Papa
W aking up beside Carter was just as nice as going to sleep in his arms. When she opened her eyes, he was seated with his back against the headboard, reading something on his phone, the glow from the screen illuminating his handsome face and a small portion of the room.
“Good morning,” she said, still lying so close to him that their bodies touched.
“Good morning. I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“No, not at all. What time is it?” she asked as she stretched.
“Just past seven hundred.” He laid the phone on the nightstand, face-up and still illuminated, and he shuffled his position to lie beside her.
He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in as close as possible to his solid form.
Then he brushed his lips across hers and he pressed light, wet kisses over her cheek.
When his lips reached her ear, he spoke in whispers, his hot breath blowing over her ear.
“I really liked holding you all night.”
A rush of warmth filled Becca, especially her southern region.
“Umm,” she cooed from the pleasurable sensations his words, kisses, and warm breath brought.
“I liked waking to you here. Thank you for staying.”
“I’d never have snuck out while you were sleeping.” The light from his phone faded out, casting the entire room back into darkness.
He pulled away just a bit, reached and turned on the bedside light.
Then he wrapped his arms around her again, holding her tightly.
“I really like you, Becca. This is personal for me. This, holding you, kissing you, it’s not the job.”
His gaze held hers with a magnetic grip.
She couldn’t tear her eyes away.
She was glad he’d turned the light on so she could see him when he said that.
She reached her hand to his face and caressed his cheek.
“I’m not in the right place, emotionally, for a relationship, but I want to be,” she confessed.
“And I don’t want to miss out on something that could be great because of it.”
Was that what he was offering her, a relationship?
Yeah, he guessed he was.
He’d already surmised that she wasn’t a one-night stand kind of girl, so a relationship was the only option.
And same as her, he didn’t want to miss out on something that could be great, in his case because he stupidly wouldn’t try a relationship.
“I’m patient, Becca. I know you’re in a really bad place right now. I want to hold you, both of us, naked. I want to make love to you, but I won’t do that until you can be all in. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here. I’m not going anywhere.”
“You don’t know how much I appreciate that,” she said, so many emotions bubbling up inside of her.
He pressed his lips to hers again.
Taking in the amazing sensation of lying with her, holding her, kissing her.
This would have to suffice until she was in a better emotional place and ready for more.
He understood PTSD, had seen it in so many of his brothers.
He recognized it in her.
She may have acted as though the incident the other night hadn’t bothered her, but he saw the difference in her since it happened.
That, on top of the murder of her sister’s family, was more than enough to cause a bad case of PTSD.
They lay in silence, just holding each other for five wonderful minutes.
Then his phone buzzed.
He pulled it from the nightstand.
It was a meeting invitation from Shepherd.
He acknowledged the meeting.
“I’m sorry. I have to get up. I have a meeting with Shepherd in fifteen minutes to go over the Op to get the cameras and mics in Briana’s client’s house.”
“What time will you be out doing that?” she asked.
“Not until around ten hundred this morning. You’ll be fine here, right?”
“Yes, I know I’m safe here. What else can I do to help try to figure out what those men were looking for? Jesus Christ! They tore my house apart. It has to be something important.”
“I’m sorry that we are no closer to figuring it out than when you hired us. We have theories, but that’s it.”
“Is there anything else I can do to help?” she asked as he got out of bed.
“I wish there was,” he said.
He went over to the Keurig.
“I’ll make you a cup of coffee before I go.”
She pulled herself up from the bed.
“You don’t have to do that. I can make my own.”
“I’m making myself a quick cup too,” he said.
“I’ll take it with me to Shepherd’s office and bring the mug back after.”
“Okay, in that case, thank you.” She crossed over to and sealed herself in the bathroom.
He used it after her, grabbing a new toothbrush from the cabinet where a supply was housed.
When he emerged, he shot her a grin.
“My toothbrush is the blue one. I left it in the cup next to yours. Hope you don’t mind.”
***
At zero nine forty, the three vehicles the Shepherd Security Team were using were parked in the convenience store parking lot of the tiny strip mall one block from the home of Briana’s client, Simone Hoch.
Tessman drove a borrowed cable television company work truck, as did Jackson and Smith.
Tessman had no idea how Shepherd always secured anything the team needed.
All three of them even had valid ID identifying them as employees.
Briana drove a late model sedan with many dents and scratches.
It was registered in the name Chris Mack and Briana carried a valid Illinois driver’s license and insurance card in that name.
Shepherd guaranteed it would hold up to the local LEOs scrutiny after she crashed into Simone’s husband’s car.
“Now don’t forget to cut the wheel and hit his car with the tail end of your car so you don’t get hurt,” Jackson reminded her.
“Roger that,” she said.
“I’ll only be going thirty or so, so I’ll be fine.”
“Okay, Tessman, you go first as planned and make sure you’re in the street enough that her swerving to miss your vehicle is plausible.”
“Okay, I’m on comms,” Tessman said as he stepped towards the borrowed truck.
“Stay vigilant Briana. This guy might come out swinging.”
“I almost hope he does. I’d love to flatten his ass to the ground.”
Tessman chuckled as he opened the driver’s side door of the truck.
“Okay, we’re heading to the street behind theirs, so we’re ready to move in through the back,” Jackson said.
Then he and Smith moved towards the cable television work truck they’d be driving.
“Time your move, so you come up their street at exactly one minute after ten.”
Briana nodded.
Then she got behind the wheel of the sedan.
Tessman parked the work truck as planned, kitty-corner from Simone and Jacob Hoch’s home.
He glanced at the car parked in the driveway, a candy apple red nineteen seventies Camaro.
Holy shit. Briana was going to crash into that beauty!
Then his gaze went to the window over the garage, which Briana had advised was his home office.
He could make out a male figure sitting in front of it.
It was five minutes to ten.
Jacob’s regular weekly call always lasted until ten hundred hours.
And his wife said he then spent fifteen minutes going through the emails he missed while on the call.
He would be at his desk until at least ten-fifteen.
Tessman got out and put cones near his vehicle and approached the green utility box for cable television service.
He kneeled beside it and accessed the panel like a workman would.
“In position,” he broadcast through comms. He listened through comms and heard Jackson’s confirmation that he and Smith were in position at the rear of the house as well.
“Slowly making my way into the neighborhood,” Briana transmitted at ten hundred hours on the dot.
Tessman’s eyes flickered to the window over the garage again.
Jacob Hoch still sat in front of the window.
Tessman activated the video function on his phone and videoed the inside of the panel, his finger tracing a wire through the panel.
Then he shifted his gaze on the road, in the direction Briana would approach from.
At exactly 10:01, the sedan turned the corner.
She accelerated as she neared the work truck he’d parked.
She swerved, heading straight for the Camaro.
At the last second, she turned sharply.
The back end fishtailed, crashing right into the front bumper of the vintage car.
Its car alarm immediately screamed through the neighborhood.
Even with the upstairs window closed, Tessman heard Hoch scream, “What the fuck! No! My car!”
Tessman smiled, a small chuckle escaping from his mouth.
He sat his phone on the utility box and left the record function going.
He’d capture it all.
“Calling the police now,” Jackson transmitted.
A moment later, an irate Jacob Hoch burst through the front door.
“What the fuck?” His gaze fixed on Briana, who now stood near her car, which had bounced off the Camaro and stopped a few feet away.
“You stupid bitch! Look what you did to my car!”
“I’m so sorry. I over-corrected,” she said.
“Shut the fuck up! I don’t want to hear your whiney voice.” He examined the damage to his car, reacting with groans and expressions on his face, bouncing between outrage, anger, and disbelief.
He was very animated in his gesturing.
“I’m sorry. I have insurance. Insurance will pay to fix it,” Briana said.
“Fix it? Are you fucking serious? How fucking stupid does someone have to be to come into my driveway and hit my car? You’ll do more than fix it, sweetheart,” he threatened.
He raised his right arm, his hand in a fist.
“He’s getting physical,” Tessman transmitted.
He bolted upright and ran at full speed across the street.
Briana was ready for it.
As the fist was thrust through the air, she sidestepped it, grabbed his arm in flight, and propelled him towards the ground.
She braced herself, using her legs to block his, causing him to trip, his upper body following his fist to the blacktopped driveway.
Tessman hit the property just as Hoch, dazed but still mad as hell, pulled himself to his feet.
More curses flew from his mouth.
“Hey, man,” Tessman said as he came to a stop beside Hoch.
“Are you okay?”
“You saw that,” Hoch yelled.
“You saw that crazy bitch assault me!”
“No, I saw you throw a punch at her and I saw her deflect it. That was on you, man,” Tessman said.
Hoch’s hands were fisted by his side.
“Look what she did to my car!”
“Damn, that was a beautiful car,” Tessman said, wincing at the damage.
“I was working across the street and saw the whole thing.” He pointed to the work truck.
“I called the police and reported the accident. They should be here soon.”
“Jacob,” Simone Hoch called as she came out of the house.
“Is everything okay?”
“Okay? No it’s not okay!” He muttered, “another stupid bitch,” under his breath.
“Get me my wallet. This fucking whore came into our driveway and crashed into my car! My car!”
Simone hurried back into the house and reappeared seconds later, carrying a black wallet.
She rushed up to him and handed it over.
Then she craned her neck to view the damage to the car.
“Oh, that’s not good.”
“It can be fixed,” Briana said.
“Yes, yes it can,” Simone agreed.
“Shut the fuck up, both of you. Simone go back into the house. This is none of your fucking business.”
Tessman wanted to give this guy a good beat-down.
Someone needed to teach him some manners.
Hopefully, justice, in the form of jail, would be coming for him very soon.
“You’re pissed. That’s understandable. Take it easy, dude.”
Jacob Hoch was about to answer, no doubt with an angry comment, but the approaching police car stopped him.
The police cruiser, with no lights or sirens, pulled up to the curb.
The lone male police officer got out of the vehicle as Simone rushed back to the house.
She’d already let Jackson and Smith in before she’d brought the wallet out.
Tessman had heard that through comms. She’d remain at the front door, watching for her husband’s approach as they completed their task.
Tessman eyed his watch, marking the time.
They needed thirty minutes to adequately plant the cameras and mics.
He jogged across the street and grabbed his phone from the top of the utility box.
Then he jogged back with it in time to hear Jacob Hoch’s rant on how the stupid bitch hit his car and then assaulted him.
Tessman was glad to see the older cop was a no-nonsense guy who shut Hoch down pretty quickly, demanding IDs from both Hoch and Briana.
He also radioed for a second officer to come to the scene.
“I have it all on video,” Tessman said, holding his phone up.
“I was taking a video of an incorrectly wired switch when it kicked off over here. He handed his phone to the cop and hit play. As the cop watched it, Jacob Hoch radiated rage towards Tessman. Tessman found it odd he didn’t listen to himself on the recording and come to the same conclusion everyone else did regarding his temper.
“You were going to punch her in the face,” the cop said, dumbfounded after seeing it.
He turned to Briana.
“Do you want to press charges, miss?”
“Um, I don’t know. I mean, I did swerve because I lost control, and I hit his car. So, I know I’ll get a ticket. It was my fault, I admit that. He’ll get my name and address on the police report for the accident, won’t he?” she asked, acting fearful.
“So, no. I don’t want to press charges.”
The cop turned back to Jacob Hoch.
“Be glad you didn’t strike her, or the decision would be out of her hands with what I just saw.”
“I was wrong, I’m sorry. I was just so pissed. It’s a seventy-two Camaro! I just spent the last two years restoring her.”
“May I suggest you keep it in the garage where no harm can come to it?” the cop replied.
“Okay, so Miss Mack will get a ticket for the accident. And I’m warning you, Mister Hoch, if you threaten or harass her in any way, you will be arrested. You’re on my radar now.”
Just then, the second police cruiser pulled up.
The two cops worked on taking statements from all three of them and they wrote the ID info down.
“You have my information. Am I free to go back to work?” Tessman asked the cop.
“Yeah, go ahead,” the cop answered.
Tessman crossed the street and occupied himself at the utility box for fifteen more minutes while the cops finished up.
Finally, he heard that Jackson and Smith were done and had vacated the premises.
He stayed where he was until Briana drove away, followed by the officers.
Hoch still stood by his car, assessing the damage and winding himself up.
“All assets are clear of the scene, Control,” Tessman reported.
“Roger that, Moe. Control, dropping off.”
“Jax, are you still nearby?” he broadcast.
“Affirmative, just leaving the neighborhood. Why?”
“I have a really bad feeling. Can you watch the feed as he goes back inside? He’s still pissed. I think he may take it out on his wife.”
“What? You think he’s going to go in and beat her up?” Briana broke in.
“Yeah, I do,” Tessman said.
“He’s standing in the driveway winding himself up.”