ARRESTED: A Stepbrother Cop Romance Page 4

“Wanted a change of scene.”

  Simons looks at me suspiciously. He knows I’m a creature of habit. In most towns, the cops have their haunts. Ours is across town. The thing is, it does get a bit tired when you constantly see the same people and hear the same shit, day in, day out. That’s not the reason we are here, though.

  Mr. Douchebag, Jackson’s fucking asshole father, is the reason we’re here. If I told Simons that, though, he’d flip out. We’re off duty and I’ve got no business trying to hunt down perps out of official time.

  I glance over my shoulder, taking a swig of cold beer, scanning the crowd. There’s no one that I can see who looks like the idiot in the wedding picture.

  “This place stinks like ass,” Simons says wrinkling his nose.

  I snort. “Smells like the locker room at the station.”

  “True.”

  “Anyway, we’ve got beer, we’ve got sports and we’ve almost got conversation.”

  “Fuck you, Carlisle.”

  I punch Simons on the shoulder affectionately. We’ve been friends since I started the job and he’s a good guy. Honest to a fault, decent morals, straight as an arrow. He’d hate what I’m intending to do.

  “I didn’t know you felt that way about me,” I joke and it’s his turn to snort.

  “Trust me, you’re nothing like my type.”

  “Tits too big for you?” I make my pecs jump up and down and he shakes his head in disgust.

  “Dude, what the fuck?”

  He’s fighting not to laugh which makes me smile. At the station, the other cops are always joking that we’re like brothers. I guess we take our work seriously in the same way. There’s a time for jokes but not when you’re dealing with the serious shit our job throws at us.

  “I like big titties.” Simons delivers that line totally deadpan and I nearly snort beer through my nose.

  “Fuck, man. Who doesn’t?”

  I get a flash of the last amazing pair of tits I saw this week. That Allyson sure had a fine rack on her, and she knew it, sticking those things out like they were her armor against the world.

  “I stopped this woman for speeding this week,” I tell Simons. “She was driving like she was being chased.”

  “Yeah.” He puts his empty bottle down and waves down the barman, indicating two more of the same. “You book her?”

  “Nah. She was sorry so I let her off with a very stern warning.”

  “Oh yeah.” Simons narrows his eyes at me. I can almost hear the cogs of his suspicious police brain in motion. “How sorry was she?”

  “What kind of fucking question is that?”

  “Listen, Carlisle. Before you get all indignant and shit, you’re the one who took the conversation from big titties to a speeding woman, to letting her off with a warning. I’m the one sitting here wondering what the link is?”

  I shake my head and laugh. “She had really amazing…eyes.”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So it was her eyes that caused you to let her off with a warning.”

  This whole conversation is one big joke but there’s something about what he says that niggles me. We can joke about this shit. If he’d asked me straight out why I let her off, I’d have probably said because she was so sassy and her little walk along the line had made my dick hard. But now that I think about it, I knew I wasn’t going to give her a ticket from the moment I looked into that car. Her knuckles had been white she’d been gripping the steering wheel so tightly and she had real fear in her eyes. The way she’d been driving, it was as though she was trying to get away from something bad.

  After a few years on the job I can smell real fear, and I can tell who’s bullshitting. Allyson might have been playing a little flirty game with me. She tried to use her best assets, and she had plenty, to get me to let her off. But it was what I saw before she turned on the bullshit that made me lenient.

  “Yeah. You know I’m a sucker for a pretty pair of…eyes!”

  “Aren’t we all.”

  I grab my fresh beer and take a swallow. There’s a rowdy shout in the corner of the bar and I turn my head instinctively to see what’s going on. There’s a guy in the corner who’s obviously telling some bullshit story in a drunkenly loud voice, his arms flailing to emphasize. Even though all I can see is his back I get a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach. My dad calls it cop instinct. Maybe he’s right. I turn on my stool, waiting to see if the obnoxious meathead will turn around. As his hands come into view again, I can see his knuckles are split.

  Fucking piece of shit.

  Simons seems to sense that something is going on with me because he stops talking about how unprofessional I am, letting titties affect my judgment. He follows my gaze to the guy I am convinced is Jackson’s punch-happy father.

  “What you looking at, C?” he says quietly.

  “That loud mouth fuck over there. I think he was the perp in a domestic I dealt with yesterday.

  “Oh yeah.” I know Simons is putting two and two together and coming up with the perfect answer. “That’s why we’re drinking beer in this shithole?”

  “Maybe,”

  “C,” he says in a tone that warns me to stand down. “The wife, has she pressed charges?”

  “No.”

  “Do you think she will?”

  I shake my head.

  “So what? You’re planning to arrest him anyway. While you’re off duty?”

  I shake my head again.

  “You planning to warn him off then?”

  “I don’t know,” I say, anger surging to my fists. I imagine them making contact with his ugly face, bone crunching against bone, flesh splitting under the force of my righteous anger. I want to show him how his wife felt when he decided to show her who was boss. I want to see him on his knees, begging for mercy like I’m sure she did.

  “You got this under control?” Simons asks. I know he’s asking if I can rein in my temper.

  “Yeah, man.” Douchebag is laughing at his own joke and a few of his buddies’ smile. He turns to grab his beer from a tall table behind him and I finally get a look at his ugly face.

  It’s definitely him.

  I slide off my stool and put my beer on the bar. “C…” Simons warns again.

  “I’ve got this,” I tell him, striding across the bar.

  When I get up behind Jackson’s dad I put my hand on the back of his neck. It’s a friendly move and he looks back at me in surprise.

  “Hey,” I say, as though I’m greeting an old friend from high school. “Can I talk to you for a minute? It’s about your wife.”

  I see his eyes flash at the mention of her. His shoulders go tense and I grip into his flesh, needing him to understand who is in control of this situation.

  “What you talking about?” he slurs. He’s obviously well on his way to drunk and disorderly.

  “I don’t think you want your friends to hear what I gotta say.”

  His eyes register and I see him clench his fist at his side. Whether he’s remembering what he did or gearing up to punch me in the face, I have no idea. I’m ready for him, whatever his intentions.

  I press the back of his neck and he reluctantly allows me to move him away from his group of friends. Wasting no time, I bend down to deliver my message directly into his ear.

  “I know what you like to do to your wife, you fucking piece of shit. I’ve seen the inside of your house. I know what it looks like after one of your rampages. You fucking hurt your wife or your son again and God help me, you’ll never use your hands again. Do you understand me?”

  He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds as he takes in what I’ve just said. I know he’s trying to work out who the fuck I am. For a moment, he looks like he might spit out some sort of snide retort but I’m looming over him, breathing menacingly, and he seems to find some sense in his bone-head.

  “Nod if you understand what I’m telling you.” He nods. “Understand this. I know where you live. I know wh
ere you drink. If I need to track your ass down it won’t take me longer than five minutes. I’m gonna be driving past that nice little house you got every few days, and if I see a mark on your wife or your son, your feet won’t touch the ground. Now get on back to your moron friends and keep your hands to yourself.”

  Jackson’s dad looks like he might explode at any second, shoulders high and tight, fists balled, but there’s no real courage in him. If I was smaller and meeker he might have tried to best me, but I’m not, and he doesn’t.

  “Fuck you!” he mumbles as he walks away and I grab him by the arm.

  “You got something to say, big man?”

  He doesn’t look at me but pulls his arm away and retreats quietly this time.

  I watch him go, then return to my stool, picking up my beer and downing it in one.

  “Fuck it, let’s get out of this shithole,” I say to Simons.

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  I leave, feeling like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. If there is one thing I can’t stand, it’s when the perps get the best of me.

  6

  ALLYSON

  Angelo’s looms ahead of me on the right, for some reason looking foreboding instead of its usual welcoming sight. The scent of Italian cooking wafts through my open window making my stomach grumble. Nerves fight with extreme hunger as I pull into the parking lot, snagging a spot towards the back of the restaurant. All the worry about Drew, and meeting Jeff has stolen my appetite for most of the day. I hope once the initial introductions are over I’ll be able to eat a full portion of Chicken Parmesan and some dessert. The cheesecake here is supposed to be amazing.

  I throw the car into park, press the button to put the window up and get out of the car, straightening my skirt and smoothing my blouse. I’ve tried hard to make the right impression tonight, for mom. My nerves are buzzing so I take a deep breath and hold it, so conscious of the deep and fast beating of my heart. I shouldn’t be this nervous but I can’t help it. I don’t want to let Mom down by opening my big mouth and saying something stupid. Drew’s criticisms loom large in my mind.

  There’s no getting out of it, though.

  I press the button on my key fob to lock the doors but before I can turn towards Angelo’s, a clean, woodsy aroma fills my senses and the air surrounding me seems to get warmer.

  “I hope you weren’t speeding.”

  Oh god, that voice. Low, deep and smooth as chocolate with that hint of husk that had me almost drooling. Though I can hear the grin in Officer Carlisle’s voice, I still panic. Was he following me on my journey from campus? I don’t think I was speeding excessively but I probably went over the limit a couple of times.

  I spin around to see the man who’s invaded my fantasies these last few days and kept me going in an indirect way. The uniform is gone of course. Tonight Mr. Good Cop is wearing black dress pants matched with a crisp white shirt that is open at the collar. He’s still grinning at me; the grin I’d so desperately wanted to see the other night. There’s no girl with him and I think I see a spark of attraction lighting his eyes. I can’t believe that I’d run into him, tonight of all nights. There’s so much riding on this meal. First impressions count. It’s like my ghosts are following me.

  But it’s not all bad. Officer Carlisle’s is just as sexy as he was in my fantasies and a whole lot cockier it seems. “Guess you’ll never know,” I say, tossing my hair over my shoulder and then gripping my purse to still my trembling hands. I consider the uncomfortable truth that fear and arousal can often spark the same physical reactions in me.

  “Maybe not,” he says, his voice getting closer as he leans in. “But I’m pretty good at deducing.”

  I glance back at him and he’s smiling knowingly. What’s he trying to say? That he knows that my speeding the other night wasn’t a one off. Is he accusing me of being reckless? Or is it something else? I eye him, trying to size up his meaning. He draws in his bottom lip like he’s thinking about kissing and I almost do the same.

  God. If I did that he’d know I’m attracted to him. I’m so transparent.

  A flash of my fantasy chooses just that moment to surface – the part where he pushed his cock inside me - and my cheeks immediately feel hot. Thank goodness he isn’t a mind reader.

  I smile and take a step closer, looking up at him challengingly. “I’m sorry you have such a bad opinion of me, Officer. I promise I’m not usually such a bad girl.”

  He leans in until our noses are almost touching, holding my gaze. “I don’t think I believe you, Allyson.”

  I smirk at him, not moving, heart pounding as he seems to drift even closer. All it would take would be one stumble and I’d finally get to feel those soft, full lips. “Is that your cop instincts talking?”

  He slowly shakes his head. “I’m off duty.”

  His soft brown eyes flash with mischief and dark promise and I wish I could stay and play his game but I can’t. I’m already five minutes late for dinner and mom is a stickler for punctuality.

  “I’m late,” I murmur, drifting forward an inch as I sway on my heels. I catch the minty scent of his breath and feel the warmth of his body heat.

  “Now I definitely know you were speeding.”

  I snort and shake my head. “Off duty, my ass,” I say, turning to make my way towards the restaurant. He follows closely, and I can’t help swaying my hips as I walk. There’s no line tonight and my outfit is a damn site demurer but I hope he likes it just the same.

  At the entrance, I yank open the door and pause. “You have a good evening Officer,” I say. He smiles, holding the door open high above my head. The lights inside are dim and votive candles flicker atmospherically. Mom waves from a booth near the back by the fireplace so I make my way over, thinking about where in the restaurant Officer Carlisle might be sitting, and hoping he will respect the fact that I’m here for a private dinner. Mom and I hug tightly, and then she pulls back and holds my face, kissing me affectionately.

  “You look beautiful,” she says, sounding so proud that I get a lump in my throat. At least she appreciates the effort I’ve made. I glance across the table and notice the handsome man sitting with her. He has dark blond hair streaked with white, kind eyes and a wide smile. First impressions are good. Mom’s taste passes my standards.

  Mom takes her seat at the table and I turn to her date. “You must be Jeff. My mom hasn’t stopped talking about you.”

  I grin when a blush stains her cheeks. Jeff offers his hand and I shake it firmly.

  “Great to finally meet you, Allyson. She raves about you, too.”

  I smile at my mom, taking in the way her happiness radiates from her. She’s sparkling in a way I haven’t seen before, lit up from the inside. I watch as she inches closer to Jeff and he covers her hand with his and squeezes. It’s something so small but absolutely huge to me. Tiny hints of affection speak of a deep connection and I’m suddenly so overwhelmed at their obvious love for each other. It’s probably weird that I suddenly feel on the outside of her life now, where I’d always been at the center. I’m a grown woman but that doesn’t seem to have stopped me from needing my mom’s focus.

  I sigh, feeling blue and so damn guilty for it. I should be focusing on her happiness and what a handsome couple they make but my insecurities are buzzing loudly in my mind. It takes a moment for me to realize that one of our little party still hasn’t arrived.

  “Where’s your son? Is he coming?” I ask Jeff.

  A woodsy aroma fills my senses again and I turn to find that Officer Carlisle has followed me across the restaurant. He grins at me and I freeze, thinking of what a terrible impression I will make on Captain Jeff when he knows that I was pulled over for speeding. Officer Carlisle’s mouth opens and I brace myself, expecting him to say something about my law-breaking ways. Maybe he wasn’t impressed by my incessant flirting and sassing.

  “I’m right here,” he says and for a moment I’m confused. I blink slowly, trying to work out what
he means.

  Mom stands up again and pulls Officer Carlisle into an embrace as Jeff stands to give him an affectionate pat on the back.

  “It’s so great you could make it, Cory,” my mom says and finally, the reality of the situation hits me like a block of concrete.

  Officer Carlisle isn’t here to tell my mom and stepfather-to-be about my wayward behavior. He’s my new smug-as-fuck stepbrother-to-be.

  This moment has to go down as one of the most embarrassing of my life. Heat rushes to my face and I hope my mom doesn’t notice. I plaster on a smile and turn to see him grinning at me, his head cocked to one side. He thinks this is so funny, but I definitely do not. I let the smile drop from my face and glare at him, hoping my wrathful expression will warn him against using my ‘walk the line’ story against me. He winks and I turn, suppressing a mortified groan as I slide into the seat opposite Jeff. Cory takes the seat beside me.

  “Great, then! Everyone is here,” Jeff says cheerfully, grabbing the menu up from the table.

  “You two are going to get on like a house on fire, I can tell.” My mom is practically clapping her hands with the excitement of the evening.

  I suppress another groan. If only she knew. The grin on Cory’s face gets wider until he’s full on smiling. God, his smile is amazing; perfect teeth, full lips and one sexy dimple that does ridiculous things to me. I worked so hard for his smile that night on the roadside, and here he is giving it away for practically nothing.

  I reach for my glass of water, needing something to cool me down, and almost knock it over in my haste. Cory moves a little closer to me, brushing my leg with his. He’s still grinning but he’s looking at my mom and his dad now. Panic rushes through me that he’ll reveal that we’ve already met or worse, how.

  “I’ve never eaten here, what’s good?” he asks picking up a menu.

  A waitress comes by the table and fills the water glasses then looks at us expectantly. Eager to get the dinner over with I scan the menu quickly and order the chicken, too distracted to even consider any other options. Not that I’ll be able to eat much of it anyway. My stomach is churning, made all the worse by Cory sitting beside me. He drops a hand from the table and I think he’s dropped his napkin. Then I feel his fingers on my leg, well my thigh to be exact. It’s such a shock that I jump, putting my hand on top of his and holding it still. Mom looks at me with concern.