“This is Emma,” I say. The line is quiet for a long moment. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Emma.” I recognize Tina’s voice.

  “Hey, Tina,” I say back. Sam’s brows pull together, just as shocked as I am that Tina is calling me. “There something going on?” Again there is a long pause. I stand, slipping over to the passenger seat and point for Sam to get in the driver's seat. I can sense it. Something is wrong. “Where are you? You and Brittany still live in that blue house on the corner of Mayfield and 21st?”

  “Yes,” she responds. “Please don’t call this in over the radio or whatever. I can’t get Brittany to go to the hospital, but I want someone to at least look her over.”

  “All right. We’ll be there in a few minutes,” I tell her before I end the call.

  “What’s going on?”

  “No sirens,” I tell him as he starts the ambulance and pulls out of the parking lot we’ve been sitting in. He heard me say the location already, so I don’t have to tell him. “Park around the corner. I don’t want the ambulance sitting in front of their house.”

  “Got it.”

  “Something happened to Brittany, and the last person I saw her with was Blake before I left the bar, but it was early.”

  “Careful, Emma, we don’t know what’s going on yet.”

  “Something they don’t want going out over the radio. Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to put that shit together.” He nods in agreement.

  It doesn’t take long for us to get to their place. I grab my bag and cut through the backyard and go to the deck door to knock. Tina slides it open for us.

  “Thank you for coming. I’m just worried she’s got a concussion or something,” Tina says as I follow her through the kitchen and stop when we get to the living room. Brittany is sitting on the sofa. She lifts her head, and I can see the marks on her neck. Her eyes are already swelling up.

  “Please don’t call the police. There is nothing to report. Things just got out of hand. He can get rough and doesn't know his strength,” Brittany rushes to say before I can utter a word. I know who the he is without her having to tell me. We all do. The unspoken name hangs in the room all around us.

  “Not going to call anyone, but let us check you over.”

  “Swear it.” Brittany’s eyes fill with tears. A knot forms in my throat, but I push it down.

  “I swear it.” Her whole body relaxes at my words. I walk over, placing my bag down on the floor before sitting down on the sofa next to her to do what I can.

  My little games with Chief Blake Finley are about to take on a whole new level.

  CHAPTER 13

  VINCENT

  After Emma leaves for work, Mrs. C makes good use of her free labor, and by that I mean she has us hauling things. We help clean out the back basement where things have been stored since the '70s. Maybe earlier. I don’t even recognize half the items we lug up the stairs, but one’s an old washing machine that her great grandma used to have. It’s not electric but a wash basin with two rollers attached at the top. When I asked what it was, she explained it was to wring the water out of the fabric.

  I think she’s trying to keep us busy so we don’t fight. My suspicions are confirmed when she sends us to clean an already spotless car.

  “How long are you gonna be mad at me?” I ask as I wipe down the clear windshield. Mr. C takes good care of his belongings.

  “How long are you gonna be panting after my sister?”

  “Can we have a fistfight? I’ll let you get in a few hits and we’ll drink and be done with this.”

  He clamps his mouth shut and disappears to the other side.

  “I’m not gonna do anything with your sister that she doesn’t want done to her,” I say.

  His head pops up. “You can stop talking any minute.”

  I frown. “You should be glad it’s me and not some random dude around town. You’ve always said no one here is good enough for her.”

  “That wasn’t an invitation for you to hit on her. No one here is good enough for her and neither are you. And don’t give me any crap about her being grown up. She’s my baby sister, she will always be my baby sister, and she’s your sister too because you’re supposed to be my brother.” He shakes an angry finger across the roof of the car.

  I have zero fraternal thoughts toward Emma, that’s for damn sure. “So if I married her, would you refuse to come to our 25th wedding anniversary party because she’s still your baby sister?”

  He swipes an arm across his forehead and adjusts his hat, contemplating my question for a few seconds. “Guess it depends.”

  I blow out a frustrated stream of air. “I was going to ask you to explain, but I think it’s only going to piss me off.”

  He doesn’t get to respond because at that moment Emma comes careening to a stop in front of the house.

  “Men fucking suck,” Emma spits out as she slams the door to her Neon Leaf.

  Frank’s eyes bug out. “Not all men.”

  She whirls on her brother. “All of them, including you”—she jabs her brother’s chest—“and you.” Even I’m not saved.

  “What’d you do?” snarls Frank. He throws down his rag and starts toward me.

  Emma shoves him—not very well—backward. “He didn’t do nothing. He’s just existing just like all you penises.”

  “Bad day at work?” I guess. Emma’s an EMT. She’s bound to see shit that hurts her spirit including men beating up women.

  “Is Melody okay?” Frank interjects. His brain went from Emma’s bad day to Melody being injured, and I don’t know how he got there.

  “She’s fine as far as I know. Why? You hear something? Because if you did, it didn’t come from me,” Emma warns.

  We both blink at her in confusion. She shakes her head. “Never mind. I’m not all there today.”

  “I’m going to check on Melody.” Frank reaches over and pulls Emma’s purse off her shoulder. “I’ll put gas in your car on the way home. And you”—he points to me with Emma’s bright pink purse shaped like some kind of oyster gripped in his hand—“you stay in the basement.”

  I bust out laughing both at his ludicrous demand but also because he just looks funny as hell in his half-soaked navy blue T-shirt and the pink seashell purse waving at me.

  Emma mutters a disgusted “Men” before heading toward the side door. I ignore Frank since I know his attention is distracted and catch up with Emma before she enters the house.

  “Come on.” I capture her hand in mine. “Let’s go for a walk. Your momma is napping. She cooked all morning and then had to supervise Frank and me. It was tiring work.”

  “I bet.” Emma heaves a sigh. “Fine. I should let off some steam before I go inside. I don’t want to worry Mom or Dad.”

  “You can tell me,” I invite, tugging her down the driveway and onto the sidewalk. I don’t let go of her hand. It’s a new experience for me—walking hand in hand with someone. I like it. I like it a lot.

  Emma’s silent for a long time, but I don’t speak. She’ll talk when she’s ready. We walk down the sidewalk under the canopy of trees that have grown big and thick over the years. Small ranch houses much like the Charles’ place sit back from the road. One has a flagpole out front. Another one has a basketball hoop in the driveway. Yet another has a profusion of flowers and bushes. Emma’s town is a nice one. You could raise a family here, pass dishes between the neighbors, hold cookouts in the backyard.

  “What are you thinking?” she asks.

  “That I’d like to live here. It’s quiet, but there’s still a lot of life in this town.” I point to the kid’s bike that’s lying on its side next to a pair of roller skates in the middle of the sidewalk. We make a detour onto the street and then back on the pavement. “I’m a city boy. I grew up in a high-rise. My playground was on the 14th floor where the pool and fitness center were. There was a game room, a party room, and even a movie theater, but there wasn’t any community there. No one used it. Everyone went to their private clubs and did their own thing. People here have connections.”

  “Not all connections are good.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  She clenches her jaw. “Wish I could but it’d be a violation of confidentiality. Plus, it’s a delicate situation. Just know it has to do with a bully.”

  There’s only one man that I have run into that fits that description—Chief of Police Blake.

  CHAPTER 14

  EMMA

  Vincent idly talks as we walk. His life is so different from mine or my brother’s. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to live in a big city. Part of me thinks that it might be exciting. I bet I’d be on the move at work then. There would be no sitting in parking lots waiting for calls. Then again, how many calls could I handle if today is weighing on me so heavily?

  It’s crazy to me how lonely Vincent makes it sound to live in the city. I don’t think I could hack it. The more he jabbers on, the more I find myself relaxing. His voice is calming. There’s something soothing about the low masculine tone he uses.

  “How’d you do it?” I finally ask, cutting in when he starts going on about some bagel place he enjoyed back home that’s super famous 'cause they ship in water from another state to make them. Sounds strange, but I know he’s looking for things to fill the silence 'cause he can see it’s calming me.

  “You have to build a wall. I know it sounds cold, but you don’t have a choice if you want to do what needs to be done.”

  “You make it sound easy.”

  “It’s not, and sometimes when you least expect it something will pierce right through the steel armor you created.”

  “That happen a lot?” I know he probably can’t tell me much. The same as I can’t really speak to him about what happened with Brittany today.

  “Kids always get to me. When that innocence gets ripped away from them, it’s heartbreaking to see. But I’m luckier than most. I get to be in the sky. I didn’t have to face it the way the men on the ground do. The way you likely do.”

  I reach over and grab his hand, tangling my fingers with his. I peek out of the corner of my eye to see him smile. For the first time since I got that call today, a bit of the heaviness lifts from me. Vincent made it possible with a mere smile.

  “Thankfully we don’t get a ton of calls like that one. I’m not sure I can build that wall. I think my heart might be too soft.”

  “I don’t think you should. Not here. This place is different. You’re different. Don’t let anything change that.”

  “You’re not such a badass, Vincent,” I tease, bumping my shoulder with his.

  “I’m sure I’ll fuck up one way or another. You’re kind of fickle.”

  “Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “See, I’ve already done did it.” He chuckles. “I only mean you’re soft and sweet but tough too. I never know what I’m going to get.”

  “So what you’re basically saying is that I’m unreliable?” I lift a brow, glancing his way.

  “Call it whatever you want, sweet thing.”

  “Isn’t that a bad thing? For me to be all over the place?” I’m not so sure I’d enjoy that in a lover. I’m not a big fan of unpredictability.

  “Nope, I think it’s why I’m so drawn to you. I enjoy not knowing what I might get. It gives me a thrill when it comes to you.”

  “So it’s all about the thrill? I thought it was about getting laid,” I tease, or at least I try to make it sound as if I’m joking. Vincent stops walking all of a sudden, turning me to face him.

  “First off, last night was not about getting laid. Secondly, that’s not the only part I love about you. When I don’t know what I’m going to get, it keeps me on my toes. I have to adapt and read your mood so that I can make my move.”

  “A move to get laid?”

  “A move to get you to melt in my hands.” His hands go to my ass to pull me into him before his mouth comes down onto mine. He doesn’t have to demand I open my mouth for him this time. I do it on my own, wanting Vincent’s kisses. As pissed as I was when I drove home today, I was happy that I knew he was going to be here. I was hoping he’d be the distraction that I needed.

  “Ahh, Emma got a boyfriend!” a teenage male voice shouts. I groan, stepping back to see Timothy sitting on his bike with Paul next to him. Great, this is going to be all over town in a matter of minutes. Do I hate that, though? To be honest, not really. Then maybe some of the girls around here will know to back off without me having to say it and give Vincent a big head.

  “Timothy, you better keep that mouth shut or I’ll tell your mom about what I saw you doing over at the skatepark.” Both Timothy’s and Paul’s eyes widen. It’s one of the perks of sitting around waiting to get calls; you see and hear a lot of things people don’t want you to. That might not be the case here, but they don’t need to know that.

  “We didn’t see nothin’.” Paul speaks for both of them before they take off on their bikes down the street.

  “What did they do at the skatepark?” Vincent asks.

  “I have no clue.” I laugh. “They’re always over there, so I’m sure at times they get up to something they shouldn’t.” I shrug my shoulders.

  Vincent shakes his head and lets out one of his deep chuckles. Even his laughs turn me on.

  “The more time I spend here, the more I want to stay,” Vincent drawls. A spark of hope blooms inside my chest. I snuff it out. How does he keep doing that? Getting these sparks to light up inside of me.

  “You wouldn’t get bored? Thought you were always after that adrenaline rush.”

  He takes my hand and turns us back around to start heading back toward home. “Life changes, and with that, the things you want in it change.” I swallow, trying not to read too much into that. “Your brother took off, and your mom is napping,” Vincent points out as we draw closer to the house. “I remember someone agreeing that I got a taste whenever I wanted. And I could use a snack.”

  “Vincent.” I elbow him in the side.

  “You enjoyed every second of last night. Told you I’m a quick learner.”

  “You’re so full of it.” I roll my eyes. I find it hard to believe that was the first time Vincent went down on a girl, but I find it even harder to believe that he’d lie.

  “And soon you’ll be full of me.” He gives me a gentle elbow back. I know he’s only teasing me back, but my sex clenches as I grow wet between my thighs. Still, I burst into laughter at his corny comeback, realizing what Vincent has done. Only a few minutes with him and my mood has changed. I’ve never really had anyone that’s been able to soothe me the way he does. Or maybe it’s that no one ever made the effort to do it.

  I’m starting to think Vincent could be more than a fling. Hell, he could be my perfect match. If he doesn’t break my heart. If he does, I’ll have to break his face.

  CHAPTER 15

  VINCENT

  The house is quiet when we get back. I can hear Emma’s breath, slightly uneven as if she ran back instead of walked. Her hand twitches in my grasp. She’s nervous.

  “Upstairs or downstairs?” I ask, letting her make at least one decision before I get her into a bedroom. She presses her lips together and gives me an uncertain glance. I smile and give her a slow, hard kiss. “You leave it to me, baby.”

  I scoop her up and carry her down the stairs. “While it’s exceptionally dirty for me to fuck you in your girlhood bed, I don’t relish getting interrupted, so we’re going to play down here.” I set her on the bed and roll her socks off.

  She wiggles her toes. “Have a foot fetish?”

  I massage the balls of her feet and watch as her eyes roll back. The smile drops off her face, and she moans lightly. “Never mind. I think I have the foot fetish. Don’t stop.”

  “If I keep rubbing your foot, I can’t kiss your pussy.”

  “I thought fighter pilots were talented at doing more than one thing at one time. Biscuit always brags about how you’ve got eyes on the back of your head.”

  “Maybe, but I’ve only got two hands and one mouth.” I set her foot down and move to her shirt. “And my hands and mouth want to kiss your tits. Arms up.”

  Her immediate obedience sends a thrill down my spine. I’m so fucking hard right now I could pound a rivet into the side of my plane with my cock. “Hand on my dick, baby. Please,” I add the last bit to show I can be nice even though my mind is empty of basically everything but tits, tits, and pussy.

  “God, you’re huge,” she breathes as her hand molds around the bulge in my jeans.

  I back off immediately and turn around so I can’t see her anymore, and she can’t touch me.

  “Hey, I just started,” she says.

  “Yeah, well, it’s going to be over in about five seconds if you continue.” I stare at the ceiling, crack my neck a couple of times, and wait until the urge to ram into her until I’m blind subsides. Flight jockeys aren’t known for their hand-eye coordination but situational awareness and massive self-control. When I feel like I’m not going to explode with the simplest touch, I turn back. Emma’s sitting cross-legged with her luscious tits free. I push her back to the mattress and cup her globes, moving from one nipple to the other until both nubs are hard and pointed.

  She trembles and wraps her legs around my torso, raising her hips to find relief. “Oh, Vincent, please.”

  “I got you,” I murmur. I unzip her pants and push them to the floor. The scent of her arousal drives me crazy. I push my long fingers inside of her and attack her clit. She comes almost immediately, in loud gasping breaths. The sounds, the smell, the feel of her are driving me insane. I need to be inside her.

  “I want more,” Emma pleads. She looks at me from under wet eyelashes. There’s a tear under her eye. She came hard enough that she cried. I swipe the salty liquid off with my thumb and then lick it off. Her pussy convulses around my fingers still clutched inside her tight channel. Her cunt makes a wet sucking noise as I withdraw. I eat that juice up, too, watching her while I do it.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9