The law of deceit, p.5
The Law of Deceit, page 5
Aisha comes running to me while talking into her radio. She motions for me to move my ass. I give Kaden a quick wave and then we race out to the car as she fills me in on our call.
Three-vehicle accident on Main Street.
As we rush to the squad car, I pass by a shiny red Porsche that’s parked in the chief’s spot. I make a note to have it towed later if it’s still here when we get back. The police station is near Park Mountain Bank & Trust and we often have people park in our lot if the bank’s is full. It’s an annoying pet peeve of mine and I take satisfaction in having them towed if they outstay their welcome.
“How much do you think they pay him anyway?” Aisha asks as we get settled in the car. “I mean, they’re not paying us that well.”
I drive past the parked Porsche with the new paper tags on the back. “That’s Tanaka’s?”
“Yup. Saw him drive up in it this morning.”
“Hmm,” I utter under my breath.
Something is up with our chief and I’m not crazy for thinking it. Perhaps I’ll have a little investigation of my own.
Today has been a day from hell for car accidents. You’d think the people of Washington had never seen rain before. Tara texted to let me know she’d take care of feeding Kaden since I never made it back to the station. I feel like a terrible aunt making promises I can’t keep.
When I clock out for the day, dead on my feet, Kaden waits by the front door, eyebrows furrowed. I can tell he wants to ask about going to Nadine’s but must see the look of pure exhaustion on my face.
“Still up for our diner date?” I ask while stifling a yawn.
His lips curl into a grin. “Yup. Tara made me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch. Not exactly filling.”
Teen boys and their bottomless pit stomachs.
“At least you got lunch,” I tease, elbowing him. “I ate some peanut butter crackers Aisha had stowed away in the glovebox. I’d kill for some onion rings about now.”
We chat about how his day went for the fifteen minutes or so it takes to get to Nadine’s Diner. It’s always busy morning, noon, or night. Cheap, decent food within walking distance of two apartment complexes and three neighborhoods. I haven’t been here in years, so when we pull into the parking lot, I’m hit with a sudden bout of nostalgia.
So many days I used to sit in one of the empty booths, working on homework and dreaming of a better future for myself. I finally got where I wanted to be, but until I made it, I wanted to give up so many times.
Unlike Jamie, I didn’t have a knight in shining armor to swoop me off my feet and save the day. I had to earn it myself, fighting tooth and nail along the way.
Before I can psyche myself up to go inside, Kaden flings himself out and all but runs to the front door. I groan at his enthusiasm and quickly follow after. The bell chimes when I push through. Kaden is already sitting at the counter and picking up the menu. Lucy is on the phone, taking an order, but is grinning at her younger brother.
When did she get so grown?
Rhiannon made beautiful babies, that’s for sure. It may have been the only good thing she’s done in her life.
Lucy ends her call and then lets out a yelp of excitement at seeing us. She hugs her brother and then hugs me before I sit down. Her golden tresses are pulled back into a high ponytail that looks cute on her.
“Long time, no see, Aunt Sloane,” Lucy says, smiling so wide her jaw has to ache. “Grandma said you were looking after my brother. Thank you.”
At least I know Mom got my messages. It would have been nice to get a response.
“You guys must be cramped living in Grandma’s house,” I say as I sit next to Kaden on a barstool. “Where do you sleep?”
She winces at my question and I know I’ve already screwed up. I sound like a suspicious cop and not like a caring aunt. Lucy presses her lips into a firm line and pushes a menu at me.
“We all manage. What’ll you be having?”
Kaden orders enough food to feed an army, which makes Lucy glance at me with a questioning look. I nod to let her know it’s fine and then add in a cheeseburger, onion rings, and root beer for myself. She slips away to pass our order on to the cook and to make our drinks.
“You’re cool once you spend time with you,” Kaden assures me as he gives me the side-eye. “Lucy will come around.”
I relax at his words. I’m a terrible aunt, I know, but at least Kaden is learning that I’m at least trying to be a good one.
Lucy does return and is once again smiling. I let the siblings do all the talking in an attempt to keep from screwing up again. Questions pile up in my mind, but I refrain from asking every single one of them. Thankfully, once our food has been delivered much later, Kaden asks her what I want to know.
“Have you talked to Trevor?”
Lucy scowls as if her older brother is standing right in front of her. “No, but I’m surprised you haven’t.” She glances my way, but then the anger quickly turns to guilt. “I’m sorry. He’s just too much like Lenny for his own good.”
That makes my hackles rise.
Lenny is a piece of shit.
“Is he using?” Kaden asks, voice soft. “Is that why he’s been being a dick?”
“I’m guessing so.” Lucy frowns as she absently scrapes a glob of ketchup off the countertop with her thumbnail. “I was tired of them all. Grandma may not be perfect, but at least it’s peaceful at her house.”
Peaceful?
Growing up, my house was far from peaceful. Dad was a cruel drunk. Mom drank to put up with him. Together, mixed with their on-again, off-again long-time lover, Jim Beam, they’d nearly bring the house down with their fights.
Nothing was peaceful.
Dad still lived at home with Mom when I got out of there at eighteen. It was constant chaos even then. He eventually went to jail and his violent tendencies landed him a long, cushy sentence in a penitentiary upstate. He’s been serving time ever since and won’t be up for parole for another few years.
Is Mom happy now or does she miss the forever drama?
As curious as I am to know those answers, it’s not the most important thing at the moment. Right now, I’m more worried about Trevor.
“Should I visit Trevor?” I ask, hating that I’m back to cop mode. “If he’s using or even dealing, he’s setting himself up for trouble.”
“You would do that?” Lucy asks, hope brimming in her eyes. “I mean, he would hate me for wanting you to check on him, but I’m worried about him.”
She’s not pissed?
I glance at Kaden, who wears a matching expression. For once, I don’t have to be the bad cop. Maybe I can be the good one plus a good aunt too.
“Of course,” I promise. “Do you have any idea where he’s been staying or who his friends are?”
“He’s been hanging with some uppity kids. A couple of them work at Park Mountain Lodge. They party nonstop but spend time ‘working’ at the lodge when they need money.” Lucy sighs when a customer walks in. “Dinner rush is about to hit. Thank you, Aunt Sloane.”
“For what?”
“For caring.”
That’s something I’ll never stop doing with these kids. I will keep caring about them even when they don’t want me to. I have a feeling Trevor definitely doesn’t want me to.
Tough luck for him.
Dempsey
“Coffee?” I grumble for the fifteenth time as I lace up my combat boots. “You woke me up for coffee? Isn’t that like an oxymoron or something?”
Gemma smooths out her long dark hair before wriggling her pointy cat claws at me. “Don’t pretend you didn’t sleep through English and actually know what an oxymoron is.”
Ignoring her, I make a pass through the bathroom to fix my hair and brush my teeth. She stands sentry by my door with her giant Louis Vuitton handbag that matches her fingernails so precisely it’s scary. Knowing my sister, she probably did that on purpose to show her followers how stylish she is. That influencer shit she does seems exhausting.
“I’m driving,” I tell her as I snag my chain wallet and hook it to my belt. “If I’m being forced out of bed to get coffee with you, then I at least get to drive the damn car.”
Gemma, with her model-runway face already made up with lash extensions and whatever else bullshit makeup that probably took her three hours to apply, glowers at me. With a frustrated huff, she lobs the keys at me, nearly taking out my fucking eye.
“Mean,” I say with a grin. “Always so mean.”
She softens and shrugs. “You bring out the best in me. What can I say?”
The thing with Gemma and me is that no matter how different we are or how much I resent her place in our family over mine, we always will be friends. She’s been my go-to person since before we could speak. If there was trouble to get into, we did it together. When we became teenagers, that all changed because Dad watches her like a hawk, but we still manage to maintain that friendship okay.
Mom is cleaning all the old silver at the dining room table when we make our way downstairs. Her hair is pulled back in a messy bun and she’s not wearing a stitch of makeup. She’s also wearing her messy housecleaning clothes. We have a house cleaner, but she likes to clean it first so it isn’t so dirty for the maid. Again, I think that’s an oxymoron, but according to Gemma, I may have that confused because she’s right, I did sleep in English.
“You two are up bright and early,” Mom chirps, grinning over at us. “My sweet babies are driving now.”
I bite back the fact we should’ve been driving two years ago, but it’s not necessary to start wreaking havoc this early in the morning. Plus, my beef is mainly with Dad, not Mom. I’ll save my smart-ass comments for him.
“We’re going for coffee. I’m bringing stuff back for Willa and Tate. You want anything?” Gemma asks as she digs around in her purse for something. “I’ll need your credit card, though.”
I snort out a laugh and Mom smirks at me. Gemma always has an excuse to use our parents’ credit cards. I’m pretty sure the purse she’s wearing was one of those times.
“Nah,” Mom says with a chuckle. “Just use your account. If you need more money, text Dad.”
Texting Dad to refill our accounts between allowance time usually comes with a lecture about money management and responsibility. I would rather cut off my own foot with a pocket knife than have to sit through one of those. Apparently, Gemma feels the same.
“It’s fine,” Gemma grumbles. “I’m getting paid tomorrow for that ad I did for Sparkles Gems and Fine Jewelry.”
Gemma makes money, she just doesn’t like spending it.
“I’ve got you,” I assure my sister, even though we both know she’s got a shit ton more money than I do. “Since you’re letting me drive and all.”
Her grin is vibrant and blinding. “That’s why you’re my favorite brother!”
Mom waves at us as we head into the garage. Her Mercedes rarely sees the light of day since she’s mostly a homebody and rides everywhere in Dad’s car. I wonder if I can talk her into giving Gemma her car and I can keep the Tahoe for myself.
The twin connection must be buzzing with electricity because Gemma looks over at Mom’s car like it’s an aging minivan and says, “Ew, no. Never. It’s a mom car.”
We both crack up laughing as we climb into the vehicle. Dad pisses me off with this whole car shit, but this vehicle is nice. I’d love being able to drive it around all by myself and go wherever the hell I please. Maybe one day.
He’s been more bearable once I agreed to enroll at PMU. Of course he doesn’t know my reasons for doing it, but he was pleased nonetheless, which got him off my back.
The drive to town isn’t quiet. Gemma, the passenger princess, has already hooked her phone up to the stereo and is playing something obnoxious from her playlist. I’m able to tune it out because I have something better to think about.
Sloane.
Always Sloane.
That woman is never far from my mind. Last night, I drew what I thought she might look like with her shirt hanging down just low enough to expose her nipple. It was so fucking hot that I immediately jerked off, making a huge-ass mess. Shame had me deleting that artwork so fast off my device, though.
Who the hell does that?
Before I can make myself feel any worse than I already do, we’re pulling into the coffee shop that apparently the whole damn town loves. We decide to hit the drive-through rather than go in since it’s madness inside. When we reach the speaker to order, Gemma climbs across the console to yell out her three orders.
“Anything for you?”
A sudden impulsive thought comes to mind.
“Two caramel macchiatos,” I blurt out. “Please.”
Gemma frowns at me in confusion as she settles back into her seat. A nervous buzz of energy pulsates through me. I just ordered Sloane a drink. What now? I’m just going to show up and bring it to her?
Fuck.
And now Gemma is watching me with narrowed eyes, trying to use her twin powers to read my mind.
“It’s for Sloane,” I say to put us out of both our misery. “She likes the same thing as me.”
Gemma’s sculpted eyebrow hikes up her forehead. “Since when do we bring Mom’s bestie a coffee?”
I shift in my seat, avoiding her stare. “Since now. It’s called being nice.”
“Nice,” she repeats. “Interesting. You do remember she’s a cop, right?”
“Yeah, smart-ass. And I haven’t done anything wrong. We’ll drop it off on the way back home. Stop making it a big deal. It’s not a big deal.”
Oh, it’s a big fucking deal.
“None of my business,” she says, waving her manicured hand at me. “Carry on, Romeo.”
Heat creeps up my neck, but I don’t satisfy her with an answer. She can assume I’m crushing on Sloane all she wants. It’s not like she’ll ever be validated with the truth. I’m not telling a fucking soul about this. Even Tate has tried to pry the information out of me and I won’t budge.
We pull up to the window where I pay and then fetch our crazy amounts of coffee. The girl at the window flirts with me, making sure to lean out the window to give me a nice view of her cleavage. I’m sure this works on most guys. Not this one. This one is still obsessing over the tits he drew last night.
Gemma observes everything quietly, which makes my skin crawl. Ignoring her scrutiny, I drive toward the police department. I’m jittery, even without the coffee, wondering just how bad of an idea this is.
The station is jam-packed with cars, but I find a spot up front. It’s marked “Chief,” but it won’t matter since this’ll take a second.
“Wait here,” I instruct, shooting my sister a death glare. “This will go faster without you.”
She sticks her tongue out at me. “What if she’s not there? What then?”
I don’t reward her with an answer as I climb out with Sloane’s coffee in hand. If she’s not here, I’ll toss it in the trash. Actually, that’s preferable since I don’t want to humiliate myself.
“Dempsey?”
As I walk inside, I see a familiar face behind the front desk. Kaden grins at me, as though happy to see me. This, at least, doesn’t make me feel like a total tool visiting one of the places I hate the most. I saunter over to him and offer my fist for him to bump. He returns the gesture before nodding at the coffee.
“For Aunt Sloane?”
My cheeks heat. “Yup. She probably doesn’t want it—”
“Are you kidding?” he hisses. “She’s a witch when she has to drink the coffee in the breakroom.”
The other woman behind the desk sniggers along with Kaden. “You’re a lifesaver today, hon.”
She points to where Sloane sits at her desk, head bowed and brows furled together in concentration. A tendril of blond hair has slipped from her immaculate bun and teases along her jawline. My fingers itch to stroke it back into place for her.
“I heard you were in need of saving,” I say in a forced, easy greeting. “Your savior has arrived.”
Sloane jerks her head up, confusion marring her pretty features when she sees me. Then, her eyes skate over to the coffee. A huge grin curls up her tempting lips and she lets out a girly squeak of delight.
“Oh my God! Dempsey, I love you!”
Several men in suits—probably detectives—glance our way. Meanwhile, I’m trying hard not to pull her words deep into my soul and take them as truth—as everything. Sloane rises from her chair and accepts the coffee from me. Our fingers touch, sending thrills of pleasure rippling through me.
“We were already there and this place was on the way,” I explain, my tongue tangling in knots. “I just thought it would be nice.”
Her eyes close as she inhales the aroma. Then she takes a sip before giving me the most rewarding groan of pleasure. My mind immediately goes to scenarios where my tongue has her making those sounds.
Fuck.
I’m losing control.
“Sit for a second,” she says, pointing at the seat across from the desk. “How is everyone?”
Right. Mom’s bestie. She wants the obligatory family checkup.
“Mom’s cleaning silver, Dad’s working, me and Gemma are all signed up for college.”
Her eyebrows lift in surprise. “You’re going to college?”
Her words strike me, feeling every bit like the loser I am. A flare of anger spikes in my chest. Anger at me, at Dad, at her. Mostly just me, though.
“Yup,” I clip out, irritation in my tone. “Shocker, I know.”
“Oh,” she mutters and then curses under her breath. “I’m so sorry. Sometimes things come out worse than I mean them. I just didn’t realize you liked school. I thought maybe you’d do something with your art, is all.”
Her explanation soothes my embarrassment. Maybe she doesn’t think I’m a total tool bag.
“Students can enter this art expo they’re doing,” I tell her with a genuine smile. “So maybe I can kill two birds with one stone.”
Blue eyes bore into me, studying me closely and more intensely than ever before. I want to squirm under her gaze, but despite feeling awkward, I like being here. I like any part of her on me, even if it’s only her eyes.
