ARRESTED: A Stepbrother Cop Romance (4 page)

5

CORY

I’m at Hudson’s bar
on Fourth. I arranged to meet Simons, my partner in all things law enforcement,
for a beer. It’s been a shitty week overall, and I need to blow off some steam.
I order us both a drink and we take a seat at the bar, watching the sports news
that’s playing on a flat-screen in the corner.

           
“Why
the fuck did you pick this place?” Simons asks.

It’s a good question. The bar’s a dive,
with sticky floors and a pervading smell of the toilets wafting from the back.
The men in here are definitely not our usual crowd. I’m wearing a baseball cap
pulled down low to avoid the risk of being recognized. I’m sure I’ve arrested
at least one of the guys in here.

           
“Wanted
a change of scene.”

Simons looks at me suspiciously. He knows
I’m a creature of habit. In most towns, the cops have their haunts. Ours is
across town. The thing is, it does get a bit tired when you constantly see the
same people and hear the same shit, day in, day out. That’s not the reason we
are here, though.

           
Mr.
Douchebag, Jackson’s fucking asshole father, is the reason we’re here. If I
told Simons that, though, he’d flip out. We’re off duty and I’ve got no
business trying to hunt down perps out of official time.

           
I
glance over my shoulder, taking a swig of cold beer, scanning the crowd.
There’s no one that I can see who looks like the idiot in the wedding picture.

           
“This
place stinks like ass,” Simons says wrinkling his nose.

I snort. “Smells like
the locker room at the station.”

“True.”

“Anyway, we’ve got
beer, we’ve got sports and we’ve almost got conversation.”

“Fuck you, Carlisle.”

I punch Simons on the
shoulder affectionately. We’ve been friends since I started the job and he’s a
good guy. Honest to a fault, decent morals, straight as an arrow. He’d hate
what I’m intending to do.

“I didn’t know you
felt that way about me,” I joke and it’s his turn to snort.

“Trust me, you’re
nothing like my type.”

“Tits too big for
you?” I make my pecs jump up and down and he shakes his head in disgust.

“Dude, what the
fuck?”

He’s fighting not to
laugh which makes me smile. At the station, the other cops are always joking
that we’re like brothers. I guess we take our work seriously in the same way.
There’s a time for jokes but not when you’re dealing with the serious shit our
job throws at us.

“I like big titties.”
Simons delivers that line totally deadpan and I nearly snort beer through my
nose.

“Fuck, man. Who
doesn’t?”

I get a flash of the
last amazing pair of tits I saw this week. That Allyson sure had a fine rack on
her, and she knew it, sticking those things out like they were her armor
against the world.

“I stopped this woman
for speeding this week,” I tell Simons. “She was driving like she was being
chased.”

“Yeah.” He puts his
empty bottle down and waves down the barman, indicating two more of the same.
“You book her?”

“Nah. She was sorry
so I let her off with a very stern warning.”

“Oh yeah.” Simons
narrows his eyes at me. I can almost hear the cogs of his suspicious police
brain in motion. “How sorry was she?”

“What kind of fucking
question is that?”

“Listen, Carlisle.
Before you get all indignant and shit, you’re the one who took the conversation
from big titties to a speeding woman, to letting her off with a warning. I’m
the one sitting here wondering what the link is?”

I shake my head and
laugh. “She had really amazing…eyes.”

“Oh yeah.”

“Yeah.”

“So it was her eyes
that caused you to let her off with a warning.”

This whole
conversation is one big joke but there’s something about what he says that
niggles me. We can joke about this shit. If he’d asked me straight out why I
let her off, I’d have probably said because she was so sassy and her little
walk along the line had made my dick hard. But now that I think about it, I
knew I wasn’t going to give her a ticket from the moment I looked into that
car. Her knuckles had been white she’d been gripping the steering wheel so
tightly and she had real fear in her eyes. The way she’d been driving, it was
as though she was trying to get away from something bad.

After a few years on
the job I can smell real fear, and I can tell who’s bullshitting. Allyson might
have been playing a little flirty game with me. She tried to use her best
assets, and she had plenty, to get me to let her off. But it was what I saw
before she turned on the bullshit that made me lenient.

“Yeah. You know I’m a
sucker for a pretty pair of…eyes!”

“Aren’t we all.”

I grab my fresh beer
and take a swallow. There’s a rowdy shout in the corner of the bar and I turn
my head instinctively to see what’s going on. There’s a guy in the corner who’s
obviously telling some bullshit story in a drunkenly loud voice, his arms
flailing to emphasize. Even though all I can see is his back I get a funny
feeling in the pit of my stomach. My dad calls it cop instinct. Maybe he’s
right. I turn on my stool, waiting to see if the obnoxious meathead will turn
around. As his hands come into view again, I can see his knuckles are split.

Fucking piece of
shit.

Simons seems to sense
that something is going on with me because he stops talking about how
unprofessional I am, letting titties affect my judgment. He follows my gaze to
the guy I am convinced is Jackson’s punch-happy father.

“What you looking at,
C?” he says quietly.

“That loud mouth fuck
over there. I think he was the perp in a domestic I dealt with yesterday.

“Oh yeah.” I know
Simons is putting two and two together and coming up with the perfect answer.
“That's why we’re drinking beer in this shithole?”

“Maybe,”

“C,” he says in a
tone that warns me to stand down. “The wife, has she pressed charges?”

“No.”

“Do you think she
will?”

I shake my head.

“So what? You’re
planning to arrest him anyway. While you’re off duty?”

I shake my head
again.

“You planning to warn
him off then?”

“I don’t know,” I
say, anger surging to my fists. I imagine them making contact with his ugly
face, bone crunching against bone, flesh splitting under the force of my
righteous anger. I want to show him how his wife felt when he decided to show
her who was boss. I want to see him on his knees, begging for mercy like I’m
sure she did.

“You got this under
control?” Simons asks. I know he’s asking if I can rein in my temper.

“Yeah, man.”
Douchebag is laughing at his own joke and a few of his buddies’ smile. He turns
to grab his beer from a tall table behind him and I finally get a look at his
ugly face.

It’s definitely him.

I slide off my stool
and put my beer on the bar. “C…” Simons warns again.

“I’ve got this,” I
tell him, striding across the bar.

When I get up behind
Jackson’s dad I put my hand on the back of his neck. It’s a friendly move and
he looks back at me in surprise.

“Hey,” I say, as
though I’m greeting an old friend from high school. “Can I talk to you for a
minute? It’s about your wife.”

I see his eyes flash
at the mention of her. His shoulders go tense and I grip into his flesh,
needing him to understand who is in control of this situation.

“What you talking about?”
he slurs. He’s obviously well on his way to drunk and disorderly.

“I don’t think you
want your friends to hear what I gotta say.”

His eyes register and
I see him clench his fist at his side. Whether he’s remembering what he did or
gearing up to punch me in the face, I have no idea. I’m ready for him, whatever
his intentions.

I press the back of
his neck and he reluctantly allows me to move him away from his group of
friends. Wasting no time, I bend down to deliver my message directly into his
ear.

“I know what you like
to do to your wife, you fucking piece of shit. I’ve seen the inside of your
house. I know what it looks like after one of your rampages. You fucking hurt
your wife or your son again and God help me, you’ll never use your hands again.
Do you understand me?”

He doesn’t say
anything for a few seconds as he takes in what I’ve just said. I know he’s
trying to work out who the fuck I am. For a moment, he looks like he might spit
out some sort of snide retort but I’m looming over him, breathing menacingly,
and he seems to find some sense in his bone-head.

“Nod if you
understand what I’m telling you.” He nods. “Understand this. I know where you
live. I know where you drink. If I need to track your ass down it won’t take me
longer than five minutes. I’m gonna be driving past that nice little house you
got every few days, and if I see a mark on your wife or your son, your feet
won’t touch the ground. Now get on back to your moron friends and keep your
hands to yourself.”

Jackson’s dad looks
like he might explode at any second, shoulders high and tight, fists balled,
but there’s no real courage in him. If I was smaller and meeker he might have
tried to best me, but I’m not, and he doesn’t.

“Fuck you!” he
mumbles as he walks away and I grab him by the arm.

“You got something to
say, big man?”

He doesn’t look at me
but pulls his arm away and retreats quietly this time.

I watch him go, then
return to my stool, picking up my beer and downing it in one.

“Fuck it, let’s get
out of this shithole,” I say to Simons.

“I thought you’d
never ask.”

I leave, feeling like
a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. If there is one thing I can’t stand,
it’s when the perps get the best of me.

6

ALLYSON

Angelo's
looms ahead of me on the right, for some reason looking foreboding instead of
its usual welcoming sight. The scent of Italian cooking wafts through my open
window making my stomach grumble. Nerves fight with extreme hunger as I pull
into the parking lot, snagging a spot towards the back of the restaurant. All the
worry about Drew, and meeting Jeff has stolen my appetite for most of the day.
I hope once the initial introductions are over I'll be able to eat a full
portion of Chicken Parmesan and some dessert. The cheesecake here is supposed
to be amazing.

I
throw the car into park, press the button to put the window up and get out of
the car, straightening my skirt and smoothing my blouse. I’ve tried hard to
make the right impression tonight, for mom. My nerves are buzzing so I take a
deep breath and hold it, so conscious of the deep and fast beating of my heart.
I shouldn’t be this nervous but I can’t help it. I don’t want to let Mom down
by opening my big mouth and saying something stupid. Drew’s criticisms loom
large in my mind.

There’s
no getting out of it, though.

I
press the button on my key fob to lock the doors but before I can turn towards
Angelo’s, a clean, woodsy aroma fills my senses and the air surrounding me
seems to get warmer.

"I
hope you weren't speeding."

Oh
god, that voice. Low, deep and smooth as chocolate with that hint of husk that
had me almost drooling. Though I can hear the grin in Officer Carlisle’s voice,
I still panic. Was he following me on my journey from campus? I don’t think I
was speeding excessively but I probably went over the limit a couple of times.

I
spin around to see the man who’s invaded my fantasies these last few days and
kept me going in an indirect way. The uniform is gone of course. Tonight Mr.
Good Cop is wearing black dress pants matched with a crisp white shirt that is
open at the collar. He's still grinning at me; the grin I’d so desperately
wanted to see the other night. There’s no girl with him and I think I see a
spark of attraction lighting his eyes. I can’t believe that I’d run into him,
tonight of all nights. There’s so much riding on this meal. First impressions
count. It’s like my ghosts are following me.

But
it’s not all bad. Officer Carlisle’s is just as sexy as he was in my fantasies
and a whole lot cockier it seems. "Guess you'll never know," I say,
tossing my hair over my shoulder and then gripping my purse to still my
trembling hands. I consider the uncomfortable truth that fear and arousal can
often spark the same physical reactions in me.

"Maybe
not,” he says, his voice getting closer as he leans in. “But I'm pretty good at
deducing."

I
glance back at him and he’s smiling knowingly. What’s he trying to say? That he
knows that my speeding the other night wasn’t a one off. Is he accusing me of
being reckless? Or is it something else? I eye him, trying to size up his
meaning. He draws in his bottom lip like he’s thinking about kissing and I
almost do the same.

God.
If I did that he’d know I’m attracted to him. I’m so transparent.

A
flash of my fantasy chooses just that moment to surface – the part where he
pushed his cock inside me - and my cheeks immediately feel hot. Thank goodness
he isn’t a mind reader.

I smile
and take a step closer, looking up at him challengingly. “I’m sorry you have
such a bad opinion of me, Officer. I promise I’m not usually such a bad girl.”

He
leans in until our noses are almost touching, holding my gaze. “I don’t think I
believe you, Allyson.”

I
smirk at him, not moving, heart pounding as he seems to drift even closer. All
it would take would be one stumble and I’d finally get to feel those soft, full
lips. “Is that your cop instincts talking?”

He
slowly shakes his head. “I’m off duty.”

His
soft brown eyes flash with mischief and dark promise and I wish I could stay
and play his game but I can’t. I’m already five minutes late for dinner and mom
is a stickler for punctuality.

“I’m
late,” I murmur, drifting forward an inch as I sway on my heels. I catch the
minty scent of his breath and feel the warmth of his body heat.

“Now
I definitely know you were speeding.”

I
snort and shake my head. “Off duty, my ass,” I say, turning to make my way
towards the restaurant. He follows closely, and I can’t help swaying my hips as
I walk. There’s no line tonight and my outfit is a damn site demurer but I hope
he likes it just the same.

At
the entrance, I yank open the door and pause. “You have a good evening
Officer,” I say. He smiles, holding the door open high above my head. The
lights inside are dim and votive candles flicker atmospherically. Mom waves
from a booth near the back by the fireplace so I make my way over, thinking
about where in the restaurant Officer Carlisle might be sitting, and hoping he
will respect the fact that I’m here for a private dinner. Mom and I hug tightly,
and then she pulls back and holds my face, kissing me affectionately.

“You
look beautiful,” she says, sounding so proud that I get a lump in my throat. At
least she appreciates the effort I’ve made. I glance across the table and
notice the handsome man sitting with her. He has dark blond hair streaked with
white, kind eyes and a wide smile.
 
First
impressions are good. Mom’s taste passes my standards.

Mom
takes her seat at the table and I turn to her date. "You must be Jeff. My
mom hasn’t stopped talking about you."

I
grin when a blush stains her cheeks. Jeff offers his hand and I shake it
firmly.

"Great
to finally meet you, Allyson. She raves about you, too."

I
smile at my mom, taking in the way her happiness radiates from her. She’s
sparkling in a way I haven’t seen before, lit up from the inside. I watch as
she inches closer to Jeff and he covers her hand with his and squeezes. It’s
something so small but absolutely huge to me. Tiny hints of affection speak of
a deep connection and I’m suddenly so overwhelmed at their obvious love for
each other. It’s probably weird that I suddenly feel on the outside of her life
now, where I’d always been at the center. I’m a grown woman but that doesn’t
seem to have stopped me from needing my mom’s focus.

I
sigh, feeling blue and so damn guilty for it. I should be focusing on her
happiness and what a handsome couple they make but my insecurities are buzzing
loudly in my mind. It takes a moment for me to realize that one of our little
party still hasn’t arrived.

"Where's
your son? Is he coming?" I ask Jeff.

A
woodsy aroma fills my senses again and I turn to find that Officer Carlisle has
followed me across the restaurant. He grins at me and I freeze, thinking of
what a terrible impression I will make on Captain Jeff when he knows that I was
pulled over for speeding. Officer Carlisle’s mouth opens and I brace myself,
expecting him to say something about my law-breaking ways. Maybe he wasn’t
impressed by my incessant flirting and sassing.

"I'm
right here," he says and for a moment I’m confused. I blink slowly, trying
to work out what he means.

Mom
stands up again and pulls Officer Carlisle into an embrace as Jeff stands to
give him an affectionate pat on the back.

“It’s
so great you could make it, Cory,” my mom says and finally, the reality of the
situation hits me like a block of concrete.

Officer
Carlisle isn’t here to tell my mom and stepfather-to-be about my wayward
behavior. He’s my new smug-as-fuck stepbrother-to-be.

This
moment has to go down as one of the most embarrassing of my life. Heat rushes
to my face and I hope my mom doesn't notice. I plaster on a smile and turn to
see him grinning at me, his head cocked to one side. He thinks this is so
funny, but I definitely do not. I let the smile drop from my face and glare at
him, hoping my wrathful expression will warn him against using my ‘walk the
line’ story against me. He winks and I turn, suppressing a mortified groan as I
slide into the seat opposite Jeff. Cory takes the seat beside me.

"Great,
then! Everyone is here," Jeff says cheerfully, grabbing the menu up from
the table.

"You
two are going to get on like a house on fire, I can tell." My mom is
practically clapping her hands with the excitement of the evening.

I
suppress another groan. If only she knew. The grin on Cory's face gets wider
until he's full on smiling. God, his smile is amazing; perfect teeth, full lips
and one sexy dimple that does ridiculous things to me. I worked so hard for his
smile that night on the road-side, and here he is giving it away for
practically nothing.

I
reach for my glass of water, needing something to cool me down, and almost
knock it over in my haste. Cory moves a little closer to me, brushing my leg
with his. He's still grinning but he's looking at my mom and his dad now. Panic
rushes through me that he'll reveal that we've already met or worse, how.

"I've
never eaten here, what's good?" he asks picking up a menu.

A
waitress comes by the table and fills the water glasses then looks at us
expectantly. Eager to get the dinner over with I scan the menu quickly and order
the chicken, too distracted to even consider any other options. Not that I'll
be able to eat much of it anyway. My stomach is churning, made all the worse by
Cory sitting beside me. He drops a hand from the table and I think he’s dropped
his napkin. Then I feel his fingers on my leg, well my thigh to be exact. It’s
such a shock that I jump, putting my hand on top of his and holding it
still.
 
Mom looks at me with concern.

"Are
you okay, sweetie?"

"Fine
mom.” I squeeze Cory’s fingers in warning. “It’s just been a long day and I'm
hungry."

“Me
too. So hungry.” Cory rests the menu down and takes a drink, grinning to
himself and I want to slap his hand away and wipe the smile from his face, but
I don’t. His hand feels really big and really strong, his palm warm and dry. I
think about the way they felt against my skin when he frisked me and how I
imagined him touching me in my fantasy. I’m still gripping his hand so he
hasn’t had a chance to do more than rest it on my thigh, but the heat of it
alone is enough to make my pussy clench. For a terrible second, I imagine my
mom dropping her fork on the floor and seeing us sitting like a horny teenage
couple with no public decency.

I’m
totally still as everyone confirms their orders and the waitress takes her time
to note them down. When she bustles away, Cory gives my leg a gentle squeeze
and I practically combust.

"Cory
is a policeman," Jeff says.

"Really?
How interesting." My voice sounds all breathy and overly enthusiastic and
I don’t want to let go of Cory’s hand but I can’t hold it for the rest of the
evening. My palm is starting to sweat and it’s pretty obvious, by the way I’ve
been gripping him in my almost-claw, that he needs to lay off. This isn’t the
time or the place. I let go of him and reach for my water again, expecting him
to move away on his own, but he doesn’t.

"It
is interesting. I meet all kinds of people on the job. Mostly just normal
people who’ve stepped over the line; speeders for example."

I
cough on my water and slam the glass back on the table sloshing its contents
over the side. He’s going to tell them. I can just tell.

"Went
down the wrong way?" mom asked.

"Yep,"
I gasp. Cory chooses that moment to move his hand upward, ruffling my skirt and
pulling it higher on my leg. His fingers are firm but teasing, his little
finger brushes against the bare skin of my thigh and I can feel my cheeks
getting hot.

"Can
you tell us about any interesting cases you've had?" Mom asks Cory. She’s
using her fancy voice, pulling out all the stops to impress.

Panic
races through me again.

"It’s
all confidential I’m afraid. Every day has something new, though, so I'm never
bored."

"He's
got the makings of a great officer," Jeff beams. "He'll rise through
the ranks fast, I'm sure of it."

I
glance over at Cory and find, to my absolute shock, that he's blushing. Despite
the attention on him, he's still managing to multi-task as his hand strokes my
thigh again dipping down a little more between. I want to squirm in my seat and
spread my legs slightly to give him access to where I’m so hot and needy. My
pussy throbs the further up my thigh he goes. I shouldn’t want him to be doing
what he’s doing. This is an important dinner for all of us. It’s an opportunity
to cement our families before the wedding. I shouldn’t want him to, but I do,
and maybe because he won't slip his hand between my legs, my pussy throbs even
harder. It craves his touch, remembering the fantasy I conjured and how hard I
came around his imaginary cock.

I
silently urge him to slip his hand deep between my legs, even as I curse myself
for being so damn weak. He keeps tracing a finger up and down my thigh, getting
closer to my hip each time.

I
look around the restaurant for our server, praying the food is going to arrive
soon. I can't concentrate on anything my mom is saying. I think she's talking
about the wedding.