27. Brady
CHAPTER 27
Brady
“Y ou sure you are okay with all of this?” Ryleigh asks me when Harmony is out of the room and I look over at her.
“She’s living in my house,” I remind her. “I wouldn’t have her and her son living with me if I wasn’t okay.” I make sure I emphasize the words. “She wouldn’t be here.”
She nods at me. “That woman is already packed and ready to run,” she relays, but it’s something I feel down to my bones.
“She’s not going anywhere,” I declare.
“I knew a guy like you once.” She smirks at me. “Never took no for an answer.”
“Yeah?” I do a chin up. “Where is he now?”
“Taking care of our two girls.” She turns to head to the table, her smile plastered on. “When we get to the station”—she goes back to business as she puts her things away—“they are going to take us in a room.” I watch her as I listen for Harmony’s footsteps. “You won’t be allowed in the room.” I start to get tense. “But if I need you to make an official statement, I’ll call you.”
“I’m not letting her go in there all alone,” I snap, and Ryleigh side-eyes me.
“She’s not going in there alone.” She grabs her bag. “I’ll be with her every step of the way.” Her voice goes low. “I don’t know your backstory, but I can sense the hatred you feel for them radiating off you. She’s already freaking out; she’s not going to be on her game if she thinks she has to take care of you also.”
“I’ll be outside, then,” I give in to her, “but the minute, and I mean the minute?—”
“Trust me,” Ryleigh cuts in when the knock comes at the front door, “those men out there”—she points at the door, then to herself—“you think those men would let me go anywhere they thought I wasn’t safe?” She shakes her head. “Max and Matthew are my husband’s uncles. The two of them played for the NHL. My husband also plays for the NHL. My father is Tyler Beckett.” The name rings a bell, and I don’t have much time to think about it because she tells me. “He’s the biggest name on screen. Does his own stunts. Now let’s throw in Casey for fun, just to mix it up. I’m pretty sure Matthew and Casey could take over the fucking world without sweating. You think the Cartwrights scare me?” She laughs. “I’m begging them to fuck with me at this point. I’m begging them to fuck with her because fucking with her is fucking with me and them”—she points at the door—“and now you.”
I nod at her as the alarm beeps, and the door is pulled open by Harmony. “Hi,” she says, and Ryleigh walks to the door and stops beside me.
“She won’t do it,” she says, “but if he shows up here, you call the cops first, then me. You do not hesitate to call them. You hear his car on the street, you pick up that phone. After our meeting today with the sheriff, he’ll know we aren’t backing down. He’s going to relay that message to them, and they aren’t going to be happy. Winston isn’t going to be happy, and the only person he will take it out on is Harmony, so be ready.” She doesn’t give me a chance to say anything before she walks out of the room.
I get in the truck with Harmony beside me as I follow them to the sheriff’s office. She gives me one more look before she walks with Ryleigh into the station.
“We have eyes and ears in there,” Casey states from beside me, and I just look over at him. “Sheriff isn’t running that tight of a ship, and a lot of his new deputies think it’s time for him to retire.”
I don’t say anything as Casey walks over to the car and leans on it next to Matthew, sunglasses on his face and his arms crossed over his chest. Max is in the same position next to him, and all eyes are on the door that Ryleigh and Harmony entered.
“It’s almost over,” Charlie says to me softly.
“Or just beginning.” I look back at him and wait for Harmony to come out. It takes a full thirty-five minutes, which feels like an eternity. My eyes are on hers as she walks out. Her eyes find mine, and she gives me a small smile.
“You okay?” Matthew is the first to Ryleigh’s side as she nods and about pffts.
“Old man thought because I was a girl, I didn’t know anything.” She shakes her head. “Rookie mistake.” She smiles up at him. “That was good, right, using the rookie thing?”
“You did good.” He laughs at her, putting his arm around her neck and kissing her head. “Now, let’s get you home. Your husband has been blowing up my phone.”
“Whose fault is that?” she quizzes. “You were the one who showed up at the house with the whole ‘we have to have a meeting’ talk. I could have come here quietly without waking the beast.” She turns to Harmony. “Eyes and ears open,” she reminds her. “You see him, and he comes toward you, find a place with lots of people so you have witnesses. If he corners you when you are by yourself, you film it.”
“We already have people at Brady’s house,” Casey states, shocking even me, “putting up cameras outside. Since there is no way he can get inside the house with the system Brady has.”
“How do you know that?” Harmony asks, her face going pale.
“Who do you think installed the inside system?” Casey tells her. “Be smart. This will be over soon.”
She nods at him, and I take her to the truck after she hugs Ryleigh, and the two of them whisper something to each other.
“You need to get to work.” She looks at me. “And I need a nap.” I nod at her and kiss her at the door and head to work.
I’m at work when she sends me the first text.
Harmony: Just got up from a nap.
I look at my watch and see that she napped for close to three hours.
Me: How are you feeling?
Harmony: As if something bad is going to happen. Going to get Wyatt. I’ll text you when I get back.
I look around the crammed bar, and I’m about to see if I can duck out when I get a message from Casey.
Casey: All cameras are installed. They’re going straight through to my command station. We have every angle coming toward your house. He comes, we’ll see it.
I don’t know if that makes me feel better or not. I don’t have a chance to think about it when the orders start coming in. I stop for a second when I hear a ping and look down to see it’s her.
Harmony: Back from school, we are going to stick inside. See you later.
I put the phone back and hurry to finish the shift, and finally, at ten thirty, I’m walking up the steps and opening the door. She comes out from the kitchen and smiles when she sees me.
“Hi,” she says, and I see her wearing tight shorts with a matching tank top, with her hair piled on her head.
Something shifts in me. This isn’t the first time I’ve come home to her, but it’s the first time it’s dawned on me that this moment right here is the moment I was waiting for all night. Walking to her, closing the distance, I wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her up to me. “Hey, baby,” I reply softly, as my head bends and her head tilts back so I can kiss her, my tongue hungry to taste hers. Her hands go from my chest to my neck as the kiss gets deeper, wetter, and hungrier, the both of us needy to get more of each other.
“Did you eat?” she asks me when I finally let go of her lips, and I shake my head. “I kept you a plate.” She slips away from me. “I’ll go warm it up.” She turns to walk away from me, but her hand slides into mine as she pulls me with her. I wonder if she missed me as much as I missed her since I need to touch her as well. “Sit and take a load off,” she tells me, about to let go of my hand. Instead, I pull her back to me, pick her up at her waist, and place her ass on the counter. She gasps out, but only for a minute before she opens her legs for me, and I step in. I’m about to kiss her lips but instead I pull down the right side of her tank top. Her nipple springs free, and I suck it into my mouth. “Brady,” she moans my name as I move to the other one, taking it into my mouth and giving it the same attention.
I look up at her and see her eyes at half-mast, and my hand goes to her neck, pulling her mouth down to mine. Her hands grip my T-shirt and push it up as she wraps her legs around my waist. My cock feels her heat and wants to get into her as I let her mouth go and move my tongue down to her neck. “Baby,” I mutter when I suck in and taste her neck. “I need to taste you.” I move my mouth down, and I’m about to get my mouth exactly where I want it when I hear a car shrieking down the street. My blood runs cold, and when I look up at Harmony, it’s as if you threw ice-cold water on her. “Phone now,” I direct her and she pulls her top on, nodding and jumping off the island and calling the police.
I take my own phone out and call Charlie, who answers after two rings. I don’t wait for him to say anything. “He’s here.”
“On it,” he responds and hangs up. I then see her with her phone to her ear.
I don’t even hear the car door slam shut. All I hear are the footsteps, and then I think he stumbles to my railing. I walk toward the door when the pounding starts. “Get your ass out here, you motherfucker.” He’s slurring his words.
“Get upstairs,” I order her, “and stay with Wyatt.” Her face looks like a ghost.
“Brady, you can’t go out there, please,” she pleads. “Promise me.”
“I promise you. I will not go out there. But I need you to go and make sure Wyatt is okay.” She nods at me as she goes to the stairs.
“I see you in there, you bitch!” he yells. I can see his face glued to the door with the stained-glass windows, and I make a mental note to change them. It takes everything, and I mean everything, in me not to open the door and put my fist in his face. She walks up the steps and is looking over her shoulder, not at the door where he’s still pounding but at me.
“It’s going to be okay,” I assure her, and she runs to Wyatt’s room at the same time I see the flashing lights and then hear the sirens.
The phone rings in my hand, and I see it’s Casey. “Hello.”
“We have him on video arriving and falling out of his car and then stumbling,” he says. “Tell them he was being recorded.”
“Got it.” I disconnect when the pounding stops, and I hear two car doors close.
I walk to the front door and open it at the same time as one of the deputies stops in front of my bottom step. Winston looks back over at me. “This motherfucker,” he hollers, “is stopping me from seeing my wife and son.” His voice is slurred, to say the very least, and I can smell the booze from a mile away.
The deputy looks over at me. “Sir,” he says, remaining professional even though I served him a couple of times when he came into the bar when he wasn’t on duty.
“Deputy,” I say, pushing out of the storm door, “this man just showed up at my house and started pounding on my door.”
“I want him arrested,” Winston slurs as he walks down one step but literally trips over his own two feet, righting himself on the last step.
“He drove here drunk.” I ignore him. “And I have it all recorded.”
“Sir,” the deputy says as another car arrives, “have you been drinking tonight?”
“No,” Winston denies, shaking his head. “I had a glass of wine with dinner.”
“If you will come here so we can administer a sobriety test,” the deputy says to Winston, who puts his hands on his hips.
“I will do no such thing. You can’t make me,” he snarls at them. “I want my lawyer.”
“That’s fine,” the deputy replies, “but until then, I’m going to have to take you in on suspicion of driving under the influence.”
“I’m not coming with you,” he scoffs at them. “I’m going home.”
“I’m sorry, sir, you can’t do that,” the deputy states as another cruiser gets here, and I see it’s the deputy he plays golf with.
“Good, Beauford,” he says his name and then he looks at the other deputy.
“What do we have here?” he asks the deputy.
“Driving under the influence,” the deputy tells him and he looks at Winston.
“You see him arrive here driving his car?” Beauford asks him. “He could have walked here.”
I have to shake my head and put it down and silently laugh at how stupid he sounds. “There isn’t evidence that he drove here now. His car could have been here before.”
“I have it on video that he got here not five minutes ago,” I inform Beauford, who glares at me, not expecting that comment.
“I also did patrol on this street fifteen minutes ago and there was only one car in the driveway,” the deputy informs Beauford. “Called it in.” He walks toward Winston. “Sir, if you can put your hands behind your back.”
“This is crazy!” Winston shouts and moves away from him. “Beauford, do something.”
“Winston,” he says, his teeth clenched, “you are going to have to go with him until we see the evidence.”
“Fuck that.” He throws up his hand. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“Sir, you need to put your hands behind your back.” The deputy remains calm as he grabs his arm and walks him to the car.
“You don’t need to cuff him,” Beauford says. “He’ll go with you.” He walks to Winston. “Don’t be stupid. Go and call your lawyer.”
“No.” He about spits in his face in rage. “They are keeping me from my kid. I have my rights.” He turns, looks at the other deputy, and holds up his hands in front of him and stupidly puts his hands on the deputy’s chest.
“Jesus Christ,” Beauford hisses out, “he’s got a camera on him.” But the other deputy has him turned around and is slapping cuffs on him.
“You are going to hear from my lawyer,” Winston spits. “I’m going to sue all of you.”
“Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.” The deputy is taking him to the back of his patrol car. “If you give up that right?—”
Winston turns to him and spits on his shoes. “You are going to pay for this,” he warns the deputy, who smirks at him. “You will never work again.”
The deputy nods and places him in the back seat of his cruiser. I see Beauford look at the back seat, where Winston is throwing a fit and hitting his head on the window. “Just to be clear, in case there are discrepancies in what went down,” I speak up, and both of them look at me, “I have all of this”—I point at the scene—“recorded.”