Addison

GREG SWORE, LOOKING from Dylan to me. “What the hell’s going on?”

“What are you doing?” I asked Dylan. “I have this under control.”

“Of course you do,” she said, holstering her gun. “I’m just here to make sure you don’t shoot him.”

“Thank God,” Greg sighed. “This crazy bitch came into my house pretending like we were on a date and drew a gun on me. Hey, wait...I know you. You’re the broad from the grocery store.”

Dylan gave him a maniacal grin. “Yep, and if you call my best friend a bitch again, I’ll show you crazy.”

That silenced the sleaze-ball.

I smiled. “Mr. Greggy here did not make good choices today.”

Greg swore and came at me, but I pulled the trigger, shooting the floor right in front of him. He squealed like a pig and froze, his eyes wide with fear.

“You...you...you shot my...” He pointed at the bullet hole in the carpet.

I raised my gun in response. “Yep, that’s right, dear, I not only know how to use this gun, I’m not afraid to.” Wetness streaked down the front of his joggers and I could smell urine.

“Did you just pee your pants?” Dylan asked Greg, then looked at me. “Did he pee his pants?”

“Looks like it,” I acknowledged. “Hey, can you grab a baggie from the kitchen and snag that wine? I want to find out if this douchebag tried to roofie me.”

“On it,” Dylan said, heading in. “And can I just say what a badass you are right now, Addie? You made the chicken shit meathead wet himself. I’m impressed.”

“My bladder was full.” Greg’s face reddened with indignant rage. “You stupid—”

I aimed the gun at his family jewels. “You might want to rethink your words there, buddy.”

Dylan sidled around us to gather the evidence, then we handcuffed Greg to one of the legs holding up the kitchen peninsula. The leg wasn’t bolted down, so he could get out of it with a little work, but it would give us time to escape.

“What about your cuffs?” Dylan asked.

“They’re cheap. I can replace them.” I smiled. “Ready?”

She nodded and we made a run for the door, reaching the street just as a black sedan screeched to a halt outside of the house. Red and blue lights flashed from the back and we froze.

“Crap! Did he call the cops?” Dylan asked.

I shrugged. “I have no idea.”

The door opened and Jake slid out, his face contorted with anger, but quickly smoothing into a neutral expression. This didn’t really make me feel better. “Addison. Dylan. What are you doing in this part of town?”

“Visiting a friend,” Dylan lied.

“Why do you have a glass in a plastic bag?” Jake asked.

Before Dylan could answer, I jumped in, asking, “What are you doing here?”

“Drug bust four doors down.” He studied me. “We got a call about a...a gunshot. Please tell me you don’t know anything about that.”

Jake’s partner, Detective Mike Pike, stepped out and handed Jake a piece of paper. “Hey, Addison. Ms. James.”

“Hi Mike.”

“Wait,” Jake said, interrupting our reunion. He looked from the house we’d come out of to me and shook his head. “So who fired off a gun?”

“Umm...”

Before I could come up with a creative explanation that wouldn’t involve lying, Greg’s door slammed open and he ran out of the house, one wrist still cuffed. “Stop them! They’re thieves!” he bellowed, making a beeline for me.

Jake drew his gun, stepping to intercept him. “Police. Don’t come any closer.”

Greg almost fell he came to a halt so quickly.

“Addison,” Jake growled, keeping his focus on Greg. “Why is there a half-naked man coming out of the house you just left?”

Dylan and I looked at each other.

“One of you wanna fill me in?” Jake asked.

“Not really,” I grumbled.

“Don’t look at me,” Dylan said, throwing her hands in the air.

“At least tell me why he’s in handcuffs,” Jake said.

“These two crazy bitches accosted me in my home and cuffed me to the kitchen island!” Greg blurted out, pointing his finger at us. “That was after Lydia there shot a hole in my floor!”

“Lynda!” Dylan and I both shouted.

“Is that true...?” Jake asked. “Lynda?”

“It’s not really an island...more like a peninsula,” I provided.

Jake’s body stiffened further (if that was even possible). “Why did they shoot a hole in your floor and cuff you to the...ah...peninsula?”

“He attacked Addie,” Dylan said.

“Hush, Dylan,” I snapped.

Jake glanced over his shoulder. “What?”

“I didn’t attack no one,” Greg argued. “That thirsty broad was coming on to me! I’m a married man. I don’t do that sort of thing.”

“Thirsty?” Dylan’s jaw dropped.

“Addison?” Jake asked. Even in the dim street light I could see the vein in his neck pulsing.

“We’re on a job,” I whispered.

That didn’t help one bit. Jake sucked in a deep breath and his face turned a little purple.

“Did he accost you, Addison?”

“Technically, yes. But I had it under control. I aimed my gun at him and he kind of wet himself, so—”

“Stay put,” he demanded, before I could tell him what a badass I was.

Jake had Mike take Greg to the car to “ask him some questions,” before pulling me out of earshot of Dylan and crossing his arms. “Spill.”

“No.”

“I swear—”

I raised a finger. “No swearing.”

“Addison, I’m holding it together by a thread right now, so you need to start speaking.”

I caved and filled him in on the job for Ethan Sinclair, our inability to get real proof the first time, and what happened just a few minutes before. I censored a bit, knowing Jake was ready to explode, but I don’t think it did any good.

He dragged his hands through his hair and swore.

“Don’t freak out, honey,” I said.

He scowled, leaning down close. “Exactly how am I supposed to not freak out, Addison? You went in there without any kind of backup.”

“I had Dylan and I had my gun. I really think I should name my gun...she seriously saved the day tonight.” Oops, wrong thing to say. “I mean—”

He raised his hand. “Don’t.”

I bit my lip as I watched his jaw twitch. “Honey, you really need to learn to trust me. This is my job.”

“Well, I hate your job,” he snapped.

I squared my shoulders, but decided not to add fuel to the fire. Jake was worried and upset. I had to honor those emotions and let him work them out. I glanced at Dylan as she watched me, obviously giving me space, but ready if I needed her. Best friend indeed.

“I thought...” he started, then trailed off.

“What, Jake?”

He gave a mirthless chuckle. “I thought you weren’t talking to me.”

I frowned. “When?”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

I grabbed the lapels of his jacket and tugged him closer. “It does matter, honey. Talk to me. I need to know you’re okay with all of this.”

“I’m not okay with any of it,” he snapped.

“Well, it’s not going to change, so you need to figure out a way to live with it.” I searched his face and sighed. “But why would you think I wouldn’t be speaking to you?”

“Because of our conversation last night. I thought you’d scraped me off.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Dylan said. “I have to head back to the condo.”

I nodded. “Oh, right. Dinner with Asher.”

“Which I forgot about,” she admitted.

“Oops. I’ll see you later.”

“’Bye.”

Dylan jogged toward her car and I grabbed Jake before he could walk away. “Not so fast, mister. Which part of any of our conversation last night made you think I’d scraped you off?”

We’d had a rather heated argument (again) about my job and its penchant to potentially get me hurt or killed.

“It was more the not answering my texts today,” he admitted.

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from giggling in glee. Apparently, I didn’t do a very good job hiding my emotion, because he dropped his head back and swore at the sky.

A giggle burst out. “I’m sorry, Jake. I really am, but you’re an idiot.”

“Excuse me?” he ground out.

“I’m not going to ‘scrape you off’ after a fight. I love you, you big oaf. I told you that last night when we hashed things out. I haven’t changed my mind since then but if I had, I sure as hell wouldn’t ignore your texts in order for you to get the hint.” I slid my arms under his jacket and up his back. “I’d tell you...to your gorgeous, perfect face.”

“Babe, I’m working.”

“So am I,” I countered. “Or I was.” I grinned. “My workday is done. Dylan and I got the guy, so I get to go home and celebrate. Now kiss me.”

“I’m workin’, Addie. I’m not gonna kiss you.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, babe, really.”

“Well, that’s too bad,” I said, keeping my arms around him even though his were at his sides. “Of course, I’d rather be running my tongue—”

“Addison,” he groaned, leaning down to get nose-to-nose with me. “Knock it off.”

I took advantage of his closeness and kissed him. I had intended for it to be a quickie, but he slid his hand to the back of my head and pulled me in for a much deeper connection. Mmmm...delicious.

He broke the kiss and shook his head. “Pain in the ass.”

I grinned. “Back atya.”

Jake laughed. “Damn it, Addison. Even when you’re a pain in the ass, you’re fuckin’ cute.”

“I try.”

He pulled away from me, but lifted my hand to his mouth and kissed the palm. “We’ll talk more about this”—he nodded toward Greg’s duplex—“later.”

“Um...I’m okay if we don’t.”

“I’m not,” he said, firmly. “I’ll swing by after shift, unless you plan on doing something equally as stupid and won’t be home.”

“No, I’ll be home,” I admitted.

“Eleven too late?”

“If I said yes, would you sleep on it?”

“Nope.”

“Didn’t think so,” I grumbled. “I’ll see you at eleven, but only if you promise there will be make-up sex.”

“Hell, yeah.”

“Correct answer, Detective Parker.”

“Come on, I’ll walk you to your car.” He took my hand and tugged me toward my Mercedes, leaning down to kiss me gently before I climbed in. He watched me drive away and I couldn’t help a little smile at the thought he was a little insecure about where we stood. I liked having the upper hand, even if it was miniscule.

My victory lasted for all of five seconds when I remembered he was coming by later to discuss my job. Gah! Like he had any say in it at all. My warm fuzzies evaporated like smoke in a hurricane, quickly replaced by righteous indignation, morphing into full-blown irritation and thoughts of voodoo dolls. By the time I arrived at my apartment, I was spitting mad.