Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
CASH
She's avoiding me. Kindred was quiet as I drove her back home this morning. It was very much a first for her, but I'm getting better at reading her. Her adorable ass was wearing my shirt and boxers as she sat in the passenger seat wiggling, unable to sit still, her cheeks flushed.
I debated following her into the house and getting my mouth on her again, but I wanted to let her wrap her mind and body around what happened.
Let it really sink in—all the things I would gladly do to her body anytime she asked—but I'm starting to see that asking might not be what she wants.
Based on the way she lit up when I ordered her to tell me what she wanted seemed to be exactly what she craved.
I want her sober and on the edge. That edge that makes dirty things pour past her plump lips and those pleas for more coming as easily as she had for me.
It won't be easy for me to let it build inside of her. My instincts are to soothe her, but I know this is what she wants. She may not even realize it yet, but I’ll do what I think is best or will bring my girl the most pleasure.
I thought it was hell keeping myself in check before, but now I know how she tastes and the sounds she makes as she comes.
I need more, but my girl gave me a wealth of knowledge on the things she desires, and I ate it up.
The same as I plan to do with her pussy again.
Only this time no silky white material between her pussy and my tongue.
“Fuck,” I mutter.
“What’s wrong?” Beckett asks from her desk. I keep forgetting she’s here.
“Nothing.”
“Are you going to the wedding?”
"Yes," I say as I pull up my previous camera footage on Kindred’s house to rewind and check when the camera on the left side of her driveway was moved.
“Me too.” That has me lifting my head to realize she’s gotten up to come stand partly behind me.
“You got invited?” Kindred isn’t a fan of Beckett, which has my own hackles rising about the woman. Kindred is sweet to everyone. While she can be prickly, she is still sweet but goofy. But it could be over the Tinsley incident.
"The whole town is invited."
"You don't live in this town," I remind her. She might be in the same county but not the same town. And yes, that makes a difference. These small towns outside of the city can be as competitive as high school football in Texas about things.
"Yet, but I ran into the mayor's fiancée, and she invited me." Beckett makes her way back over to her desk.
"Candy? Pregnant girl with the really blond hair?" If Kindred doesn't care for Beckett, that means she's also on Candy's shit list.
"Yes, she was with Mayor Hollis. He introduced himself to me outside of the diner this morning."
Kindred might be coming around. She often does that with people. It's endearing how protective she is over everyone. It shows you how fierce of a mother she'll be one day. She wouldn't run out on her child or even say a curse word. Kindred would rather die than ever harm a child.
I fantasize about seeing her as a mother running our home as much as I do about sliding my dick inside of her and coming home there too. Imagining her round with my child in the house I built to suit her dreams is not something I should be doing while I’m at work.
“Thought maybe I could catch a ride with you. Was planning on having a few drinks, so I don’t want to drive.”
“A ride? You don’t live here,” I remind her again. “How did you manage last night?”
“I’m staying at Mulberry Inn until after New Year’s. Hopefully by then I’ll have found a place here in town.”
That won't be easy. Not only will she have to find a place, but people who own homes in town also want to know the person and get a feel for them.
If she's on Kindred's shit list, she won't be getting one.
Now, there are Airbnbs, but they are set farther out of town.
I keep a list of them and know the owners.
Most live in the city but enjoy coming out here for a weekend or a month around the holidays.
"You'll have a better chance of finding something after the new year, as we start to head into our less busy season," I tell her. "I can’t give you a ride. I don’t know what all the plans are that day.” For all I know, Kindred might have a giant list of things she needs help with. Plus, she’s my date.
After last night, is she still thinking it’s her teaching me how to date and be with a woman?
“Oh, okay.”
I go back a week in footage to start. The camera is in the correct location. I click through each day until I find which day it was moved. When I hit day five, it moves. I start rolling the footage backward and find it.
Damn. I can’t see anyone, but I see the camera lift and then move a couple of feet before it’s put back into the ground. I could almost believe that maybe a person hit it, not realizing it was there until they did, and then tried to fix it, but this was at three o'clock in the fucking morning.
All of that to slash a tire? I don’t know what to make of it, but I hop over to a few other cameras and see if they possibly caught something in a corner.
I’ll take anything at this point, but there is nothing there.
I’ll have to get different cameras. These aren’t that noticeable, but they aren’t hidden either.
When people see security cameras, it is part of the deterrent to do anything. A lot of people put up fake ones. I’ll leave these and add a few others.
“You know we’ve met before.” I lift my head to turn in her direction. I had thought her face was familiar but couldn’t place it, which isn’t the norm for me.
“When?”
“You really don’t remember?”
“I meet a lot of people here.”
“It wasn’t here.” Beckett doesn’t elaborate more.
She’s waiting for me to ask the next question.
I won’t. If people want to tell you things, they will.
You don’t have to pry information out of people, and I’m not fond of small talk.
That’s where this is headed. I should send her out to patrol. "It was a funeral."
I lean back in my chair. That leaves two options.
It was a fallen soldier or my father's. Those are the only ones I have ever been to.
The one reason I went to my father's was so I could enjoy watching them lower his body into his grave, helping him get closer to hell, where he belonged.
There was absolutely no love lost there.
“It was my brother’s.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
She shrugs her shoulder. “Don’t be sorry. You tried to save him.” It clicks because of her last name. It’s not a good click either. I don’t have a clue how much she knows.
“Vincent.”
“Yeah.” She smiles. It makes her appear younger, but I still can’t place her in my mind. The funeral had been a good size. We hadn’t gone to pay our respects. A few others and I had gone to see which soldiers showed up.
Vincent was a traitor. The mission I went on wasn’t me being sent in to save him, though that’s what was reported. I was the one who put a bullet through his head. What are the fucking odds?
"I didn't know him."
"Think you would have liked him."
I think not, but how would she know? I don't know her either.
"Did you know who I was before you took this position?"
"I was taken aback when I heard your name. Crazy, right? I'm not one for fate and all. Vincent went into the Army, but when I was old enough, I entered the academy."
"Both good choices." Now I do feel the need to speak, but I'm not sure what to say.
"He was all I had left." Her shoulders drop.
Fucking hell.
I'm not too sure about fate and luck, but I start believing when my radio goes off, alerting me to a situation over by the Christmas tree stand, getting me out of this conversation.
"Come on." I grab my coat off the back of my chair and head out.
Dispatch said two men were fighting. I'm not worried about them.
No, I'm worried about a leggy blonde who will try to break it up and the possibility of her getting caught in the crossfire.
We both hop into my cruiser and head over to the other side of town.
It's not a long drive, but it's enough that a vehicle will be faster.
When I get there, I see two men shouting at each other. I keep my lights on and let the siren go off for a second. That often gets people's attention. Usually snaps them out of whatever haze they’re in long enough to break things up.
It does exactly that. Well, one of theirs. The one in the red coat turns to see, and the one in the leather coat takes that opening.
Fuck me. That's going to be paperwork. This shit is about to ruin my day.
"Don't!" I bark at the leather coat heading toward him. He swings around to face me, his ire now on me.
Then his dumb ass starts charging me. I stop walking and let him barrel toward me. If I touch him, that’s even more paperwork.
When he’s almost to me, I sidestep him, and he runs straight off the sidewalk edge, tripping. He hits the hard ground with a thud and rolls.
Leather Coat groans, sitting up and rubbing his jaw. “Put your hands up!” Beckett shouts at him. The man’s eyes go wide, and he lifts them.
“Put the gun down,” I bark when I see it in her hands.
“Oh God.” I would know that voice anywhere. Kindred breaks through the small crowd that has formed to watch the show.
“Nobody moves.” Beckett turns, her gun still in hand. Not sure if the movement caught her eye, but either way, she’s fucking stupid. I reach out, grabbing the top of the gun, and yank it out of her hand. I cock it back, and thankfully for her, there isn’t a bullet in the chamber.
That gun was turning toward Kindred. “Go stand over there by Rudolph.”
“Who?”
“Me,” Rudolph tells her. He owns the tree stand.
“Now!” Everyone takes a step back. I drop the clip out of the gun. “Neither of you get off that ground,” I tell them while walking back toward my cruiser to toss the gun in. I haven’t used a gun in all the time I’ve lived here, and Beckett is drawing hers like it’s a free-for-all.
“Hey.” Kindred walks over to me, her heels loud on the concrete.
“You get this crowd to move along for me?” I see the irritation in her expression. I know I need to get Kindred the hell out of here before she says something to Beckett. She’s not going to be a fan of her waving her gun around.
“I can do that.”
“Thanks, Cupcake.” She ducks her head, turning, but I see the smile and clock that it made her relax. Kindred does as I ask. If anyone can get them moving, it’s her. I see Beckett’s lips purse.
“Are you calm?” I ask the leather coat guy. He nods. “Then get up and get your ID out and stand over there.” I point to the front of my cruiser.
“Sir,” Beckett starts to say, but I cut her off with a look. I don’t want to scold her in front of half the town. That wouldn't be good for anyone.
“How about you? He knocked some sense into you?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“Then get up and get your ID out.”
“He punched me!” the man grumbles, getting to his feet. He pulls out his ID. I scan it, memorizing it before handing it back.
“They both took a few swings before you showed up,” Rudolph informs me.
“Where is your vehicle?” I ask the man who was assaulted.
He points across the street to a red truck.
“Yours?” I ask the other man, who is obediently standing where I’d told him to. He cringes at my question.
“We rode together. We’re cousins.”
“Give me your ID.” I take his too and do the same. “Both of you get the hell out of my county. Then get out of the truck and beat the shit out of each other for all I care.”
“Okay.”
“Yeah, we can do that.” They’re both eager to not be arrested.
“Now.”
“Right.” They both take off toward their truck across the street, not watching what the hell they are doing. A white car has to slam on its brakes to not hit them.
Two idiots down. One to go.