Forbidden Protector Page 3

  There was something else that was egging me on, making me work with a sort of madness. Something no one had said outright. Something no one had to. Something that was in their looks, grimaces, silences.

  Something there would be no avoiding before long.

  4

  Chance

  On my walk that day, I spotted an old man with mismatching purple and orange suspenders worn as a necklace and a young woman with cream colored hair that looked like a poodle. There were quaint homes in unobtrusive brown rows and ravens circling ominously.

  I heard things too.

  Like the ravens’ eerily soft crowing, cars roaring past, one old one rumbling. A siren wailing high and horrible in the distance.

  I liked walking.

  By the time I saw the black sliver of a building, I was a good fifteen minutes early. Good. The sun had baked sweat down my back. I could use a quick shower.

  Hayes didn’t mention if there even was one – didn’t even show me the bathroom. This The building didn’t exactly seem like the type. Then again, bar didn’t seem like the type of place to have an owner with less than five incarcerations to his name. And yet when I’d looked Hayes up, he came up squeaky clean.

  I could change my shirt in the bathroom, at least.

  Old habits die hard – but I always brought an extra shirt with me because you just never knew when something might come up. That was the best part of being a cop – the not knowing. Some shifts were an ode to a glorious amount of donut holes, but then others you could save a life or end one.

  Until one day the not knowing spat out the worst outcome possible.

  Inside the club, my presence wet blanketed the talk. Leery gazes were swapped, then stuck on me.

  Sure, I’d had a decent first few shifts, but that didn’t mean shit to these guys.

  The message was clear: Game time.

  I headed straight through. There was only one hallway there – one place where the bathrooms could be.

  WHAM!

  Something smacked into my shoulder, bounced off.

  No, not something. Someone.

  I reached out and steadied her.

  The girl with the bright blue eyes curved with something that should have been surprise but wasn’t.

  I jolted away, further down the hallway and found myself in the men’s bathroom gaping at my reflection but not seeing it.

  No, all I could see was her.

  Eyes a freaky blue, face a heart sprinkled with freckles and lips that were luscious and full. She had red hair and a petite body that came barely up to my chest. And damn did she have dangerous curves.

  Fuck – what the hell?

  Who was she and why did I care?

  Clearly, it had been way too fucking long since I’d gotten laid.

  I screeched the tap on and cupped my hands under the cold water. I wiped the water onto my face, the back of my neck where heat collected for some reason. I wiped down my arms, my hands and then stripped off my shirt.

  But then I realized I was distracted by something a bit closer to home.

  I was hard as fuck.

  Blue Eyes was still there in my head, her scent too. Some weird noxious flower – magnolia came to mind for some reason. Not that I knew flowers for shit.

  My eyes closed. So easily, could I see it now.

  Me ending what had just happened very, very differently.

  My steadying hand turning into a clasping one, a steering one – bringing her back the way she came. Into the bathroom. Me right behind, into the room for what needed privacy.

  I snapped off the tap. No more of that.

  I had a job to do. No point in mentally jerking off to some chick I’d probably see minimally, if ever again.

  Back out in the bar, Hayes was waiting.

  “Heard you turned up – early to boot.” He was smiling like I’d just sold him some Girl Scout cookies or some shit.

  I shrugged. “Don’t get used to it.”

  He laughed, pounded me on the shoulder. “Think I’m really going to like you, Good Cop.”

  Guess I’d earned myself a little nickname already. Hayes jabbed a thumb back the way I came, where his office was, presumably. “You need anything, you give a holler.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I said.

  There wasn’t any other choice. No matter what kind of shit his boys tried throwing at me, I couldn’t go whining to the boss about it. That was the fastest way to lose respect on all sides. I didn’t become a top Pewter cop by crying to mommy every time some criminal tested me.

  All there was to do was to set up by the door and let the night begin.

  It started out slow. The guys already there kept on looking at me; I kept on ignoring them. Eight pm wasn’t exactly rush hour.

  Then all at once, they came. Big guys, little guys, women who looked like they’d love nothing more than to eat me up with a spoon.

  One boar of a man with black eyes so squinted they looked closed and a peaked slack jaw stopped and peered right in my face. “Now, what do we have here?”

  If he was trying to outglare me, then he had a long night ahead.

  “What does it look like?” I returned.

  His one eye closed completely. “Not sure yet.”

  I nodded. “Better keep it that way.”

  An indistinct grumble lumbered out of him, before he fucked off. Minutes later, he hustled back over, as if he’d finally got the meaning of what I’d said. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  I tapped the lower right of my chin. “Means you got some ketchup – right here.”

  A long, dangerous unfurling of silence surrounded me.

  Some fat guy waddled up, his double chins wiggling with high-pitched laughter as he slapped the big man’s shoulder. “Jesus Abe, don’t ya look in the mirror before leaving the house?”

  I had some more wise guy comments to deal with, then a grey-haired midget strode on up to me like he owned the place.

  “New guy, right?”

  I crossed my arms over my broad chest and looked down at him, not answering. “So, here’s the thing.” He sidestepped even closer to me, as if we were old buddies. I kept my body tensed for anything. “Rules are: You have to fight Big Bonzo.”

  His deep-set gaze went to the far corner booth out of the way, and mine followed.

  “Yo Bonzo!” another man roared. “Get your fat ass over here – it’s time!”

  Pointlessly, I thought of the girl. She’d clearly left, I hadn’t seen her since we’d run into one another. She hadn’t exactly looked like a club girl. Or any bartender either.

  Crash!

  It took me a good few stunned seconds for me to realize that the clatter was caused by a person.

  It didn’t take me long to spot the source of the noise – or to see that Big Bonzo’s name was an understatement.

  With a hulking mass that would put most sumo wrestlers to shame, he should’ve been named Really Fucking Insanely Big Bonzo. Even his head was monstrously sized, as if aware from the start to what proportions the rest of him would balloon.

  The midget’s bulbous lips were curved in a sympathetic expression as he shook his head. “There’s really no way out of it, I’m afraid.”

  Yeah, I’d wanted this job to crack a few skulls, but…

  Big Bonzo was here now, blinking stupidly, fists raised all odd, like he still had to learn how to use them properly.

  I needed to milk his pause for all it was worth, strike while I still could.

  I flashed out my fist once, then again – straight into his chin.

  My fist connected with something that had the consistency and stickiness of honey ham.

  A foul-smelling bellow and Big Bonzo crashed toward me. One massive hand crashed down on the top of my spine like a piano.

  Fuck.

  Everything went temporarily dark.

  I forced my eyes open but couldn’t force my body to stay upright.

  As I fell, I wobbled into a lunge and picked up th
e first thing my hands came into contact with.

  I swung the table into Bonzo’s bulk with a force that made him shriek. He wobbled a few times, then collapsed in a slobbering heap that sent the whole building shaking.

  “What the hell?” a voice inquired confused from the hallway.

  “Nothing,” someone called back. “Just initiation.”

  Some guys had strolled on up to pull Big Bonzo away, their glares unmistakable. The midget had his arms crossed over his surprisingly bulky chest, while he rubbed at his square jaw.

  I looked to him. “Let me guess – I was supposed to lose?”

  “Hm,” he said noncommittally, trudging away.

  Well, fuck that. I was there to do the ass kicking – not the other way around.

  By then, the bar was quiet, peppered with mutinous grumbling.

  “Anyone else?” I loudly asked.

  Another crashing noise indicated that Big Bonzo was back in his former booth, although not in at all the same condition.

  My gaze did the rounds. No less than seventeen different thugs who’d like nothing more than to bash my face in stared back. Maybe not now, maybe not soon – but eventually. When I was distracted, dealing with another situation. There’d be a hundred different times they could pick to make their move.

  Fucking hell.

  Could I really live like that for the next few weeks, maybe months? Never letting my guard down even a little, keeping one eye open when I slept?

  Unless I made my move first.

  “You like pizza?” I asked the closest guy to me, a guy with a Santa beard and Lucifer eyes.

  He tipped his head up like he hadn’t heard me, then finally muttered, “Yeah. What’s it to ya?”

  “Pepperoni?”

  The midget answered for him: “Nah – the meatza pizza’s where it’s at.”

  A series of voices joined in:

  “That has pepperoni in it, you idiot!”

  “Don’t forget the pineapple too!”

  “You shut it, Gary and you can shove your pineapples up your ass too.”

  “Make me, dickswipe.”

  I got out my phone, dialed up the number and loudly said, “Gino’s Pizza? Yeah. I’d like two larges – one meatza and one pepperoni with pineapple.”

  A smile crawled over my face. Honestly, I was fucking hungry.

  5

  Connie

  It happened in the back room. I was getting some extra napkins when the door whished closed behind me.

  “Hey.”

  I knew the voice was his, even though I’d never heard it.

  Just how I knew it was his hands gripping me by the waist the next second.

  “Imagine seeing you here,” his lips kissed my neck.

  He pressed himself into me and his erection dug into my ass. All of me swam with arousal.

  The next second, he’d twisted me around and held me there. Looked at me while I looked at him.

  I took in his black-brown wavy hair, honey brown glints of eyes. His face a collection of sharp angles, his mouth cruel, wanting. He stood with a tensed agility, his loose t-shirt still failing to obscure his muscles. His scent was fresh, almost stinging – something familiar and unfamiliar all at once.

  Above all, I knew that I would do whatever he asked.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked.

  His upper lip quirked – a smile?

  “You know.” Definitely a smile.

  He took me in one hand and pressed me to the wall with the other. The cement kissed the bare back of my neck. His hands went to my face, his eyes already there – looking, searching – but what for?

  Only when they stopped on my lips did I understand. My mouth parted of its own volition. His lips swept there.

  My eyes closed.

  This. It was always for this.

  And it was only when his sheet touched my bare legs that I understood. It wasn’t his sheet. Or his lips.

  I held the kiss a few seconds longer, greedily, even as I knew as soon as I opened my eyes, the spell would be broken.

  Even keeping my eyes clamped firmly shut wasn’t enough to keep reality out. The lavender Febreze scent of my sheets wafted in. My Harley alarm clock from Hayes ticked. I opened my eyes.

  Oh, shit.

  I forced my sleep-lazy limbs into a seated position and shook my head. How could I have such steamy dreams about a man I’d met only one time? My core keened. Yeah, one time… and it had been enough.

  One time to see that rugged, hard-cut face, those staring, hungry eyes. That toned body. One time to feel his commanding, steadying hand on me.

  Shit.

  Yeah, I was officially sexually repressed. Maybe I really should go back to Tinder.

  At any rate, that had to be the new guy Val was mooning over. And yeah, he was even hotter than described.

  I yawned, letting my lids flutter shut. If only I could shut off the excited buzz going on between my legs.

  I shuffled onto my side, purposely inhaled and exhaled. Slowly. Calmly.

  My hands drifted toward the warmth between my legs, pressing and rubbing it. My eyes snapped open. Ugh, clearly sleep was not in the picture right now.

  I got up and made a run for the bathroom. A shower sounded really good to me.

  I shut the bathroom door quietly – Annie sometimes woke up when I closed a kitchen cupboard door loudly, let alone a bathroom door in the next room.

  Inside the bathroom, I dimmed the lights and turned on the shower tap all the way to the hottest temperature and took off my clothes, letting the hot beads roll down my back and the tension ebb away.

  All my back-to-back work shifts, my lingering worries about not being there for Annie enough, about not being able to make ends meet rolled down my back and away. What was left was… well, him.

  He was in the shower with me. Getting up all close. “Did you really think you could get rid of me that easily?”

  His words were hot against my cheek, and his hand slid around and squeezed my bare breast.

  Oh, fuck.

  Of course I could feel the hard mash of his erection on my ass right now. His other hand slid around, grabbed my other breast, squeezed it too.

  And then, holding me tight, he entered me.

  We gasped with it, shook with it. And he slid out and back in again. Now we were shaking together, our bodies slapping into each other with the power of the need. He gave my ass a slap and I came, not even realizing I’d been clenching it inside me the whole time. My knees went weak and he pounded himself into me, arcing my orgasm higher.

  Until, ragged and wild, I felt him lose it, and pulse into me as I lost it completely.

  My lashes rimmed with wet, my fingers pressed deep into my clit, it didn’t matter that this was another weird fantasy. All that mattered was that the pleasure was real. I really was coming.

  I sank to one knee, then the other, my fingers still swirling around my clit, my fantasy playing itself out – us, on the shower floor trembling, groaning together – until the bitter end.

  When I opened my eyes and remembered.

  I snapped the water off grudgingly. Back to reality. Where I most definitely was not hooking up with hot bouncer guy. I hadn’t even said two words to him, after all.

  At least I wouldn’t be seeing him on a daily basis. I worked mostly days, him nights. Hopefully.

  As I finished toweling off the backs of my legs, I straightened up. I was definitely awake, still flush from coming.

  Sleep was definitely not in the picture anymore, but, maybe, just maybe…

  My stomach let out a sad whine.

  Yeah, cookies never hurt anybody, right?

  As I wrapped the towel around me and went back to my room to change into some fresh PJs, I had to giggle. That phrase – ‘cookies never hurt anybody’ sounded exactly like something Mom would not be pleased with. She already claimed that I spoiled Annie rotten and that I should go to the gym more.

  But I liked making cookies, it had
been a while since I made cookies and damn it, I was the Mom here, not her. Not anymore.

  Downstairs in the kitchen, just turning on our antique oven brought a covert thrill through me. Not in the least because sometimes the damn thing just didn’t turn on.

  Another downside of living on a budget – sometimes, when one of your ‘gently used’, hand-me-down antique appliances doesn’t turn on, sometimes you have to suck it up and use the Salvation Army toaster you got.

  I got out the peanut butter, flour, sugar, and other ingredients needed and, halfway through, decided to make some peanut butter pancakes too. I was just through the first batch of pancakes, when the distinctive patter of little feet grew close.

  “Mom!” Annie’s messy red pigtails still swayed as she skidded to a stop on the linoleum floor. “You’re making pancakes!”

  “No.” With my spatula, I picked up a pancake and wiggled it at her. “These are just poofy cookies.”

  My freshly baked batch of peanut butter cookies was safely tucked away in the surprisingly nice Christmas porcupine-print tin my brother had got me a few years back. Safely out of reach of Annie’s voracious little hands.

  Annie squinted at the pancake, then planted her feet harder on the ground and shook her head. “That is a pancake!”

  The smile broke free of me. “Ok, ok, you got me. How many do you want?”

  “Ten!” Annie was already halfway to the table.

  “Five.” I shot back.

  “Eight!” She negotiated.

  “Zero.”

  Annie slung herself into her chair so hard it rattled. “Mom.”

  “Ok, ok, five.”

  I transferred five to a porcelain plate, set it out with some cutlery.

  “Mom!”

  It was funny, how many different versions of ‘mom’ Annie had in her range already.

  “You made the happy ones,” she crowed.

  I sat down at my own seat, pancake-laden plate in hand, before lifting one of my pancakes, chocolate chip smile more or less intact, and wobbling it Annie’s way, saying in a pancake-y voice, “What do you mean?”