Rock point collection, p.39
Rock Point Collection, page 39
Her phone rings on the counter and she leaves the eggs on the stove to check the caller, immediately placing the phone facedown on the counter again.
“Are you ever gonna answer her calls?”
Bella has been avoiding her mother, who’s tried calling a multitude of times.
Stubborn. Something else I figure as a family trait.
“When I’m ready.”
I grab her hand, which is wielding a spatula, and pull her away from the stove and into my arms. My mouth cuts her off mid-protest as it covers hers. She goes rigid in my arms, but when I rub a hand along her spine—something I’ve discovered she responds to—she relaxes, kissing me back.
“Morning,” I mumble against her lips.
“Let me go. You’re making me burn my food again.” Her words are testy, but when I do as she asks and she turns back to the stove, she does so with soft lips and a pretty blush on her cheeks.
There’s been a lot of that since she surprised the fuck out of me in bed yesterday morning. Me touching or kissing her, and Bella blushing as she tries hard to hold onto the prickly persona she likes to display.
I get it. There are moments I feel exposed, and my instinct tells me to hide in my digital world, so I imagine it’s no different for her. Habits are hard to break, especially when they’ve become a shield you protect yourself with from the world.
She did end up calling the number Luna gave me, and I was surprised at how forthcoming she was with this Dr. Patterson over the phone. It had been enough for him to make room in his weekend to see her right away on an emergency basis. She’d balked at first, but conceded eventually.
By ten, we were on our way to Aztec. I dropped her off at the therapist, before heading to Safeway with a grocery list she’d prepared on the drive down. I do my own shopping ‘off the cuff,’ basically throwing in my basket what looks good at that time, so shopping with a very specific list was a bit of a challenge. By the time I got back she was already waiting outside, face a little blotchy and clutching a prescription in her hand.
I didn’t ask, but she shared a little on the way back to Durango, said he seemed nice and had persuaded her to try a new low-dose medication, with a minimum of side effects, to help stabilize her.
Leaving her to her cooking, I open my laptop on the coffee table to check emails. I’d sent one off last night to Keith, with a list of police arrests and incidents for the past twelve months I had flagged for him to look into. There’s an email back from him, saying he’s on it and to call him when I have a minute.
“You’re up,” he says when he answers my call.
“And you sound like you haven’t been to bed in a while,” I fire back.
These past few weeks have worn on the man. Everyone wants answers: the chief, the mayor, the victims’ families, and since the shooting last Wednesday there’s the added pressure of the press hounding him.
“Not really,” he admits, sounding exhausted. “Let me find a quiet spot. Hang on.”
I wait until I hear the background noise fade, and the sound of a door closing.
“You asked me to call?” I prompt.
“Yeah. Sorry, I need some privacy for this. I’m in my office now.” His words pique my interest. “I have my guys working on the list you sent me, and I’d like you to go further back, maybe do one with anything you can find two to five years back.”
“Okay.” I’m not quite sure why he had to lock himself in his office to ask me that.
“You’ll find an incident that probably will raise all your flags, but I want you to leave it off the list. A traffic stop that went wrong in the spring of 2013.”
“Have any more for me to go on?” I ask, when no further information appears forthcoming.
“I’m putting my job on the line telling you this much.”
“Why do you want me to leave it off the list?” I ask, suddenly uneasy with the request.
“Because I want you to look into that one quietly. Not sure if it has anything to do with this, but I can’t have it shoved under the rug again when I’ve already lost two guys.”
“All right, what if it does turn out relevant? I won’t keep anything quiet then, you know I won’t.”
“I know, which is why I’m asking you. Look, I’ve gotta go. No emails on this, and to answer your question, if the incident turns out to be relevant, it’s about fucking time the lid came off. If not, then it’s up to your office what to do with what you find.” He ends the call before I can respond.
A little pissed, but mostly intrigued, I immediately sign into the police department’s reports and start looking through 2013. It doesn’t take long for me to find it.
I’m just about to start reading when Bella calls me for breakfast.
“This stuff has some serious bite,” I comment, my mouth full of huevos rancheros.
“Too hot for you?” Bella tosses me a teasing grin.
“I can take any heat you dish out, Squirt,” I shoot back with a wink, which has her return a dramatic roll of her eyes.
Breakfast is interrupted by the ringing of my phone. Ryan’s name pops up on the screen. Bella sees it too and raises an eyebrow in question.
“Morning.”
“Ditto. How is she?”
I look at Bella, who has a storm brewing on her face. “Sitting right beside me with a face like thunder,” I tell him bluntly.
Ryan chuckles. “Better then,” he deduces.
“Getting there, but why don’t I hand you over to her, you can ask her yourself?”
Bella almost snatches the phone from my hand, and proceeds to tear a strip off her partner, while I turn my attention back to my plate.
Bella
“I’m not a child, you know. I’m more than capable of speaking for myself, so if you want to know how I am, fucking ask me.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Jasper grin around his fork. I’ll get to him later.
“I don’t need to ask now,” Ryan answers, an annoying smile in his voice. “I can tell just by listening to you.”
“Quit being a smartass, Ryan. I’m not in the mood.”
“Aunt Flo coming for a visit?”
I grind my teeth, my partner has a finely honed sixth sense for PMS, which he claims is imperative for survival in his family. He has a sister, a wife, and two teenage daughters. I think it was the second month I was riding with him that he asked me if I was on my period. I almost slugged him, but he explained, being a man, he couldn’t be held accountable for pissing me off, if he didn’t have fair warning. He actually keeps a calendar on his phone. Weird for sure, however, as I’ve found out since, he’s one of the few people who actually doesn’t piss me off. Guess it’s working for him.
“You know damn well she is,” I bite off.
“Good, then by the time you’re scheduled to come back to work, she’ll be good and gone.”
“What do you mean by the time I’m scheduled to come back? I’m good to go now.”
“Bella,” Jasper growls beside me, but I wave him off and take my call to the living room.
“You’re bored. That doesn’t mean you’re ready to come back. You should know the difference. Have you seen someone yet?”
I throw an accusing glare at Jasper, who just shrugs and shoves another forkful in his mouth. “I see you two have been talking behind my back.” I don’t bother softening my scathing tone. I’m allergic to being managed.
“If you mean, have your boyfriend and I stayed in touch after sitting by your bedside, watching you withdraw from life before our eyes? Then yes, we’ve been fucking talking behind your back. Not because we don’t trust you, but because we care and are affected by what is happening to you.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I return, trying to deflect. It sounds petty—even to my own ears. I know Ryan doesn’t patronize, nor would he say anything derogatory about me, and neither would Jasper. I don’t know a whole lot, but I know that. I’m not being fair to either of them.
“Coulda fooled me,” Ryan says casually. “Has he been there every night since Wednesday? Sleeping in your bed?”
“I don’t see how that is—”
“Has he, Gomez?”
“I guess,” I give in meekly, having been put in my place.
“Then he’s your boyfriend. Get over it, he seems like a stand-up guy.”
“He found me a therapist in Aztec. Took me to see him yesterday.”
“See?” Ryan comes right back, hammering his point home. “A good guy. Not a douchewipe like Scott with the limp dick, or that other creep back in Farmington. Good things can happen to you, Gomez. You just have to believe it.”
I’ve got nothing to say to that, so I don’t. Jasper looks at me curiously and I give him an embarrassed little smile.
“I should get going. The girls are waiting for me in the car. Going to see the in-laws; pray for my soul, theirs are beyond saving.”
When Ryan ends the call and I drop my phone on the table, I look up to find Jasper crooking a finger at me.
“Come here, Bella,” he prompts when I don’t move right away.
“What?” The attitude is moot, since my feet are already heading in his direction. I walk straight up between his knees and into his arms, pressing my nose in the hollow of his neck. He smells good.
“Want to go on a date with me?”
“A what?” I tip my head back to look at him.
“A date,” he grins. “We kind of jumped over that part, and I wouldn’t be much of a boyfriend if I didn’t take you out at least once. Tell me something you’ve always wanted to do but never got around to?”
“Vegas?” It flies out without much thought. It’s true, I’ve always wanted to experience Vegas, but it’s not something you do on your own.
“That’s a vacation, I’m talking something around town. Something we could do on the spur of the moment. We’ll save Vegas for after this case is resolved. Why don’t you think about it? Fuck.” His eyes are focused somewhere behind me when he curses. “We’ve got company.”
I hear the sound of a key turning the lock and swing around to see the front door open.
Fuck indeed.
-
A goddamn invasion, that’s what this is.
I should never have given my mother the spare key she insisted on. I could’ve prevented myself a scene just like this.
“Isabella, maybe you should put some clothes on?” is the first thing out of my mother’s mouth, as her critical eyes scan first me—and then the rigid form of Jasper behind me—including his arm which is anchored around my waist. I’m still prancing around in my nightie, and he never bothered putting on a shirt.
Papa steps inside behind her, toting a suitcase, the sight of which has my stomach ball up in a sudden cramp. His eyebrows shoot up when he sees us. I can only imagine the picture we make, half-naked.
“Be right back,” I mumble, wiggling my way out of Jasper’s hold, I grab his hand, pulling him behind me into the bedroom.
“This is a nightmare,” I hiss, closing the door behind us.
“I’m guessing you should’ve answered her calls,” Jasper comments dryly, yanking a shirt from his overnight bag and pulling it over his head.
I freeze with only one leg in my yoga pants.
“You think that would’ve made a difference? You don’t know my mother, she’s relentless. Where are you going?” I ask in a panic when he reaches for the door.
“Get dressed, Squirt. I’m going to say hello to your parents.”
Before I have a chance to warn him about the viper pit he’s about to step into, he closes the door firmly behind him. I struggle into my pants, grab the first shirt I find, and yank a brush through my tangled hair. No more than two minutes, and already I can hear raised voices.
When I rush into the kitchen, I find Jasper calmly making coffee. My parents, however, are nose to nose in my living room.
“She’s my baby, a mother can sense when there’s trouble,” Ma hisses at my father, who does his own version of the eye roll.
“She’s clearly not a baby. I told you to knock first when we saw the truck parked out there, but you just couldn’t help yourself. Isabella is a grown woman.”
“She needs me,” Ma insists.
“She looks like she’s doing just fine without you, Carmella.”
I feel Jasper step up behind me, his hand comes to rest on my hip and his warm breath brushes my cheek.
“Want me to grab the hose? Just say the word.” I bite down on a chuckle at his whispered words, as my parents battle it out in my living room—at my expense.
“Coffee?”
Jasper’s offer draws their attention, and in the next moment, I find myself folded in Mama’s arms, pressed against her chest. She’s is tall, much taller than my five two, even taller than Papa. Texas-born, and yet more Mexican than most Mexican mothers I know. It’s all about the food and the nurturing—those two go hand in hand—but it’s also about attempting to control the whole family. That’s something Papa usually lets her get away with, but clearly not today. He may look like a pushover, but he may well be the only match for my mother.
“Ma,” I plead, trying to untangle myself. “I can’t breathe.”
She lets me go, but then sets her sights on Jasper.
“Does Damian know you play with his baby sister?”
“Ma!”
“Carmella!” Papa and I exclaim at the same time.
“It’s okay,” Jasper says calmly, throwing a wink in my direction before turning to Ma. “He will, although, I have a feeling it may not come as a complete surprise. Bella and I together may be a new development, but we weren’t exactly strangers before. I’m pretty sure this was bound to happen at some point, circumstances just sped up the timeline.”
“Circumstances?”
“Ma!” I try again, and this time she turns to me.
“What circumstances, Bella? I call, you sound horrible. You say you’re under the weather, but I hear these things about shootings, and all I can think is my baby is out there. You won’t talk to me. What are you not telling me?”
My eyes shoot over to Jasper for rescue, but all he does is walk over, tuck me to his side, and give my shoulder an encouraging squeeze. I have a choice, I can play it off as work-related stress—but that will only enforce her position that I should find something more suitable to do—or I admit to my problem.”
“I’m on medication for depression, Ma.”
Her response is almost funny, it’s so predictable. Her eyes shoot immediately over my shoulder to Jasper, and I know she’s worried what he might think.
“Everyone feels a little blue now and then. Nothing a good meal and a mother’s love can’t fix,” she comments with a fake little smile, more to him than to me.
“This isn’t something you can fix with your chili rellenos or a hug, Mama. I struggle every day, and what makes it worse is not being able to talk about it because it shames the family.”
Her eyes shoot to me and I’m surprised to see both shock and fear, when I was expecting anger and disappointment. “Isabella, you can always talk to me.”
“Really? Because I’ve tried and you end up brushing it off; telling me I have to get thicker skin, make better choices. You say I should trust you to know what’s best for me—but, Mama—you’ve never once trusted me. None of you have.”
Jasper
“Greene.”
Of course my phone has to buzz, right in the middle of a showdown between Bella and her mother. I try to surreptitiously fish it from my pocket to check the caller, but Mr. Gomez catches me.
“Take it. I’ve got these two,” he mumbles from the side of his mouth.
“Be right back,” I whisper in Bella’s ear, as I release my hold on her, but I doubt she even hears me. Her dad takes a step closer, and his calm nod assures me she’ll be fine, as I step outside on the front porch to take Luna’s call.
“I may have a lead,” she gets right to the point. “A small shooting range up in the mountains, just north of town. Off Junction Creek Road. It’s on the property of the Arrow’s Edge MC.”
From what I understand, the motorcycle club has been around for a few decades, and mostly keeps a low profile. I know Damian looked in on them when he took over the La Plata County office, but the last run-in those guys had with the law predates the legalization of pot in 2012. You see the guys sometimes, they own a few businesses in town they check in on, all legal as far as I know. From what I gather, most of them are veterans who had trouble adjusting to civilian life.
“Take Dylan?” I suggest.
“Max has soccer practice.”
“Shit.”
Normally Luna doesn’t need anyone holding her hand, and I know she resents having to call in for back up, but MCs are a brotherhood. A men’s club. They can be testy when law enforcement comes knocking, let alone in the form of a woman no bigger than a sprite.
“Sorry, Jas.”
“No, you made the right call. You at the office?”
“I am.”
“Give me twenty minutes and I’ll swing by to pick you up.”
“Sure thing.”
Inside, the mood has shifted some. I find Bella and her mother on the couch, deep in conversation, while her dad keeps a close eye from the kitchen, where he’s doing the dishes. I walk over to him.
“I’ve gotta run out. We’ve got this case—”
“I know, the cop shootings. Go. Carmella came prepared to stay a while if she was needed. No holding that woman back when she has her mind set on something. We’ll stick around. You go get that pendejo off the streets.”
“About Damian—” Again, the older man stops me, raising his hand as he shakes his head.
“You sort whatever needs sorting with my son when he gets home from his honeymoon. It’s not our business.”
“Much appreciated.”
I offer my hand, which he clasps tightly, pulling me toward him.
“Told you my youngest is a handful. Glad to see you’re made of stern stuff.”
