Double Tap (7 page)

A man had his boat docked on the edge of the boat ramp, waiting for the commotion of the accident to settle down before he left.

I walked up to him and offered him my hand.

He looked like he’d been on the river for the last forty years. His skin was craggy and sun drenched.
Deep laugh lines lined his mouth and eyes.

His hair was a bleach blonde, and he had so many freckles covering his face that I couldn’t tell where one began and the other ended.

“How are you doing?” I asked, offering the old fisherman my hand.

He took it, shaking it once, before dropping it again.

“I’m good, how about yourself?”
He replied.

I shrugged. “Not even eight in the morning and I’m already busy.”

He laughed with me, nodding his head in agreement.

“What’s going on?”
He asked, gesturing to the commotion up above.

I nodded to the area of the river where I kept seeing the bob of the black bag. “Do you mind taking me out there to see what that is? I have a man up there that swears there’s something down there, and I want to show him it’s nothing so he’ll move his truck.”

I don’t know what it was, maybe instinct, but,
for some reason, I just had to show that man that it was nothing. Had to. I couldn’t
not
do it.

The man nodded and I found myself trailing up the river at an extremely slow pace.
The old boat was fighting hard against the minuscule current.

The water was low for this time of year, but lack of rain and a drought would do that easily to this river. There were places that it was little more than a swift creek.

“Do you have a fish hook or anything?” I asked, gesturing to the bag.

He shook his head, and I sighed.

Of course it’d be me reaching in without any gloves on or anything.

That’s exactly what I wanted to do was stick my hands in a bag of trash.

Except it wasn’t a bag of trash.

In fact, it was a fucking
body
.

Six hours later

“I’m going to be late,
mamá
,” I
sighed. “I’m in the middle of a shit storm of mass proportions, and I don’t’ have time to make
it to dinner.”

My mother grumbled about me having a job that demanded too much of me, but there was little I could do. We’d had a homicide in our small town. In fact, it’d been multiple homicides.

What Officer Goddard had been trying to convince the poor old man was nothing, was in fact a dumping ground. It looked like it’d been used for going on years, and the only thing that’d made us privy to it now was that the river was low.

The river was dragged for nearly five hours, two miles upstream and two downstream, and in that four miles of river, three bodies were found.

My next call was to Georgia to apologize.

“Hello?” Georgia’s sweet, husky voice answered two rings later.

“Hey,
niña
. I’m going to be late,
if I even come at all. I’ve tried to get out of here for the last hour, but it’s not looking good
,” I said remorsefully.

I heard her exhale. “It’s okay. I heard what happened on the news. Are you okay?”

Her concern for me was touching. “Yeah, I’m okay. It was a surprise, that’s all.”

I’d seen dead bodies before. And I’d seen mass graves. However, that’d all been overseas. Not at home. And certainly not in my own backyard.
That was somethi
ng that happened anywhere but here.

“Okay.
I’ll set up a different day with your mom.
You should come over to my house when you’re done. It doesn’t matter what time it is,” she whispered.

I looked down at my hands and squeezed them into fists. “Sounds good, Georgia. Thank you.”

“Be safe,” she whispered, then hung up.

I placed the phone down in the receiver and then collapsed into my chair.

I had about eighteen more reports to fill out, and I could really tell that it’d be fun. Not.

It was when I was in my ninth report that I heard a soft knock on the door to my office.

I looked up to see Georgia there.

She was wearing black leggings, a baggy Gladewater Soccer shirt that looked remarkably familiar, and a small smile graced her lips.

“Hey,” I said, setting my pencil down.

My hand screamed in relief, and I stood up to clear my chair off.

She sat before she said anything, handing me food that smelled mouthwatering.

“Oh, my God. How’d you remember?” I asked as I dug into the gas station bag.

I had a soft spot for these chiquitos that the gas station near our place sold.

It was probably unhealthy as hell, but fuck, the taste was out of this world.

She rolled her eyes. “Nico, I remember everything. The way you roll your tongue when you’re concentrating. The way you crack your knuckles when you first wake up in the morning. Everything. Even your love for these vile things.”

I dug in and started to write again while she ate what looked to be a taco salad and played on her phone.

That was another thing about Georgia. She knew how to be silent.

I’m not saying that in a mean way or anything, but I’m not a talkative person, and she accepts that. She accepts me, bad attitude and all.

I finished my last three reports in silence, getting down to the very last report before she finally said something. “You’ll have to give me a ride home.”

I nodded, continuing to write. “10-4.”

She snorted but didn’t say anything else, only started gathering up our trash and tossing it into the garbage can beside my desk.

“I’m going to be tired tomorrow,” she giggled once everything was cleaned.

I flicked my eyes up to her and back down to my report. “It’s only eight thirty.”

She nodded. “Yeah, but I have to be at work at eight, which means I have to get up at five to workout, feed all the animals, and get to work.”

“Work?” I asked, raising my head.

She nodded. “Yeah, they want me to start tomorrow. Something about one of their other case managers being on maternity leave.”

I signed the bottom of my report and sat it in the stack of mail that I’d take by the chief’s office before I left for the night.

“I didn’t realize you were starting so early. You’ve only been here less than a week.” I stood. “Not to mention it’s the middle of the week? Who starts work in the middle of a week?”

“Social workers, obviously. Foster kids don’t take the weekend off, FYI,” Georgia said dryly.

I waved a dismissive hand. “That’s not what I meant, you little shit.”

God, it was like the last eight years hadn’t even happened.

We were fighting and sparring just as we’d done eight years ago.

As if all those horrible things in her life, and mine, never even happened.

“Alright, let me drop these by the chief’s office, and then we can go,” I said, gathering up the large stack.

She nodded and fell into step beside me.

I closed and locked the door, and she followed behind me sedately, taking in the still busy bull pen.

“Why is it so busy?”
She asked.

I put the reports in the Chief’s box and led her outside to my truck.

Opening the passenger side door for her, she hopped in, and I couldn’t help staring at her sexy, toned ass in her skin tight leggings.

It looked fucking amazing.

“Crime doesn’t just stop at night, you know,” I said mockingly.

She stuck her foot out and pushed me back with her foot firmly planted in my gut, then slammed the door.

I chuckled and walked around the front of the truck to my side, and hauled myself in, starting it up.

“I’m in love with you truck,” she purred as the new diesel motor purred.
“I want to ride in it forever.”

I looked at her, and with as straight of a voice as I could muster, I said, “This big boy would allow you to ride him forever.”

She burst out laughing.

I was serious, though.

However, I wasn’t talking about my truck.

Alphas
. Because who likes making your own
decisions anyway?

-Georgia’s inner thoughts.

Georgia

“Can you give me a little more info on this little girl’s case?” I asked Mary, the woman who was going over all my new cases with me.

I’d started my new job, on a Wednesday no less, and I was getting the info on one of the children that would be under my supervision in the immediate future.

I currently work for a non-profit agency that provides a multitude of services throughout the state of Texas. Full Hearts Adoption Services, FHAS, had several child emergency shelters for children who need a place to stay.

There were also after school programs, I’d learned only moments before, for the youth of the community to have a safe place to stay if they needed it.

In addition, there were services provided for pregnant women who were thinking about giving their children up for adoption as well.

Mary nodded and flipped her file open that she had on the four month old infant.

“No family. Grandfather is in prison for money laundering. No other living relatives. Mother died four months ago. This one is a really high profile case, because it was one of the local police officers that was forced to shoot the mother. The officer involved performed life preserving maneuvers on the mother until the ambulance arrived. The baby was delivered via emergency
C-section in Good Shepherd ER,” Mary confided.

My eyes widened. “Wow, that’s a tough one. Who was the officer?”

The question was an idle one, one that I was just curious about. But the next words out of Mary’s mouth froze me in my tracks.

“Officer Nicolas Pena. He’s a SWAT officer with Kilgore Police Department,” Mary said, flipping through the pages in her folder.

She didn’t notice when I froze, and by the time she looked up again, I’d composed my shocked features into a cool mask of indifference.

Holy shit, Nico had shot someone! A pregnant woman at that? Double holy shit!

“They’re calling her Angel. Angel’s being funded, however, and we’re fairly positive it’s related to the case somehow, but we’re not ones to deny help when it’s given. Angel’s currently at
her
foster mother’s place inside the city limits. She has four other children, two of which are also fosters
,” Mary continued.

I started taking notes again, my mind still reeling.

I’d heard the rumors around town about the pregnant woman killed by a cop, but never in a million years would I have suspected that it’d be Nico.

The catholic man who went to church every Sunday and loved kids with a fierceness that bordered on overprotectiveness.
The man that did everything within his power to defend human life.

He had to be torn up inside.

“Do I need to do a drop-in with that family?” I asked, trying to divert my attention away from Nico.

My primary responsibility with FHAS would be to find homes for any and all children in the FHAS child directory. Initially, I’d find them a foster home. Then I’d find them permanent homes through adoption.

The children under my care, as of right now, were already placed in their foster homes, so it was now
my job to find them their permanent homes. The homes where they’d be truly loved for the rest of their lives like they deserved.

“I’d suggest it. Go introduce yourself to all of them. At least that’s what I would do if I were you.” She nodded, standing.

“Okay, anything else I need to know?” I asked.

She shook her head, and then seemed to hesitate. “These are the children that have been here the longest. The ones that have the least hope of finding a home, besides Angel. I hope you can find them homes. I really do.”

I smiled sadly at Mary.

“I’ll do my best, Mary. Thank you,” I whispered.

That I would try to do. I knew on
firsthand account what the label of
‘foster kid’ could do to a child. My brothers had been scared to death after the death of my parents. I’d tried my hardest to keep a positive outlook for them, and none of that would’ve been possible if it wasn’t for the social worker assigned to their case.

Mya Minoa was truly my hero.

Speaking of the devil, Mya walked in with a large smile on her face bearing lunch in her arms.

“
Hola
, Mary. How are you doing?” Mya asked.

Mya reminded me of Mrs. Pena. In fact, there was a lot about the two that were similar, even their facial features.

That must’ve been why she was able to get into my circle of trust so easily after our ordeal. If it hadn’t been
for that, she wouldn’t have stood a chance. Not to my distrusting eighteen year old self.

“I’m well, Mya. I see you found Georgia’s weakness,” Mary said with a smile.

That would be because I’d already started digging into the bag of food that’d been in Mya’s arms.

I was positively starving.

Running with Nico, even if it was for a short period, was most definitely a workout.
He didn’t let me slack off, even going as far as to taunt me to get me to run further or faster.

I’d nearly died in my front yard once we’d
made it back. Then Nico had gone on to run the rest of the loop around our streets, which was over six miles.

He was such a loser.

No, really though, he was in great shape for thirty one years old. Amazing shape, in fact.

All the while I was scarfing down an obnoxious amount of Chinese food and not feeling the least bit guilty.

“The girl’s always had the ability to eat and stay skinny,” Mya said dryly.

I snorted. That was the best lie I’d heard in weeks.

I ran so I could eat. I ate a lot so I had to run a lot. End of story.

“Well, I’ll let you two…finish lunch,” she said laughingly. “Have a good day, honey, and let me know if I can help you with anything.”

I just opened my mouth to take another bite when Mary turned abruptly. “I forgot!”
She exclaimed.