Chapter 1 #2
Another fact? His eyes burned with intensity whenever he looked at me.
At first, I thought it was animosity, but it was something else, and the closest word to describe it would be taunt.
His eyes glinted with provocation and challenge, as if daring me to react.
Sometimes his gaze would be more restrained, and sometimes he blatantly stared at me.
I returned the favor and stared back, holding his gaze in a silent confrontation, because I was onto him. I could see what others could not.
I told him that, too. One night at Pete’s, I stood in his way and spoke to him for the first time since he came to the LD. When his amber eyes rose to meet mine, my throat constricted as if it didn’t know whether to gulp or take air in.
“Wh-what?” Jordan mumbled as two red blotches appeared on his cheeks.
“There’s something wrong with you,” I said, looking straight into those amber, lying eyes.
He stood there as if rooted to the spot, his cheeks reddening, then paling, then reddening again.
I could feel the tension seeping out of him and mixing with his cologne, making me want to take a shower.
For a moment, I thought he was going to keep up the charade, but then the weirdest thing happened.
His eyes lit up, filled with golden sparks, and almost blinded me.
His teeth flashed in a wide smile that gut-punched me.
The truth poured out of his mouth, making my blood freeze in my veins.
“Prove it,” he said. Not “p-prove it” or “prove it-t”, which was the rehearsed version he usually delivered. Prove it. It came with a twinkle of mischief and fascination in his eyes that he didn’t even bother hiding.
“Markland, are you in love? Your eyes are all dreamy.”
The scratchy voice, followed by a burp, reminded me I'd forgotten to mention the latest addition to the LD. He was also my direct competition in the asshole department.
Buck Hensley was a bully. He bullied his wife, his three sons, and even the old ladies crossing the street with the help of a walking cane.
He was a surly, overweight, greasy-looking man and the worst cop I ever worked with.
He also wasn’t the smartest tool in the shed, or he would have thought twice before provoking me.
“What’s wrong, Buck?” I said, smirking. “Did you gamble away your paycheck again? Or have you fathered another brainless offspring like the three you have at home?”
“You fucking asshole!” Buck growled, lunging at me.
I grinned and let him slam me into a wall, because pain sometimes felt better than numbness. Everyone in the room rushed toward us, but Jordan was the quickest, and he pushed Buck away from me.
“Let go of him, you jerk!”
Buck pushed him back, and since Jordan was much lighter than him, he ended up hitting a wall.
Just like that, I saw red. I grabbed Buck by the throat, ready to tear him apart, when Maddox pulled him away from me.
I would have followed him like a rabid beast when arms closed around me, and a scent of lemons washed over me.
My throat tightened as my gaze shifted from Buck’s larynx to the arms still wrapped around my chest.
“Are you ok-kay?” Jordan stammered, finally letting go of me.
I slowly turned, as my bewildered gaze met his amber one.
“Have you lost your mind, weirdo?” I exclaimed. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
“Huh?”
He was playing dumb again, and it made me lose it. I stepped toward him, seriously considering punching him in the face. It wouldn’t be the first time, either.
“How many times do I have to tell you to leave me alone?” I growled. “Stop looking at me. Stop talking to me. Stop being where I am. Why are you always where I am? Why are you always touching me? I swear to God, if you touch me again one more time…”
I let my threat hang in the air as he blinked, tensing up. Lie. Truth. Lie. Truth. I could see it switching in his eyes like the red and black slots on a roulette table. Once in a blue moon, I could spot a debate in those amber depths, weighing between honesty and deceit.
When his eyes lit up with golden flame, I knew I’d won.
“Or what?” Jordan countered, stepping toward me. “What are you going to do to me?”
I met him halfway, standing so close to him that our noses almost touched.
Chests, too. His hand brushed mine, making my fists clench.
My shoe collided with his shoe. When his scent invaded my nostrils, I stopped breathing.
His body heat was unbearable, but I refused to back away because I was toying with the idea of head-butting him.
I wanted to see him bleed more than anything, and the look in his eyes, for once, corresponded to mine.
His gaze flicked to my mouth, and I reciprocated, when someone bellowed from a distance.
“Markland! Slade! In my office!”
Chief Bibb. Shit.
“I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m horny,” Maddox said, yawning. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be at the brothel across the street.”
Buck blinked. “There’s a brothel across the street?”
“Well, technically, it’s a nail salon, but don’t bother, Buck. You can’t afford those nice ladies, anyway.”
Jordan
“What did I say?” Chief Bibb bellowed. “No more arguing! No more bickering! How many times do I have to repeat myself?”
I bowed my head, staring at the breadcrumbs on the floor under the chief’s desk. I didn’t bother replying because this wasn’t the first time we had debated this subject, and I had nothing new to add. Adam, who sat in the chair next to me, looked equally uncomfortable. Why?
Chief Bibb was usually a chill guy. He was stern but fair.
A bit old-fashioned, perhaps, but he got the job done, and his colleagues respected him for it.
Still, whenever he got angry, his eyes would bulge in a way that reminded me of those creepy figurines everyone was buying for Halloween.
It was why no one liked to see him mad, not even the prick of magnanimous proportions called Adam “The Scarface” Markland.
“What am I running here?” Chief Bibb yelled. “A kindergarten? A boarding school for girls? A circus? How old are you two imbeciles? I’ll answer that. One of you is almost thirty, and the other one is way over thirty, which means you’re too old for this shit!”
I glanced at Adam, who was staring at the wall, his face impassive. As if he felt my eyes on him, he squirmed in his seat, looking as if he’d suddenly developed a rash. Well, fuck him, because the feeling was mutual.
“One more time,” Chief Bibb threatened, pointing a finger at us. “One more incident and I will make sure that you—”
When his phone rang, he answered with a shout. “What?”
I was relieved he wasn’t glaring at me anymore, but it hardly made me feel better. When I looked at Adam, his eyes were on me.
“Stop watching me,” he growled.
“You’re the one who’s watching me,” I said through my teeth, flinching when Chief Bibb slammed the phone down.
“There’s a robbery in progress on Sycamore Street,” he huffed. “Are you going to just sit here, or, God forbid, do something about it?”
Both Adam and I swiftly stood up, eager to escape his creepy eyes.
“Why aren’t the uniforms handling that, Chief?” I asked him, despite my better judgment.
“Because they’re not pissing me off. You two are.”
“Can I go with Buck instead?” Adam said when Chief Bibb slammed his fist on the table.
“Cut it out, Markland! You’re going with Slade, and that’s that. Keep pissing me off, and I’ll make sure you two spend every moment of every day attached to each other’s ass. After I’m done with you, you won’t know where one begins and the other one ends.”
I cringed. Adam gagged. Chief Bibb drank his green protein smoothie, and that was that.
One failed robbery later, I found myself in a car, waiting for Adam “The Scarface” Markland so that we could go home.
Why Scarface? As one would expect, because of the scar that ran from his temple to his chin, straight as if someone had used a ruler to shape it.
If it weren’t for that scar, you would probably call Adam Markland pretty.
Not like fashion models were pretty, or sculptures from art books.
He was handsome in a rugged, manly way that made him stand out in a crowd, and the scar only elevated it.
Everything about him was too much. His forehead was too high, his cheeks too sharp, his hair too dark, and his eyes too blue.
He was a list of imperfections, but put together, they made him look striking.
So, yeah, sometimes I stared at him, but only because I couldn’t figure his face out.
Other than that, he was a mountain of a man, as wide as he was tall.
He had the biggest hands I’ve seen on a person, and his fists could do serious damage.
How come my nose knows what his fist felt like?
Because sometimes Adam Markland made me lose it.
Fly off the handle. Go off the deep end… that sort of thing.
Usually, I had myself under control ninety-nine percent of the time.
I rarely overreacted, and I avoided conflict of any kind.
I seldom lost composure and preferred blending into the background.
As a rule, I got along with people, but for some reason, Adam Markland hated me from the moment he met me.
It was an anomaly that I couldn’t explain, and if I were being honest, something that bothered me immensely.
Why, though? Everyone liked me. Ever since I was a child, I’ve had my pick of friends.
My neighbors and my teachers praised me alike, and even the girls started noticing me while I was still a clumsy, shy teen.
My mother was a schoolteacher, and my father a decorated army lieutenant.
They got me after five miscarriages, so to say they doted on me would be an understatement.
They loved me and gave me everything a child could wish for, but more importantly, they raised me right.