ARRESTED: A Stepbrother Cop Romance (7 page)

9

ALLYSON

The
lobby smells of laundry detergent and ramen noodles and I shuffle to my dorm
room, closing the door behind me. I hold the piece of paper with Cory's number
against my heart. It’s like a key to a safer place. I sit on my bed and slip
off my heels, then tap Cory’s number into my cell phone. Just as I’ve finished
saving his details, it starts to ring in my hand. It’s a private number and I
answer, thinking it’s Rachel calling from home. I’m not really ready to answer
the questions she might ask but if I don’t pick up, she’ll only keep calling.

I
swipe to answer the phone and whisper a greeting, expecting Rachel’s voice to
reply. Instead, I’m shocked by an angry male voice.
 

Drew.

"If
you think you can hide behind your punk cop fake brother you're dumber than I
thought."

He
sounds absolutely furious, as though his anger at the party has been stoked by
Cory’s words. It was what I dreaded, and why I’ve been trying to appease him.

"I'm
not hiding," I insist, trying to keep my voice even. If he hears it break
he’ll know how scared I am and it’ll give him more power.

"He
can't help you, you know. You had your chance to keep everything between us. I
wanted you back but you blew it big time."

Panic
steals my breath. I suck in air, trying to calm my racing heart. I have to say
something. I have to try and make him see that what he’s doing is wrong.

“Drew,
you can’t do this anymore.” Anxiety cracks my voice. “Just delete the pictures
and I’ll forget any of this ever happened. We’ll just put it down to
end-of-relationship bad-blood, okay. It happens.”

Drew’s
breathing sounds furious on the other end of the phone.
 
Maybe that sounded wrong. Does he think I’m
mocking him? Or trying to make him sound pathetic? Blood pounds in my head.

“Shut
up,” he says. “You stupid bitch. You think you get any kind of say in what
happens next. YOU GET NO SAY, DO YOU UNDERSTAND? You think you can just walk
away from me because you want to. I say when it’s over, Allyson. And I haven’t
said it’s over.” It sounds as though his teeth are gritted. Everything is
falling apart. I should have known things wouldn't end well when I first told
him it wasn’t working out between us. I never imagined he would be so
vindictive.

“Drew,
you can’t force me to be with you. That isn’t how it works.”

“It
works, however I say it works,” he growls. “You think you’re just going to walk
away and hook up with someone else and I’m going to say nothing about it.
You're mine. Everything from your stupid laugh to your fat ass is mine.”

I
want to tell him to go fuck himself. I want to slam the phone down on his
horrible, cruel words. His jealousy has always been difficult to deal with but
this is taking things to a whole other level.

I
don’t know what to say next. Nothing’s working. If reasonable words have
failed, then lashing out in anger is only going to stoke his fury.

"Drew,
please delete the pictures. I won't tell anyone anything. I promise."

His
harsh laugh sends a shudder through me. "Everyone thinks you're a whore
anyway. The way you dress and carry yourself. I've already shown the pictures
to most of my friends. They’ve seen exactly what kind of a slut you are."

My
heart sinks, hot blood creeping up my cheeks as I think about people looking at
what he did to me. "You said you hadn't shown anyone.”

His
laugh sends fear skittering down my spine. "If you want, they all said
they’ll fuck you too. They’ll give it to you exactly the way you like it."

I
can’t hold the tears in anymore.
 
They
spill over my hot cheeks, dripping onto the knees of my jeans. I know that no
amount of begging will change his mind. There will be no reasoning with him
now. He’s gone too far. Threats have now become a reality. From the moment I
broke up with him, his revenge was decided. All the bullshit about us getting
back together, that was never his intention. He just wanted to control me and
find a way to humiliate me some more. He strung me along making me think I
could convince him to delete the pictures. That he wouldn't show anyone. But he
never had any intention of deleting them. He’d probably already shown them to
his friends before the party.

I end
the call and sit staring at my phone, letting the full horror of my situation
sink in. All his friends know. That’s his whole fraternity, most likely. And
the football team. And his lame ass drinking buddies from the dive in town.
Even if just one other person saw them, the rumors will circulate. Tremors
shake my body as I finally let myself cry. If he’s let people see them, he’s probably
sent them out too, and as soon as those photos hit the internet, my dreams of
becoming a teacher will be ruined.

I
have no choice. As much as I wanted to keep him out of this, Cory is the only
person who might be able to help me now. I swipe the tears from my face, get my
breathing under control and pick up my cell. With a trembling hand, I dial
Cory's number and hold my breath until he answers.

"Officer
Carlisle." He barks his name as though he’s pissed or in the middle of
dealing with something unpleasant. Fuck. How the hell am I going to tell this
man who’s a virtual stranger, all the shit I have going on in my life? I pause
and the line at the other end is quiet.

“Hello,”
he says impatiently.
 
There’s rustling as
though he’s looking at the phone screen to see if he recognizes the number.

I
finally find my mouth but all I can think of to say is his name.

"Cory."

"Allyson?”
He’s not sure it’s me for a second.
 
Maybe he wasn’t expecting me to call him so soon. Maybe my voice sounds
different on the phone. “Are you okay?"

I
shake my head, even though he can’t see it, and drag in another breath. I feel
so damn tired; drained to the marrow of my bones. All I need is a shoulder to
cry on or some arms to hold me. I need someone with a magic wand to conjure away
my problems and leave me swirling with fairy dust. But Cory isn’t magic.
There’s no one in my life who can help me. I shouldn’t have called so I can
push all my worry onto him.

“I
just wanted to call to say thanks, for the lift and being so kind.”

“Yeah?”
he answers.
 
He doesn’t believe me but
that’s fine.

“Yeah,
and to make sure you gave me your real number.”

“You
think I would have given you a fake?”

“Nah,
not really.”

He
chuckles and I try to picture where he is in our city. Maybe sitting in his
car, waiting for his next call? I don’t know what to say next but I don’t want
to hang up. Hearing him this way has already calmed me.

I
used to have one of those simple joke books when I was a kid and I still
remember some silly ones. “What do you get if you cross a cop and a sleeping
bag?”

“You
called me to tell me jokes, Allyson?”

“You
don’t like humor?”

He
snorts and I can almost imagine what he looks like; eyes twinkling, a half-smirk.
So damn sexy. “Tell me, pretty girl,” he says and my heart feels warm as though
he cupped it in his hands and kissed it tenderly.

“A
pig in a blanket.”

I
wait for his response but the phone goes silent, then he roars with laughter.

“I’m
gonna have to tell Simons that one,” he chuckles.

I
wait for him to say something else but he doesn’t. I have so many thoughts
jostling around in my head, so many questions.

“Why’d
you kiss me, at the restaurant?” I ask him.

“Because
you’re so damn sexy I couldn’t keep my hands off you.” His voice is low and
dripping with sex. I press the phone closer to my ear, wanting to hear every
breath and rustle he makes.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”
My heart skips, as I remember the way his tongue slid against mine like the
promise of something even more intimate. “Why’d you kiss me back,” he asks.

“I
wanted to know if what I’d imagined was better than reality.”

“You
imagined us kissing?”

“Something
like that,” I chuckle. If he knew the half of it, he’d probably have an
embolism.

“And was
it better than your fantasy?” Cory’s voice is so hopeful that I find myself
putting aside all the feelings of annoyance at his cockiness and sinking down
onto my bed to talk to him more comfortably.

“Yeah,
it was better.”

He
makes a soft, happy sound. “That’s good. I wouldn’t want to fall short of my
imaginary self.”

“You’ve
got a lot to live up to,” I whisper, brushing my cheeks with the back of my
hand and wiping away the last evidence of my tears. They have no place here.
Here is somewhere happy and safe. I’ve closed my worries back in the box and
Cory is holding it closed for me.

“I
do, do I?”

“Yeah.”

“You
wanna tell me?” I can hear how much he wants me to tell him, so much so that I
think he’d beg if I said no.

“You
tell me something first. Why’d you let me off the ticket?”

Cory
sighs gently as if he’s reluctant to say. “Quid pro quo,” I say encouragingly,
remembering the line from that freaky film Silence of the Lambs.

“You
think it’s because I wanted to fuck you?” he asks and I feel the last two words
like a surge of heat between my legs.

“Did
you?” I want to hear him say yes so badly.

“A
blind man would want to fuck you, Allyson. Have you not seen yourself?”

I
sigh, thinking about all the critical things Drew told me about my appearance
over the past few months; fat ass, how my thighs squish together in the middle,
how one of my boobs is slightly bigger than the other. Even though I know he
was saying them to hurt me and to try and steal my self-confidence, it doesn’t
mean that I haven’t felt the truth of them. When I don’t answer I hear him
sigh.

“You’re
beautiful, Allyson, but that’s not why I let you off the ticket.”

“Why
then?”

“Because
I could sense you had something going on in your life that was making you
scared and I didn’t want to make whatever was going on worse.”

I
wasn’t expecting that answer at all and it hits me like an arrow in the heart.
Fresh tears spill from my eyes, marking my temples and dripping into my hair.

“Are
you okay?” he asks me again, but this time, I feel ready, to be honest. This
time, I know his concern for me is genuine.

"I'm
really not," I say around a throat that’s closed and burning.

"What's
wrong? What's happened?"

Even
though I don't want to see the look on his face when I tell him about Drew, I
can't tell him over the phone either.

"I
think I need your help."
  

10

ALLYSON

I pace my dorm room feeling antsy and exhausted,
second guessing my call to Cory. When the police arrived at the party last
night his shift had just started so now I'm waiting for him to get off work. As
the hours have passed I’ve started to regret my call. It was a knee-jerk
reaction to the panic I felt after I hung up on Drew.

Why had I said I needed his help?

I’m so torn, knowing that he’s a professional and will
help me if I tell him what’s going on. But he’s too close to the situation now.
In a few months, we’ll be family. Could he keep what I tell him from my mom?
What if Drew’s just full of empty threats? If I tell Cory, there’ll be no going
back.

And I really genuinely like him. For all his cockiness
and teasing, I get the impression that he's actually a good guy with a kind
heart.

I stop my pacing and walk to the window, pulling the
curtain aside to scan the street for him. About to check the clock on the
microwave, I stop myself. I must have checked it ten times in the last five
minutes. I’m starting to feel frantic, pumped up with adrenaline and no sleep.
I smother a yawn and pad to the kitchen area of the room. I don't usually make
coffee here, preferring to grab a latte from the coffee shop. But I can't face
Cory like this, feeling all sleepy and shaky. I need caffeine to perk me up.

I pop a filter into the machine, measure out enough
grinds for four cups, add water and hit the start button. The machine gurgles
to life, filling the room with the rich scent of coffee. My eyes flutter closed
briefly but if I leave them shut for too long I'm in danger of falling asleep
standing up. I walk to the cupboard that houses my mugs; four of them just in
case I have company. I pull out two and put them on the counter. No doubt Cory
will be shattered after a long night shift.

When the coffee machine finishes I pour a mug, splash
in some milk and two teaspoons of sugar. More than usual but I need the energy.
I take a tentative sip, savoring the heat and bitterness. With my coffee cup in
hand, I walk back over to the window to scan the front of the building again.

Cory should be off work by now. How long does it take
to get from the station to the university? How much paperwork did he have?
Would he have to finish that before leaving? Before I can come up with other
excuses for him not being here yet his car pulls up in front of the hall.
Butterflies launch in my stomach, fluttering around like mad, but it's too late
for second thoughts. He gets out and I'm surprised to see he's still in his
uniform.

Panic slices through me as he walks up the stairs to
the lobby door. The buzzer in my room rings and I hit the button to disengage
the front door lock.

Oh god, I'm not ready to tell him exactly what
happened with Drew. Now he's here and he’ll be mad if I tell him I called him
for no reason. A lump of dread languishes in my stomach and the coffee makes my
otherwise empty stomach churn. I have to tell him something, and I do need
help. Maybe there’s a way to salvage this.

I take another sip of coffee then put the mug on the
counter. Maybe once I start telling him the story my nerves will settle. Maybe
getting my worries off my chest in some way will help me sleep tonight. Drew's
spiteful face fills my mind and I blink and shake my head to dislodge it.

It's been ages since I've had anyone in my room and I
do a quick once-over to make sure nothing embarrassing is lying on the floor or
tossed over a chair. Since I'm usually studying in the library or out with
Rachel, my room isn't that much of a mess. I bolt to the bed and yank the
covers up to cover the pillows. A made bed always makes a room look cleaner and
I don’t want Cory to think I’m a slovenly student.

Though I'm expecting it, the soft knock on the door
makes me jump. This is it. No turning back now. I yank the door open and a wave
of relief cascades over me at the sight of him. He looks official and imposing
in his uniform, which is good. I need the Cory with authority because casual
Cory might make me tempted to tell the truth.

I step aside so he can come into my room. He looks
genuinely worried about me, his eyes scanning the room for anything suspicious.
I can’t help but find his furrowed brow and serious mouth touching.

"Did you want a drink? Coffee?" I ask,
needing to break the silence and disturb the somber mood.

Cory looks surprised at my question but nods.
"Sure, cream no sugar."

I make myself busy in the kitchen pouring his coffee
and checking the tiny fridge for cream.

"I only have milk, is that okay?"

"Sure."

I watch him as he prowls the space in front of my
desk. The dorm room is small with only a bed, a tiny kitchenette, bathroom and
a sitting area. He turns the chair at my desk around and sits. His eyes are
questioning but he doesn't say anything. I'm thankful that he's being patient,
waiting for me to start the conversation. Direct questions would definitely
have made me more nervous than I already am.

I bring his coffee over and hand it to him, hoping he
doesn't notice the shaking of my hand. "Careful, it's hot." Cory
raises his eyebrows and I cringe at the lameness of my comment. I pad over to
my bed, looking down at my bare legs and feet, feeling a little exposed.

Cory takes a small sip then puts the mug on the desk.
"Thanks." He turns his attention to me, then, his eyes bore into
mine, waiting.

"How's your dad?" I ask, searching for a
distraction. I feel so awkward. I don’t know if I can do this.

"He's fine. Still talking about your mom all the
time."

Cory smiles and I do too. They’re a cute couple and
Jeff makes my mom happier than I've seen her in years. If I wasn’t going
through all this shit right now, I’d be excited to go dress shopping and help
out with the preparations for the big day.

"How are the wedding plans coming, do you know? I
haven't talked to my mom since the family dinner."

"I guess they're coming along fine. It's not like
my dad talks about that kinda stuff."

"Aren't you going to be his best man?"

"Yeah, but he's a grown man. He’s sorting it all
out. He’ll only tell me if he needs my help."

"I'll find out from mom when we go shopping. I'm
sure things are going well. All she can talk about is the wedding and your dad
when I talk to her."

"Allyson.” Cory’s voice is serious as though he’s
telling me to stop without using the word."

"What?" I say, playing the innocent.

"Stop avoiding the issue. You said you needed my
help. What's going on?"

My pulse speeds and I drop my gaze to my hand, picking
at the cuticles with my nails. It’s all there bubbling inside me, but I don’t
know where to start. How do I tell him such private things? I thought it’d be
easier. I thought because he’d given me his number and he’d seen what Drew was
like, that I’d be able to open up. I thought because he’s a cop that this would
be easier, but it isn’t.

I hear the scrape of the chair against the floor as
Cory gets up. He kneels in front of me and puts his hand next to my leg on the
bed. It feels like such an intimate thing to do and there’s genuine concern in
his expression. I suck in a deep breath and look into his eyes. I've seen them
flash with anger and darken with lust, but it’s the softness in them now breaks
my heart. It’s his gentleness that finally frees the words trapped in my mouth.

"Okay, I'll tell you but listen to the whole
story before you say anything.”

"Of course."

He's still in cop mode, I realize. As a person, a
friend or a stepbrother even, he’d probably react emotionally, but as an
officer, he’ll listen to everything first, take it all in, analyze it before
commenting. Feeling a little better, I nod.

"I have a friend who is having problems with a guy."

I peer down to see his expression. He's so good at
keeping a neutral expression that I can't tell if he believes if there really
is a
friend
or not. "She broke
up with her boyfriend because he was getting really jealous all the time. While
they were going out things seemed good in the beginning. So good that she let
him take pictures of her that could hurt her if they got out."

I wring my hands in my lap. My stomach churns and I
suddenly wish I'd eaten some toast with my coffee. The silence hanging in the
air is unnerving but I force myself not to fill it with idle chatter.

"And now he's threatening to show the
pictures?"

I purse my lips and nod. "He said everyone should
know what a whore she is." I stop and look at him again. He's still
listening, not judging, so I continue. "At first, he said if she doesn't
get back together with him he'll send the pictures to all of his friends. Now
he's said he's shown them to his friends already and will send them to her
family and friends. My friend thinks he'll post them online too."

"Can you tell me anything else? More details
about the guy? Name, address?"

His hand reaches to squeeze mine.

"I can't. My friend doesn't know I'm talking to
you about it. I want to know what can happen in a situation like this. What can
she do?"

Cory tenses. His knees must be hurting because he gets
up to sit on the bed beside me.

"If he releases the pictures, he’ll be breaking
the law, Allyson.
 
There are new laws
that cover this kind of thing. The first cases are going to trial now. If your
friend has proof of the threats then the guy is more likely to be prosecuted.
He needs to be questioned, Allyson."

"I know. I told my friend that," I lie.

Cory looks at me closely, as though he’s trying to
work me out. I know I’m bad at lying but I hope this sounds plausible enough
for me to get away with it.

"Anything that she can gather will help at trial.
Tell her to keep track of everything this guy does, everything he says to
her."

“Okay. I will.”

“And if she wants to speak to me about it, you can
give her my number. I’ll be able to put her in touch with someone who’s a
specialist in this area.”

“Okay.”

Cory stands and I'm disappointed that he's ready to
leave already. What did I expect, though? That he’d want to stay and chit chat
when he’s been working all night? I’m so tired I barely have the energy to get
up to walk him to the door.

"I should go,” he says, adjusting his uniform and
flexing his neck. “I have some things I have to do and I'm beat after a long
shift.” He pauses, eying me again. Is he going to question my story? I don’t
know what I’ll do if he does. I fuss with my hair while he seems a bit lost for
words. I’m relieved when he does speak and it’s not to call me out. “When your
friend is ready to come forward, you tell her I'll be there to support her. She
needs to come forward, though. We can't help her if she stays silent."

The truth of his words really hits home. Cory takes
another few gulps of coffee and walks to the door.

“Look, Allyson,” Cory says, pausing at the threshold. He
turns and presses his hand to my cheek. “At the restaurant…” He pauses as
though he doesn’t know what to say.

“You don’t need to apologize,” I blurt out, trying to
ease his obvious embarrassment.

“I wasn’t going to apologize,” he says. His thumb
caresses my cheek, his eyes on my lips. My throat is still tight with unspent
emotion and his tenderness almost brings tears to my eyes. I swallow noisily,
conscious of everything.

“What were you going to say, then?”

“That I’ve been thinking about you.”

“Thinking about what,” I whisper as he gazes down at
me, soft brown eyes like melted chocolate.

“Thinking that I want to do it again.”

I don’t say anything, even though it’s on the tip of
my tongue to tell him I want that too. I’m hurting so badly that it would be
the sweetest escape. I can’t think that way, though. I can’t think about how it
would feel to surrender to his desire because it would be wrong. In a few
months, he’s going to be family. Any upset between us would hurt my mom and her
dreams of creating a unit for us with her impending marriage. I’ve done so much
wrong recently; made bad mistakes, stupid choices, incorrect judgments, that I
don’t trust myself.

My eyes must show my warring emotions because Cory
smiles.

“I can almost see your mind working.”

“And what is it saying?”

“That I shouldn’t kiss you again. That it would be a
mistake.”

“Wouldn’t it?”

“Maybe.”

I’m not expecting him to kiss me. Not really. So when
he does, my heart leaps in my chest. One tiny soft press of his lips and my
knees are weak.

“It doesn’t feel like a mistake,” he whispers huskily,
breath gusting against my cheek as he presses soft kisses along my jaw. His
gentleness is enough to make me want to cry again. Emotions bubble away inside
me. He’s right. The way he kisses me feels about as far from a mistake as I can
imagine.