Vodka On The Rocks (The Uncertain Saints Book 3) Read online

  He gave me a droll look.

  “Fire code isn’t necessarily just firefighters. Police officers have to come and enforce the code,” he said, sounding somewhat offended that I would’ve suggested he know anything about firefighters.

  “Do you miss it?” I asked.

  “Miss what?” he evaded, pulling my hand and leading me to the bar where he grabbed both of us a drink. Me a water, and himself a blackened voodoo.

  “Being a police officer,” I drawled.

  He grimaced. “Yes and no. I miss having the backup when I need it, but I don’t miss the fact that I don’t have anyone to answer to. I’m not constantly worried that I’m going to offend some poor, innocent soul and get my badge pulled because of it. I make my own hours. I take time off when I want to. I can pick and choose which cases I want. If one’s too dangerous, I just don’t do it. And if I need money, I’ll choose a higher bond one that’ll net me a shit ton more money.”

  That sounded…reasonable.

  “Those cases are the ones that require me to go all over the fuckin’ place to look for ‘em. I had one last spring that I took and followed him all the way to Hawaii. Took him all the way home, then flew back to spend some time there because I met some girl that wan…”

  I gave him a look to shut up, and he did. Only he grinned in the process.

  “That last part was a joke,” he lied.

  “Uh-huh,” I snorted, turning my eyes to my sister.

  She had her arms wrapped around Mig, her face pressed into his chest as he spoke to my parents.

  “Do you want kids?” I blurted abruptly.

  His face sort of fell, and I got a sinking feeling that I wasn’t going to like what he had to say next.

  “I can’t…I can’t have kids,” he said after a long moment of silence.

  I blinked.

  “You can’t?” I asked. “Are you sure?”

  He nodded, then shrugged. “Fairly sure, anyway. The trauma that I received when that bomb exploded was pretty bad. I got a good chunk of my arm and shoulder muscle taken out. Followed by some extensive damage to my lower stomach and top of my thighs. Which, in turn, got infected; the doctors think it might’ve caused me to be sterile.” He sipped his beer. “I got one of those sperm count tests done shortly after I healed almost all the way, and it was so low that it was almost nonexistent.”

  I worried my lip.

  “So…what about adoption?” I asked.

  He shrugged.

  “Never thought about it, to be honest.”

  I would’ve explored the subject more, but my father chose that moment to walk up from the back of the clubhouse, carrying what looked to be a very large box, which looked like it was wrapped by him.

  I smiled.

  “Hey Daddy,” I called.

  He grinned. “Hi, baby.”

  He placed the box down in front of me, and I stared at it in wonder.

  “What’d you get me?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Something your man thought you’d like.”

  I turned to ‘my man.’

  “So you know my daddy?” I concluded.

  He nodded.

  “Met a couple days ago,” he sipped his beer. “Explained what was happening to you, and why you were staying at my place.”

  “Hmmm,” I hummed. “And what’d you tell him I wanted?”

  I small grin kicked up the corner of his mouth.

  “You’ll have to open it and see,” he tipped his bottle in the direction of my present.

  Warily, I walked to the package and started ripping off the duct tape that my father had used to paste down the edges.

  Then worked on the duct tape that held the box closed.

  And grinned when I saw what was inside.

  “You remembered!” I cried.

  Offhandedly I’d mentioned to Casten that I wanted a pink riding jacket like some girl had been wearing on a crotch rocket.

  He’d rolled his eyes at me and dismissed me…or I’d thought he had.

  Apparently, he heard every word, because when I looked over at him, after slipping the jacket on my shoulders, he held out a helmet. The very exact one that I told him I wanted when I went online to price the jacket.

  “You got it!” I squealed, grabbing the helmet from him and placing it on top of my head, strapping it down under my chin before turning to him.

  “How do I look?” I asked, turning this way and that.

  He smiled, his gleaming white teeth standing out starkly against the brown of his beard.

  “You look good, darlin’.”

  Did his voice sound deeper?

  I could tell he would’ve used other words, had my parents not been there.

  I threw my arms around his shoulders for all of four seconds before I moved to my father.

  “Thank you, Daddy,” I squeezed him tight.

  I blew my mom a kiss over my father’s shoulders, and she caught it before bringing it to her heart.

  “You’re welcome, girl. You got a good one,” he muttered.

  I leaned back and let him see my eyes.

  “I did, didn’t I?” I nodded, removing my helmet. “How do you like him?”

  He turned me so that I could see Casten.

  He was standing with one side leaned against the bar height counter, his beer dangling from one finger he had curled around the rim.

  He was speaking with my sister and Mig, and it struck me then how much I wanted my father to like him, because I could see myself spending the rest of my life with Casten if he allowed it.

  “I like him,” my father confirmed. “And I think Jet would like him for you, too.”

  I turned suddenly tear filled eyes to my father.

  “You think so?” I asked.

  “Know so,” he agreed. “Casten came to me Monday evening, wanting to tell me and your mother what was going on, and where you’d be if I needed you. Then he gave me his intentions.”

  “His intentions?” I asked in surprise. “And what were those?”

  My dad, the devil, smiled evilly at me. “Something that I’m sure he’ll show you, as soon as he wants you to know.”

  I stuck my tongue out at him.

  “You’re mean,” I accused.

  He shrugged like it didn’t mean anything to him that I thought he was mean.

  “Part of a parent’s job, making sure their kids are provided for and well taken care of. Nowhere in the handbooks, though, does it say I have to be nice while doing it,” he informed me.

  No, I don’t reckon it did.

  Chapter 17

  My ex is a perfect example as to why I shouldn’t be able to make informed decisions when it comes to my life.

  -Tasha to Casten

  Casten

  “I’ll go in, and then I’ll signal to you when you can get the car,” Ellis, another man belonging to Hail Auto Recovery, said.

  Ellis gave me an ‘okay’ sign, and I walked up to the front of the house and pounded on the door.

  The door opened slowly, and a little girl, no more than three or four, peaked her head through.

  Her eyes went wide, and she looked back at the man I saw laying on the couch before she ran for the other room.

  I knew I was intimidating.

  To a three or four-year-old, I probably looked like a scary motherfucker.

  I turned and gave Ellis the sign, then stepped foot over the threshold.

  My eyes took everything in at once.

  The various amounts of drugs spread out on the table beside the man on the couch.

  The bong that was dangling, still smoking, from the man’s fingers.

  The dog, obviously neglected, locked up in a cage in the corner of the room.

  The direction where the little girl ran had me wondering what was back there, so I slowly peeked my head around the corner into the bedroom and stared in shock at what I’d seen.

  “Holy…
fuck.” I said. “Holy mother fuck.”

  The room was brimming with drugs. They were literally on every available surface.

  The little girl was trying her damnedest to hide under the bed, obviously not able to due to the sheer amount of shit there.

  An alarm on the truck Ellis was impounding sounded, causing me to hurry.

  Peeking into the bathroom really quick to be sure no one was there, I came back into the living room and found the man on the couch no longer asleep.

  Instead, he was at the door with a shotgun in his hand, aimed at Ellis and his partner, whose name I’d neglected to get.

  I took two long strides across the room and had the guy in a headlock before he could even turn his gun toward me.

  “Get down on your knees,” I ordered, putting as much pressure as I dared, trying to keep the man from passing completely out.

  He was a big mother fucker.

  At least six five and three hundred pounds, if not more.

  This man wouldn’t be easy to shove into my truck without cooperation on his part.

  He went down, albeit a bit unwillingly, and I cuffed him.

  First one hand, and then the other.

  “On your belly,” I ordered.

  He went, and I searched him for weapons, only turning up one cell phone and a pair of keys, presumably to the truck that was currently being driven out of the driveway by the large tow truck.

  Ellis waved at me, and I nodded my head in his direction before I shoved the guy to his back.

  “You got a kid here in this mess?” I asked in disgust.

  Normally, I would’ve gotten the kid out of the equation first if I could have, but in this situation, I deemed that the father was a higher risk to the child’s overall safety.

  He lifted up his lip in a silent snarl, and I was suddenly very tired.

  I hated how people treated their children like utter crap.

  They acted as if it was a privilege for that kid to be in their presence, not the other way around, as it should be.

  “Get up,” I said, kicking him slightly to help him along.

  He moved to his knees, then further to his feet, and started walking down the steps.

  “Go to the passenger side of the truck. Put your ass in the seat and face forward,” I ordered.

  I’d already opened the door, knowing he’d be getting in it.

  He wouldn’t be one of those men that would be bonded out quickly, like Old Lady Rona.

  This man was in for some real hard time, and most likely wouldn’t be seeing the outside of a jail cell for a very long time.

  Armed robbery, possession of drugs and attempted murder being just a few of the charges he was being accused of.

  He sat down heavily, and I attached him to the bolt I’d had welded to the floor, attached directly to the truck’s chassis.

  I’d just gotten the door closed and my phone out of my pocket to call someone to come get the little girl when the smell hit me.

  I turned and cursed when I saw the house had smoke billowing out of it.

  “Motherfucker,” I cursed, placing the phone to my ear as I ran back inside the house.

  The bong that the man had been smoking had somehow fallen to the floor under the table, catching the carpeting, then the couch on fire.

  “Shit,” I hissed, waving a hand in front of my face as I hurried to the bedroom where I’d last seen the little girl.

  She was still in the same spot, thank God, and I grabbed her by the foot out from under the bed, kicking and screaming.

  “Shhh, girl. It’ll be okay. The house is on fire,” I informed her gruffly, coughing once as I got up to my feet once again.

  “Mommy,” she cried.

  The distinct smell of reefer started to fill the air, and I pushed my legs to move faster.

  “We’ll get you to your mommy, darlin’,” I promised. “Just got to get out of this house, first.”

  We were nearly at the door when something popped at my side, completely blindsiding me with pain.

  I grunted, staggering listlessly to the side, but kept moving through the pain.

  I was down the stairs and across the front yard when I reached down and pressed my hand down to my leg, coming back with blood.

  Stopping behind my truck, I crouched down onto the ground and placed the little girl down on the ground, and inspected my wound.

  At mid-thigh on my left leg sat a clearly circular opening in my jeans where blood started to bleed through my pants.

  Mother fucker.

  I’d been shot.

  “Climb under the truck, baby doll,” I ordered her.

  She looked at me like I was crazy and dove into my arms, making me freeze in terror.

  Someone had shot me, and it hadn’t come from inside the house.

  It’d come from outside, and it was so fuckin’ dark that I couldn’t see a goddamned thing.

  Going with the hope that whomever had taken the initial shot couldn’t see me since I was no longer illuminated by the fire in the building behind me, I pushed myself and the girl as far into the truck as I could, and pulled out my phone.

  For expediency as well as the least light, I held down the one button, and it automatically connected me to Peek.

  “Hello?” Peek answered quickly.

  Good, he wasn’t tattooing anybody.

  “Someone just shot me,” I said. “Cops are on their way, but it’s not going to be fast enough. Whomever did it won’t wait until they get here to try again. I need you to send Wolf.”

  Wolf was normally my backup in situations like this. When I needed a hand, he was normally within ten to fifteen miles of me, just in case.

  I’d hoped that I’d never need to use him, but it’d been a promise I’d made to Peek, and he’d held me to it. Every time I headed out for a job, I called Wolf. And if Wolf wasn’t available, someone else usually was.

  Now I was happy he had forced me.

  Especially since now I had a child in my arms, clinging to me like I was her anchor in a storm.

  My leg was now throbbing, the adrenaline that was coursing through my veins earlier was now wearing off, making me aware of how much it hurt.

  My head was starting to pound, and I knew I was losing a lot more blood than I should, which meant that most likely the bullet had nicked an artery.

  “Mommy,” the little girl whimpered. “’Pease.”

  I closed my eyes and did the last thing I ever thought I’d do again.

  Prayed.

  Then I got up, and ran.

  The first four steps were agonizing.

  The next five were beyond gut wrenching.

  Then the shooting started, followed by the bellowing.

  I would’ve made it to the tree I was heading for, too, had I not caught another fucking bullet in the same goddamned leg, only in my calf this time.

  This time I wasn’t able to stay upright.

  I went down hard, turning my body to protect the little girl that was still in my arms.

  She cried out in terror as I hit the ground roughly, then bounced before coming to a stop with my head hitting a tree.

  I managed to roll, shielding her body with mine, as I crawled the rest of the way behind the tree, pulled my piece from the back of my pants and moved to position my back against the tree.

  And I waited.

  ***

  Tasha

  I was running.

  Running so fast that I could barely feel my legs.

  I normally would’ve fallen on my face from running this far, but I couldn’t afford the time to do that.

  Not with Casten being in the hospital.

  I’d been sitting at home, Core in the recliner and Mig on the sofa, while I graded papers at the kitchen table.

  I hadn’t initially recognized the tension that was suddenly permeating the room.

  Then I’d looked up when I heard the harsh, urgent whisp
ering between Mig and Core.

  I set the pen I was using to grade the papers down and stood up.

  “What’s going on?” I asked softly.

  Mig looked up and his lips thinned in a hard line before he stood, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

  “Casten’s in the hospital,” he said.

  I gasped.

  Core shot Mig a dirty look, then looped his arm around me.

  “Come on, darlin’,” he said. “Let’s go there and see what’s happening before we freak out.”

  I rushed to the door, snagging my purse on the way, and tore out of the house after locking it.

  When I went to get in my car, Core stopped me with an arm around my waist.

  “Goin’ on the bike, darlin’,” he rumbled.

  I shook out of his hold. “No, we are not. I’m not riding on the back of anyone’s bike but Casten’s,” I insisted.

  Core’s mouth tightened, but he didn’t protest.

  “Fine,” he shrugged, walking with me to my car.

  He held his hand out for the keys, and I shook my head.

  “No one’s driving my car other than Casten,” I insisted once again.

  He sighed heavily, but once again bowed to my irrational request, and walked around the car to the passenger side.

  I wasted no more time as I hurried to the driver’s side and got in, slamming the car door and starting it up in one fluid movement.

  Mig followed me as I rushed to the hospital, the entire time wondering what the hell had happened.

  Casten had insisted before he left that this was a routine pick up and that nothing would happen.

  He was wrong! My mind screamed out.

  My hands were utterly shaking as I made it to the first person I saw, which happened to be a security guard. One I’d made friends with when I was in the nursing program at school.

  “Steve!” I cried. “Steve!”

  Steve, one of the oldest men alive, shuffled around to stare at me.

  I’d always wondered what he would do should a security guard actually be needed, but that was neither here nor there. I just hoped that nothing like that ever happened.

  “Oh, hey girl! Haven’t seen you around,” Steve waved at me as I rushed towards him.

  Then the expression on my face finally penetrated, and he froze in place.