Bullet Proof (Love Undercover Book 4)

by LK Shaw

  Cute? It wasn't beautiful, but I'd take it. “I tend to ramble when I'm nervous."

  “I noticed." He let out a small chuckle.

  There was a short silence before I spoke up again. “I worried you weren’t going to call.”

  "Why would you think that?" he asked. It wasn't accusatory, merely curious.

  All the men in my life had slowly ripped away every bit of my confidence, beginning with my father. Warren had been a mistake, but one I'd overcome after a while. Jonas, on the other hand, had been harder to get over, because he hadn't just hurt me, he'd also hurt Maisie. But, Pablo? Something told me that he had the capability of completely and irrevocably shattering my heart. And I wasn't sure I'd be able to recover from that.

  "Where do I start? I'm a former stripper. I have a kid. How about the fact that there are so many more women closer to your age who have their shit together and who are doing more with their life than just getting by."

  Nothing like laying my flaws out there for him to see. I was sure there weren't two more different people than he and I.

  "You remember that Ines was a stripper for a short time, right? Why would I hold that against you?" Pablo seemed genuinely confused.

  "That was all for show, and she was only there for a couple months. I was there for almost three years. Do you know how many men saw me naked? How many men groped my ass or copped a quick feel of my tits? How many men I gave lap dances to?" The ugly truth wouldn't stop flowing from my mouth no matter how much I tried to hold it back.

  Was I trying to sabotage this whole thing before it even had a chance to get started? The longer he was quiet, the more it sank in that I'd said too much. I'd ruined everything.

  “I don't know your whole story," Pablo finally began. "Maybe one day you'll feel comfortable enough to share it with me. What I do know is this. You put yourself through school to give both you and your daughter a better life. It doesn't matter how you did it. You can't change the past. Nor can I. I wouldn't even want to, because your past is what made you who you are. And I happen to like who you are. A lot.”

  Through his entire speech my throat closed tighter and tighter and the tears began. For years I'd believed I was selfish for not giving Maisie up for adoption. To let people raise her who could give her a better life. Things I couldn't give her. What had I known about being a mother? I was a fucking kid. I had no idea how to take care of myself, let alone a baby. I'd done so many things wrong and felt like a failure.

  "Michele? You there?"

  “I'm here," I choked out. "Just a minute please."

  Moving the phone away, I grabbed some tissues, wiped my face, and blew my nose loudly. Finally, I felt composed enough to talk.

  “Meeting Ines and your whole family has been the best thing to ever happen to me. Which is kind of sad if you think about it."

  “I don't think it's sad at all. I think it means that you've been on your own long enough and now you don't have to be. It's a good thing. You have us. You have me." He paused. "If you want to, that is. If that means we're friends, then we're friends. I hope it becomes something more. No matter what happens, though, you’ll still have me."

  Hearing Pablo say that only made me want to cry more. “I'd like that very much."

  "Good, because I would too. I also meant what I said. Hopefully one day you'll share your story with me. I want to know everything about you. The good and the bad. You don't have to hide anything or shy away from sharing your past. I promise I won't judge you for any of it. You should be proud of everything you've done. You're an amazing woman.”

  "Thank you.” Taking a deep breath, I continued. “If the offer is still open, I'd really like to have that dinner with you."

  "Of course it's still open. When are you free?"

  "Let me check.” I leaned over and grabbed my pocket calendar from my backpack and flipped to the current page. "Is a weeknight or weekend better for you?"

  "Either one."

  "Okay, how about either Sunday or Tuesday if that's not too soon?"

  "Why don't you and Maisie come over on Sunday around six? That will give me time to run and get groceries. While I'm thinking about it, is there anything either of you don’t like? Or any allergies I need to worry about? I want to make sure to cook something you’ll both enjoy.”

  My heart skipped at Pablo’s thoughtfulness. He had a niece and nephew so he was probably used to kids being picky eaters.

  “I’ll eat anything. Maisie doesn't really have any dislikes. At least not from the food I've given her. To be honest though, we don’t have very sophisticated palates.” I laughed a little self-deprecatingly. We ate what I could afford and that wasn't usually anything fancy. If it was cheap, I bought it. Which meant we lived on a lot of processed and boxed foods.

  “I'll make sure to keep it simple. Nothing too fancy. I can't cook as well as my father can, but I can certainly hold my own. And if you guys liked the food we had at the birthday party then we should be safe with what I've come up with."

  “I'm looking forward to it. I'll admit I'm probably one of the worst cooks out there."

  "Well, I'll be happy to teach you a few simple recipes if you'd like. We can sample a few things and see what the two of you enjoy."

  “I'm sure whatever it is, it will be delicious."

  “I hope so. I have two women to try and impress so I better make it good."

  There went that fluttery feeling again.

  “I know you're trying to study so I won't keep you any longer. But I promise, I'm going to swing by tomorrow after you get home and check on you."

  "Okay, that sounds good.”

  “I’m sure she’s already asleep, but tell Maisie I wished her a good night, and I wish the same for you. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Goodnight,” I whispered.

  “Night.”

  I disconnected the call and held the phone close to my chest as though to keep Pablo closer to me a while longer. The things he said about me continued to ring in my head. Was I not giving myself enough credit for all the things I’ve accomplished? Maybe I needed to take a good hard look at my life and see all the positives instead of focusing on the negatives. Because he was right. What I’d done in the past was over. I was making something of myself. I worked hard and provided Maisie with everything she needed. We weren’t living on the streets anymore.

  Glancing around the apartment, I took everything in. It wasn’t a lot, but it was mine. Bought and paid for with my hard-earned money. A small sense of pride began to fill me. Maybe I was doing okay after all.

  Chapter 15

  An uneasy suspicion pulsed through me on the way to Michele's. I took another quick glance at the paper in my hand with her address written in pretty, flowing script just to confirm I was going to the right place. That feeling soon began to morph into pure, unadulterated rage the closer I got. It was possible I was jumping to conclusions, but my instincts were telling me I was right. My white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel tightened even further. I worried I’d break the thing, my anger was boiling so hot.

  People milled around the streets. Kids dashed around the fenced-in basketball court across from Michele’s building. I found a narrow parking spot a block down and maneuvered my car into the opening between a clunker with a trash bag covering the place where a side window should be and a tan sedan with a flat tire.

  Please be wrong. My stomach burned from the acid churning inside it. I passed a graffiti covered building, the colors exploding across the stucco surface. In large letters Los Lobos was prominently displayed with a gorgeous depiction of a howling wolf next to it.

  The sun peeked out from behind the solitary cloud in the sky, shining down to brighten the neighborhood, as though trying to showcase what the place could be instead of what it actually was. But no amount of sunshine could soften the darkness lurking in the shadows of hidden alleyways and inside the run-down buildings of Little Village. To outsiders, the neighborhood was a pestilence. A blight on this gre
at city of ours inhabited by drugs, gangs, and death. To the residents, it was home. Some by choice, others by circumstance.

  My eyes panned upward taking in the building in front of me. The door opened with ease, the security lock long broken. Just like everything else around here. It seemed it was all broken down in some way. I didn’t like the fact that this place was Michele’s best option, but I also understood she was doing what she could to get by.

  The stairs creaked under my feet, the sharp sound echoing around me. I paused on the landing of the fourth floor, debating whether to turn right or left. My eyes darted left down the far end of the hall, my gaze narrowing on the last door. My jaw ached from being clenched, and I wiggled it back and forth to ease the tension. The rational part of my brain told me to turn right. To cool off before I confronted the man behind the door at the end. But I didn't want Michele and her daughter to see the rage that most surely burned in my eyes.

  Decision made, my feet pounded on the worn carpet. With a heavy fist I rapped on the door of apartment 427. An apartment I’d recently been to. The barrier opened a crack, and I shoved it the rest of the way. I pushed past the slack-jawed man inside.

  “Close the door,” I bit out between clenched teeth.

  “What the fuck, Pablo?”

  “Close the goddamn door.”

  Oliver’s expression was full of confusion, but he did what I said. “Jesus, man, what’s your problem? You’re not supposed to be here.”

  It took everything I had not to punch him.

  “Stay the fuck away from her. Don’t talk to her. Don’t even fucking look at her.” I seethed with rage. I couldn’t believe a man I called friend was a goddamn creep.

  “Stay away from who?”

  “Michele.”

  He continued staring at me, completely oblivious. He didn’t even know her fucking name.

  I jammed my finger in the direction of her apartment. “The young woman you’ve been harassing since you moved in.” I ran my hands through my hair. “Jesus, Oliver. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  Finally, the confusion cleared, and he had the sense to look shame-faced. His gaze darted away from mine.

  “I didn’t mean anything by it. You know how I am. I flirt with all the women.” He tried blowing off his behavior.

  My disgust was evident in my sneer. “You don’t flirt, Oliver. You creep. Your shtick of this smarmy predator has to stop. It’s not attractive. You have this poor woman so scared that I’m here checking on her, because she thinks you might take your pathetic flirting game one step too far. You’re not only a grown man, but you're a fucking cop. You’re supposed to protect people, not terrify them.”

  “I didn’t realize you knew her.”

  God, he just didn’t get it. “It doesn’t matter if I know her or not. She’s a young, single mother living in a shitty neighborhood. She does not deserve having to put up with the bullshit you’ve no doubt said to her. You’re undercover, Oliver. You paying attention to her could be putting her and her daughter in danger. Did you even fucking think about that?”

  He held up his hands in defeat. “I’ll go apologize to her.”

  “No,” I snapped. “I wasn't joking when I said don’t talk to her. I’ll let her know you won't be bothering her again.”

  With that, I stormed past him and let myself out. I didn’t even want to be in the same room with him. If I thought it would make a difference, I’d ask the Captain to assign someone else to be Oliver’s handler.

  I was keyed up, and it probably wasn’t the smartest choice to see Michele when I was like this, but I found myself in front of her door anyway. I’d promised I’d check in on her. Before I could change my mind, my knuckles connected with the wood. Faint footsteps came from inside and then she was in front of me, a bright smile on her face that quickly faded. I tried to force my facial muscles to move, but my jaw was clenched too tightly.

  "Is everything okay?" Michele asked with a nervous hitch in her breath.

  "Yeah. Can I come in?"

  “Y—Yes, of course." She stepped back, and I measured my stride so I didn't storm past. My rage wasn’t directed at her. I needed to rein it in.

  The door closed behind her and she leaned against it, her fingers twisting at her waist. She opened her mouth, but Maisie rushed over from where she'd been seated at the kitchen table and wrapped her arms around my leg.

  "Hi, Mister Pablo. I didn't knowed you was coming over. Wanna come see what I got?"

  Finally, I was able to unfreeze the rigidness from my frame. I sent what I hoped was a reassuring smile to Michele, who offered a half-hearted one in return, before I gave my full attention back to Maisie. "What do you have?"

  She grabbed my hand and pulled me over to what looked like a puzzle she'd been working on. For the next few minutes I watched her put the oversized pieces together, her tongue peeking out between her lips in total concentration. Between each piece she rattled off all the things she did at preschool that day while I nodded, oohed, and ahhed in the appropriate places, all the while keenly aware of the woman watching us.

  Eventually, Maisie finished and must have decided that was enough show and tell for the day, because she jumped down from her chair and settled on the floor in the living room with her crayons and drawing paper. Michele came over and pushed the completed puzzle to the other side of the table and took the seat her daughter just vacated. "Have I done something wrong?"

  "No," I rushed to reassure her. “I'm sorry if I made you feel that way. I hesitated coming over here feeling this angry, except I didn't want to break my promise. I want you to trust that I'll do what I say I will."

  "Then what is it?"

  I couldn't disclose Oliver's identity to a civilian. "If I could tell you, I would, but it's work related." I reached across and squeezed her hand, looking her straight in the eye so hopefully she could see the honesty in them. "You have my word that I won't ever intentionally hold the truth from you, but I also work with undercover agents, so there are things I can't talk about. This happens to be one of them."

  She studied me, her hand slowly ceasing to tremble beneath mine. Finally she blinked and gave me a short nod. "Thank you for your honesty. I hope whatever happened to make you mad gets better."

  I turned her hand over and rubbed my thumb gently over her palm. “I will always do my best to be honest with you."

  We continued staring at one another until Maisie rushed back into the kitchen breaking our connection.

  "Mister Pablo, read me a story?" She stood next to me and thrust a book under my nose.

  "Maisie Danielle Lewis, what have I told you about using your manners? We don't demand things. We ask nicely," Michele corrected, her voice sharp.

  I bit back my grin at the expression of chagrin that spread across the face of the miniature version of her mother. She looked properly chastised as she cast her gaze to the floor. "Sorry, mama." Then she laid those baby blues on me. "Mister Pablo, will you read me a story, please?"

  "If you don't have time…” Michele began.

  I waved away her concern. "It's okay. I think I have time for one story."

  "Yay," Maisie hollered.

  She snatched my hand and tried pulling me out of my chair. I let her and she tugged me along and out into the living room, directing us to the couch. Once I was seated, she climbed up next to me and handed me her book. I opened it up and began to read, her small head resting against my arm while she stared down at each page I turned.

  I was acutely aware of Michele, who’d followed behind us. The only place left to sit besides the floor was on the other side of Maisie. She hesitated, but finally she settled in next to her daughter while I read about a young girl and her puppy.

  Chapter 16

  Listening to Pablo read to Maisie was both the sweetest and the sexiest thing ever. If I hadn’t already been falling for him, it was watching the two of them together that put me over the edge. He was so patient with her, listening any time she had something
to say, and it was obvious she adored him. I didn't talk about Warren with her, and she had yet to ask. With her being in pre-school and around other kids who had dads, it was only a matter of time before she did start asking though. Seeing Pablo with her made me realize that when the time came, I was going to have to come up with something. It hurt me that I had to tell her the truth. At least a sanitized, age-appropriate version of it.

  I always thought I'd be enough for her, just the two of us as a team, but seeing Maisie blossom under the attention Pablo paid her, that wasn't fair. It was pretty clear she was doing well with a male influence in her life. Or at least with this man's influence. She certainly hadn't responded this way to any of the other men I'd briefly dated, and most certainly not to Jonas. It made me happy to see how animated she was becoming, but it also scared me. Because he was capable of breaking not one heart, but two.

  "The end," Pablo said with flourish, closing the book and setting it down on his lap.

  "Read it again, please," she begged.

  "Maisie," I drew out her name. "Pablo said he had time for one story. We can't keep him here all night. He probably has somewhere he needs to be."

  He shook his head. “I actually have the evening free. But I also don't want to impose by overstaying my welcome. I'd like to be invited back."

  God, that smile of his struck me dumb. It also made my heart race and my core throb. "It's not an imposition. We've enjoyed your company. And you're welcome back any time."

  "You know, since I'm here," he paused. “I'm not sure what your plans are for dinner, but maybe I could take you ladies out to eat? It's not the home cooked meal I'd originally offered, which is still on the table, by the way, but if you haven't eaten and I haven't eaten...it's kind of a win-win."

  "Oh mama, can we? My belly is so hungry." Maisie rubbed it to emphasize her point.

  Wow, she was really putting it on tonight. It was nearly time for us to eat, and I didn't have anything special planned for dinner either. Not that I ever did. It was always whatever I could find in the fridge or the cabinets, which usually amounted to mac and cheese and chicken tenders. "Are you sure? I don't want to take you away from any plans you already made."