driven siren that couldn't get enough.

  My breath left me in a violent puff before I gasped after. Dax slowed her movements, her fingers shifting from revolutions to gentle strokes over my soaked, silky core. I closed my eyes, allowing her to lull me from pleasure to afterglow, accompanied by a mild satisfaction that settled my psyche. I wasn't wrong about how I felt about Dax, and I wasn't wrong about the signals she sent me either.

  She slipped from my pants, her hand falling to rest on my stomach. I moved my hands from my face, allowing my arms to fall above my head to avoid touching her. Her body lifted in slow breaths beside me as she leaned on the sinking pillow of the sofa, gazing down at me. She met my gaze for a moment while her thumb stroked my belly in an affectionate rhythm. I didn't say anything, though concord in our connection seemed to find its place at last.

  Dax wasn't stiff above me anymore and she was, as I imagined she'd always been, a woman of soft presence. The same woman who stole seconds to cuddle baby goats, and cry over fallen puppies. One with a tender soul, and a heart so fragile that I feared a simple reciprocated touch would turn it to ash.

  "When I was twenty-eight, I started dating another cop who worked in a different division than me," she began, as if the energy between us brought her forth. "For a few months, everything was fine and normal it seemed. Until one day it wasn't." She paused, her eyes on my breasts again as if the sight of my innate femaleness soothed her.

  "What happened to you, Dax?" I implored, my tone soft as to not scare her.

  A glaze fell over her eyes, marring her shiny emeralds and turning them into shades of murky moss. "My mom lives in an exorbitant house in Seattle, and at that time, I lived in the guest house. After a few months, Josh nearly lived with me, but not officially. I came home late one night, as is the nature of a cop, and he was acting weird. Cold, mean. He said he'd ordered pizza and now it was cold because of me. He picked up the box off the counter to bring to the kitchen table and when I went to take it from him, he pushed it at me, running me backward until I slammed into the wall."

  The more she spoke, the harder it was to keep myself from trying to soothe her. Instead, I focused on my breathing, keeping myself cool and calm to allow her time to wax and wane in our energy space, and to trust that I wasn't going to scare easily.

  "The box crumbled, food went everywhere, and I had a bruise across my stomach the next day." She glanced toward the fireplace, growing quiet for a moment before continuing. "Everything was normal after that again, so I blew it off. People have bad days."

  "I can understand that," I said, keeping my voice soft. "Then what happened?"

  "A few weeks later, we got into a fight about something stupid. His work buddies wanted to go to a baseball game and I didn't want to because I had work the next morning. We shouted at each other, equally, and he shoved me. I shoved him right back and we broke into a full-on brawl in the middle of the living room. I fought him just as hard as he did me. Both of us knew how to fight, you know?"

  I nodded, watching her and the way her breathing increased slightly. "Cops are trained in self-defense."

  "Yeah. So again, it didn't seem beyond us." Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. "When we broke apart though and stopped fighting, he slapped me across the face when I was about to turn away." Her jaw set for a second. "He slapped me so hard that I fell. And I knew that things had changed." The hand she had on my stomach tensed. "I was a cop, Willa. A cop. How did I let this happen?"

  "You're also a human, Dax. Cop doesn't supersede human."

  "I know." The tension faded some. She shook her head. "From there, it got worse. He would yell at me for everything and the night I broke up with him, he gave me a black eye. I fought him back. I always did. When I went to work the next day with the excuse I'd gotten hurt during a line of duty scuffle, Captain Walsh made me see the department psychiatrist. Doctor Oliver saw right through me, and I told her what happened."

  "Did it make a difference?"

  Her lips pursed, her body tensed, and she shook her head. "It made it worse. He had disciplinary action at work, suspended and all that. But in his time off, he turned it on me."

  My heart raced, my stomach clenched, and I wanted to find this man and snip his balls off the way I did to animals at least once a week. "What did he do to you?"

  "Stalked me, showed up everywhere I went. I put CCTV cameras all over my house, alarms, outdoor sensors. Everything he did was recorded." She breathed in a slow breath. "I had a dog at my moms. A big, beautiful pitbull who was the kindest, most loving dog. We had her for ten years. One day, I came home from work and Josh was standing outside." Her legs began to move as if she grew restless and it took all the will I had not to reach for her. "He smiled at me when I ran up to him, shouting that he get away. This time, I was in work gear, and it always gave me confidence. I decked him in the face, and it set him off. We fought, and I screamed. He had a gun. He always did." She choked on her last word. "The dog came running, barking and attacked him while he kicked me. She tore out a hunk of his thigh. And…"

  "Okay, Dax. You don't have to say it." I held my hands up, palms toward her when she squirmed on the brink of panic.

  "He killed her, and he dragged me in the house. He kept me locked there for days at gunpoint. He took my gun. I tried to get away, to take his weapon. To get to one of my own hidden ones, but I couldn't." Her voice began to fade as she stared off into nothingness beside us, her entire body frozen with whatever memories plagued her. "No one looked for me except the doctor. She came out to the house, but he wouldn't le
t me answer the door. Eventually, a few days later, he ordered food and made me answer the door. The teenage girl who delivered must've called the cops when she left. I scared her or something." Her story began to crumble along with the details. Though she didn't say them, the way she moved, tensed, and twitched, told me she re-experienced whatever was going on.

  "You don't have to tell me any more, Dax. It's okay—"

  "My unit dispatched. My guys. They busted in and took Josh down, but he fought so hard with them. He dropped his gun." The pace of the story picked up with the pressure of her words. "I grabbed it. His service weapon that he'd used to terrorize me for days. When he broke away from the guys, he chased after me. I ran and they chased him. But when I fell, I saw him." Tears brimmed her eyes now, and anger, hot seeded anger, narrowed her brow and balled her fists. "When I saw his disgusting, evil face smiling as he came down on me, I shot him. I fucking shot him between the eyes just like he did to my dog. He died with his blood dripping into my mouth." She choked, and her nails dug into my stomach. "'Don't you ever fucking touch me again.'"

  Through her anger, she cried, and gasped as she recounted what happened to her. Tears of my own salted my cheeks and hair. I had no words the same way she hadn't as I imagined the terror and horror she experienced at the hands of that evil man. My ache to soothe her, to take away her pain riled against the restraints I had on myself.

  "I'm glad you killed him," I said, rage lacing my tones. "I'm glad he's dead for what he did to you."

  Her gaze shot to mine, and shock smoothed her brow as if she never expected to hear me say that.

  "I will never let anyone hurt you again." My lips trembled when I spat my declaration through clenched teeth. "No one will ever hurt you again."

  As if that broke whatever she had holding herself up, she sobbed and dropped her head down on my chest. Her fingers clawed at my stomach and she curled up in a fetal position against me. After a few slower breaths, she nodded faintly against me.