Brothers in Blue: Marc Page 7

  Without acknowledgment, she turned and walked down the hallway. Really? She was just going to ignore him? He caught up to her before she reached the exit and he—since his hands were full, of course—pinned her against the wall with the bulk of his body.

  This was important. She wasn’t just going to walk away and blow him off. No way. No how. “Leah, look at me. Do you get what I’m saying?”

  She pinpointed her gaze to his throat, avoiding eye contact. “Yes, Corp. I get it.”

  She was fucking placating him. Telling him what he wanted to hear. Not good enough for him.

  He opened his mouth to tell her how she wasn’t ready to be on her own. How she needed to hone her skills. How she would be at risk. How she still didn’t have enough experience under her belt. How her petite self was going to fail defending herself against a two hundred and fifty pound asshole trying to take her down.

  Marc wanted to tell her anything and everything to keep her safe. He shut his mouth with a snap. He didn’t tell her any of that because it would have went over like a lead balloon. And then they would spend another shift hardly talking. He couldn’t prepare her for her solo shifts if she wasn’t listening. If she wasn’t prepared properly then she’d be defenseless and vulnerable. And if she failed, he failed.

  So instead he said, “So now I’m back to Corp again?”

  “You’re the corporal. I’m the rookie. You’re my coach. I’m the pupil. We need to remember that.”

  “Don’t expect me to be soft on you since we’re sleeping together.”

  “We’re not sleeping together, Corp. We fucked.”

  He raised his eyebrows. Those cold words were like a sucker punch in between the eyes. “Fine, Rookie. But you had no problems saying my name yesterday afternoon when you were riding me like a—.”

  A noise came from the lobby and he quickly moved away, letting her go. It was probably the sergeant starting his four to midnight shift.

  That was his cue to blow this popsicle stand and hit the road.

  Not even an hour into patrol he pulled into the municipal parking lot at the center of town. Ground zero for Max and Amanda’s relationship. If it wasn’t for her violating the time limit on the free parking and Max hadn’t written her a citation, they may have never hooked up. And that would have been a damn shame, as they were perfect together…when they weren’t butting heads. Fate? They thought so.

  But fuck fate. If Leah wanted to play it cold after that amazing sex yesterday, even if it hadn’t been in the most ideal location, then fine, he could act the definitive professional. He wasn’t going to beg to have another crack between those sweet, luscious thighs of her. He wasn’t going to long for those bow-shaped lips that turned a deeper shade of red after she wrapped them around his cock. He could go without her slender fingers pulling on his nipple rings.

  Yep. He could do without all that.

  He rubbed his damp palms on his thighs, panicking he may never get to delve between her legs and taste her sweetness again. Or see her reaction when he sank his teeth into the firm flesh of her ass. Or hear her cry out, “Faster. Harder. Again.” He may never hear his name on her lips as he buried himself deep inside her.

  She was like crack. One taste and he was addicted. Fuck me.

  His hard-on was rock solid and cramped in his uniform. He swallowed an uncomfortable lump and quickly grabbed Grant’s evaluation notebook from the dashboard. He placed it over his lap and took a pen out of his front pocket. He clicked the pen.

  “Are we going to do anything today, Corp? Or are we just going to sit here all day in silence?” She scanned the lot. “Are we looking for parking violators?”

  Click. Click. “No. Pop quiz.”

  He heard her sigh. He made a note in his notebook. Click.

  She turned to look at what he wrote, but he tilted the pad away from her line of sight.

  “Sure, Corp. On what?”

  Click. Click. “Ten codes.”

  The use of ten codes was being phased out of departments, everyone agreeing that using plain language was more efficient and understandable for cross agency use, especially during an incident where more than one agency was responding. He knew that. And he wasn’t sure they even taught ten codes anymore in the academy, but no matter what, she should know them.

  “Uh…”

  “You gotta problem with this quiz?” Click. Click.

  “No, Sir.”

  “Good. Ten-four.”

  “Copy.”

  “Ten-twenty.”

  “Location.”

  “Ten-seventeen.”

  “En route.”

  “Signal thirty-three.” He lifted his gaze from the notebook and looked over at her. She was focused on his mouth, which did not help his erection problem. He clicked the pen at double time. “This is an important one, Rookie.”

  “Corp…” The title escaped her lips softly.

  Oh fuck. Her coming undone was killing him. Right now, he’d rather deal with the cold cop than the sultry vixen. He cleared his throat, trying to steel himself, to keep from crushing her to him. “Signal thirty-three. What is it?” He closed the notebook and threw it in the corner of the dash.

  Her gaze fell to the unmistakable bulge in his pants. “Marc…”

  Her eyes softened and her lips parted.

  No, he would not let her change the rules of this game again. Either they were or they weren’t. He clicked the pen closed once last time and jammed it in his shirt pocket.

  But fuck the game of one minute you’re all cold and the next all hot and bothered and looking at him like a—

  Like a slice of—

  Pork roll.

  His breath hissed between his teeth. “I’m waiting for the answer, Rookie.”

  “Help,” she whispered, her throat convulsing as she swallowed hard. “Send help quickly.”

  He reached out to run his thumb over her lower lip, but before he made contact he pulled his hand away like it had been burnt.

  Bad idea, dummy, bad, bad idea.

  Leah caught her lower lip in her teeth and he forced his gaze away, taking a cleansing breath. “Remember that one. That one could save your life.”

  And then he saw them striding toward the car. One walking with a sway to her hips, which were encased in skin tight, hip hugging, low riding jeans, a peek of pale, smooth belly showing. The other rushing towards their patrol car with a similar gait as Menace. A rhino in a china shop. A big smile, mussed hair, and the ever-present stain on his shirt.

  The overzealous male in his early twenties did a belly flop onto the hood of the car, laughing. That was going to leave a mark. On the car, not Greg.

  Marc looked over to see Leah’s eyes as large as saucers.

  The intellectually disabled man’s presence was the magic potion needed to get rid of his ever-present erection. And the temptation that hung thickly in the car.

  He climbed out of the cruiser. “Seriously, Greg. If you dent the hood, someone is going to have to pay for it.”

  Greg pointed wildly at him, laughing. “You!”

  “No, not me. It’ll be your gorgeous sister.”

  “’Manda,” Greg said seriously, then busted out laughing again.

  Amanda Bryson took her good ol’ time getting to them and when she arrived she scolded her younger brother. “Gregory Martin Barber, why, why, why do you have to do shit like that.”

  “Shit!” Greg parroted, running clumsily in a tight circle. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

  His sister-in-law just shrugged and gave Marc a defeated look. “I’ve given up on trying not to curse around him.”

  She opened her arms wide and said, “Give me some sugar, handsome.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tight.

  “Ooo. Something’s hard against me. Did I do that?”

  Marc laughed. “Please, you know it’s my duty belt.”

  She peeked into the patrol car and tilted a head toward Leah. “Sure it is.”

  Marc
struggled not to react. He was not giving her ball-busting ass any fodder.

  “How’s that big, dumb dog of yours?”

  “He shit in my shoes this morning.”

  Amanda laughed, her whole face lighting up. She waved her hand. “That’s child’s play. Chaos ate a six hundred dollar pair of designer shoes when I first moved here. I’m sure yours only cost twelve dollars from Wal-Mart.” She elbowed him. “So, who’s the new hire?”

  “Jealous?” he teased her.

  Amanda pursed her lips. “Maybe. She looks…hot. Like someone who might get you in trouble, if you know what I mean.” She gave him an exaggerated wink.

  He ignored it. “Max didn’t give you the low down?”

  “Some. I just wanted to hear it from her women-in-law-enforcement tolerant trainer.” She crossed her arms and squinted up at him.

  Marc snorted and shook his head. She was always a smart ass.

  “Well, why don’t you fucking introduce us, meathead?”

  “Fucking. Fucking. Fucking,” Greg crowed into the air, now running laps around the car.

  “Shit,” Amanda murmured, looking around to see if any other town folk were close by.

  “Shit, shit, shit.” Greg repeated.

  Amanda smacked the palm of her hand against her forehead.

  “So who’s the meathead now?” he asked her with a wide grin.

  She ducked down enough to peer into the vehicle and said, “Hey, why don’t you step out so this one here can introduce us.”

  “Grant, get out of the car,” he barked out.

  “Well, that was totally unnecessary,” Amanda said in a low voice, so the rookie didn’t hear her. “Don’t act like a douche.”

  The passenger side door opened and Leah unfurled herself from the car. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Amanda checking her out. And he was the douche.

  Leah approached the driver’s side of the car until Greg blocked her path, bouncing on his toes. “Hi!”

  Leah smiled and said, “Hi! I’m Leah.”

  “I’m Greg! But my sister calls me Bud.”

  “Except when I have to call you your full name,” Amanda reminded him.

  “Yeah, I’m Gregory Martin Barber when I’m doin’ somethin’ I’s not supposed to.”

  “Which is how often, Greg?” Marc asked, like he was talking to a naughty child.

  Greg looked down and ground the toe of his sneaker into the pavement. “A lot.”

  “It’s not you, Greg,” Marc said to him, patting him on the back. “It’s because your sister is cranky a lot.”

  Greg looked up and gave him a wide grin. “Yeah, she is.”

  Amanda frowned and crossed her arms. “Thanks for that, you-who-will-be-called-names-later.” She plastered a smile on her face and extended her hand to Leah, who shook it firmly.

  “I’m Amanda. Your chief’s better half.”

  Marc choked which resulted in a quick glare before Amanda pinned the smile back on her face. Greg pounded him on the back twice. He was glad to have his Kevlar vest on. The guy was stronger than he appeared.

  “You okay, Marc?”

  “Yes, thanks, Greg. I’ll be fine.”

  “Annnyway, how have things been going for you?” Amanda asked Leah.

  Marc leaned back against the car, dying to hear the answer.

  “Great. I’m loving it here. Everyone is friendly and helpful. And I love your in-laws.”

  Amanda nodded in agreement. “Yeah, they’re good people. Sorry to hear about your father. I worry about Max every day.”

  Leah tilted her head and gave a sad smile. “Thanks. Yeah, I miss him.”

  What the fuck! Even Amanda knew about Grant’s father. And he didn’t. He should’ve asked her about yesterday when he saw her tattoo. They were going to have that discussion. Today. If it was the last thing he did.

  “Well, we’re on our way to visit Teddy. He said don’t forget to stop by for a trim.”

  Leah chuckled. “I will. Thanks.”

  Amanda jabbed her thumb toward Marc. “Don’t let this one run you off. Make sure you stick around and become a thorn in his side. He loves women cops.”

  Marc loved his sister-in-law like family and he knew she was just breaking his balls because it was her most endearing quality as the daughter of Satan, even if what she said was true.

  They said their goodbyes and Amanda dragged Greg away toward the square as they climbed back into the cruiser.

  He turned to Leah to ask about her father and the radio squawked loudly. “County Dispatch to all available units. Fight at Crazy Pete’s bar. Code three. EMS en route. Will stage until scene is cleared. Any units?”

  Marc yanked the mic out of its holder while he awkwardly started the car with his left hand. Time was of the essence. “Manning Grove six en route. How many actors?”

  “Unknown at this time.”

  Marc’s adrenaline spiked through the roof. He latched his seatbelt and checked to make sure Leah had done the same. He hit the lights and sirens and the cruiser shot out of the parking lot like a rocket, tires squealing. The V-8 kicked in and they roared down the street.

  Marc glanced over at Leah to see if she was nervous, but she had an excited look on her face and she gripped the handle above the door, holding on as he took corners at warp speed.

  “Some real action,” he yelled over the sirens.

  She gave him a quick smile and then concentrated on where he was headed. “Is this a nuisance bar?”

  “It can be. It’s the only bar in town. So where there’s drunk people…”

  She nodded.

  He stopped the car on a dime in front of Crazy Pete’s, grabbing the mic again. “Dispatch, Manning Grove six on scene.”

  “Copy, Manning Grove six.”

  He had a hard time containing his excitement. There wasn’t a lot of action in this town, but when there was it usually was a doozy.

  They both let their seatbelts fly and Leah was halfway out of the door before he could stop her.

  “Grant! Don’t you go in there without me!”

  She hesitated long enough for him to catch up and he busted through the door first. This was not a ladies first situation. He knew the layout of the place because as the only bar, he drank there too. But the place was dank and the jukebox blaring as he scanned the getting-shitfaced-after-work crowd.

  “Stay right behind me,” he told Leah, though he didn’t turn to check to see if she had listened. He kept his eyes on the melee in the corner where the pool tables were. Pool tables meant que sticks. Which meant easily accessible weapons. A broken que stick laid on the pool table, and a bloody eight ball was in one of the actor’s hand.

  “Put the ball down,” Leah commanded from over his shoulder.

  Oh no. Nuh uh. He was in charge here. “Put the ball down now, Fred.”

  Fred had another guy’s shirt fisted his hand while he pinned the victim in the corner. The victim had what looked like, on quick glance, a smashed eye socket. Ouch.

  “Fuck you, cop!”

  Marc drew his ASP baton and flicked it outward until it expanded. He brought it down along his right thigh so it was ready, if needed. He heard Leah move up behind him and to his right. “ASP. Watch our back,” he murmured to her. He heard her baton expand with a sharp click. “Get on the radio and see if another unit is en route.”

  He kept his concentration on Fred. And there was another obviously drunk guy next to him, but Marc didn’t know him. But Fred? Yeah, he knew him. A bad alcoholic with an extensive record. Domestic violence, assault with a deadly weapon, simple assault, illegal firearm, battery, harassment, and the list went on. Simply an all-around nice guy.

  Since he wasn’t actively beating the man he had in his grip, Marc decided to see if he could talk Fred into complying before taking him down by force. “So, what happened here, Fred?”

  “Nothing, pig.”

  “It seems to be a little more than just nothing. Did he cheat you at a game of pool?”<
br />
  Fred remained silent, his breathing harsh, his white-knuckled hand paused in the air with the pool ball, like he was going to bring it down on the vic at any moment.

  Marc had to make sure that wouldn’t happen. Because if it did, he might not have any choice but to take him down forcibly. Of course, he preferred all drunk assholes to submit to arrest peaceably. But that was a pipe dream.

  “You,” he tilted his chin toward the other guy next to Fred. “Get out of there now.”

  The second drunk blinked at him, looked at Fred, shrugged, and stumbled toward Marc.

  “My partner here is going to cuff you just for your safety and mine. Just until we can sort this all out. Grant,” he called out to her.

  Leah stepped around him, careful to stay out of Marc’s line of sight and, took the man into custody, patting him down and cuffing him.

  “What’s your name?” Leah asked him. The guy mumbled something. “Well, David, why don’t you sit down right here before you fall.”

  Her voice was even and cool, and with a quick flick of his gaze, he saw she had him cuffed behind his back. She was doing well, which gave him a little sense of relief. If he didn’t have to worry about how she was handling herself, he could concentrate on the man in front of him.

  “Fred, put the ball down on the table and step away.”

  “This fucker cheated me out of twenty bucks. He comes into town where he don’t know nobody, and thinks he can make a bit of easy money with our town folk. He needs to be taught a damn lesson.”

  “Looks like he learned his lesson, Fred. Do you really want to go to Rockview for murder? ‘Cause that’s where you’ll be headed for a long time if you hit him again.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” he grumbled.

  “Oh, I bet it’ll matter to your kids. You’ve already spent enough time in prison. Don’t you think they’d miss you?”

  Fred lowered his hand, but didn’t let go of victim’s shirt.

  “Fred, step back.”

  Fred shook his head, but a moment later he released the vic and stepped back. The injured man sank to the floor, his back still in the corner, his knees folded up to his chest. Blood covered his face, his clothes, and floor. At least the poor guy was out of the line of engagement. Marc tightened his fingers around the rubber grip of his ASP, angling his body so he could rush in and strike Fred if he made any sudden moves.