Coup De Grâce Page 2

I saw Paxton, a PA that worked with us, looking at the room that I’d just managed to get the hell out of.

  “Gunshot wound to the head,” I whispered, trying really hard to forget, yet not managing to accomplish that very well.

  “Fuck me,” Paxton breathed.

  I liked Paxton.

  He was a very sexy man with dark brown hair that curled over his ears, and a beautiful blue set of eyes that could make any person’s heart start to flutter.

  His heart only fluttered for men, though.

  Specifically, his significant other that he’d met just a few months ago through a mutual friend of the two.

  “Yep,” I said, turning away and washing my hands in the sink that sat right next to the exit that the paramedics used to transfer patients in and out. “I’m going to run to Starbuck’s. Want anything?”

  Paxton shook his head.

  “Nah, I just had a candy bar. My ass can’t take any more calories today,” he said sheepishly.

  I rolled my eyes.

  My ass definitely couldn’t take it either, yet I couldn’t find it in me to give a shit at the moment.

  I definitely took after my curvy mother.

  I had what my sisters liked to call ‘child bearing hips.’

  Big boobs, big hips, toned thighs (that, might I add, were still on the bigger side of acceptable) and a chin that was questionably close to what they called ‘double.’

  My friends and family didn’t see what I saw, the imperfections.

  They said I was beautiful.

  I said I was chunky.

  To-ma-toes. Tom-a-toes.

  Don’t ask me why I did what I did next.

  It could’ve been because I was crazy. Or it could’ve been because I knew he needed it, but I did it with no ulterior motives.

  “I want a twenty ounce amaretto latte, and a twenty eight ounce black Americano,” I ordered.

  She young teen smiled, busying herself steaming my milk and shaking cinnamon sprinkles on my frothy milk that collected at the top of the drink.

  “That’ll be eight fifty,” she said, holding out her hand.

  I shoved a ten in her hand and said, “Keep the change.”

  She smiled. “Thank you.”

  Taking my two coffees, I walked back down the hallway to the ER. When I turned the final corner that would take me into the ER, I ran straight into a brick wall of flesh.

  Instinctively, I lifted my hands up to save the coffee, and inadvertently padded my collision with my breasts which pressed up against a hard, well defined chest. They instantly pebbled.

  “Oh!” I said in surprise.

  “Fuck,” a deep voice hissed out, hands moving to my hips to keep me steady.

  That voice always had the capability to send shivers down my spine.

  “Michael,” I breathed, smiling timidly at him.

  “Nik,” he sighed. “Sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

  Bringing my cups down, I stepped back, and instantly regretted the loss of his heat.

  I knew, though, that the longer I stayed there touching him, the harder it’d be to move away.

  “I got you this,” I said, shoving the coffee in his direction.

  He caught it before I could spill it all over his chest, but to be honest, his shirt really couldn’t get much worse.

  Not with the massive amount of blood I could see soaking it.

  He’d have to throw this one away.

  It may be black, but there was no way he could get the blood out of this one.

  The white lettering that designated him a KPD officer was stained red, and I had a feeling that it wouldn’t come out. Not with any amount of scrubbing.

  “Thanks,” he said, sounding surprised.

  “You look like you needed it,” I muttered, walking around him to the door that led into the ER.

  He smiled sadly.

  “‘Preciate it,” he muttered, staring at the coffee like it was the answer to all of life’s questions.

  Seeing him like that made me remember the last time he’d done that.

  It’d been at a SWAT meeting that’d turned into an impromptu party when I’d shown up with a box full of tamales from my mother.

  ***

  Two years ago

  “Holy crap that man’s freakin’ hot!” I said to my best friend in the whole wide world.

  Georgia was freakin’ beautiful. Just as beautiful now as she had been when she’d left.

  And I’d missed the absolute crap out of her.

  Georgia smiled over at me.

  “Which one?” She asked cheekily.

  I knew that was right.

  They were all overly hot.

  Except my brother. He was just my brother, and eww. That was just wrong to think of that… on so many levels I couldn’t even list them all.

  “Everyone but Nico. He’s ugly,” I told her.

  She gave me a roll of her eyes. “Your brother is beautiful, and you damn well know it.”

  I shrugged.

  “I was talking about Michael,” I stated, watching as he leaned forward on his chair and laced his fingers between his knees.

  Georgia rolled her eyes.

  “Why are you always going for the bad ones?” She asked, forcing a beer in my hand.

  I blinked.

  “I don’t like beer,” I said, extending my hand to her, as well as the bottle.

  She gave me a pointed look. “Go take it to him. He asked for it.”

  Butterflies started to churn in my belly, and I smiled at my best friend. “I love you, you know.”

  Georgia’s eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “Don’t make me cry. Take it to him before I do.”

  Sticking out my tongue, I walked across the space separating Georgia and me from the men.

  I knew he’d clocked me from the moment I left Georgia.

  He wasn’t so much as watching me, as he was aware of me.

  When I arrived at his side, he turned his face up to me and looked at me, not smiling.

  “Your beer?” I offered it to him.

  He took it from me carefully. So carefully that he didn’t touch a single piece of my skin in the transfer.

  “Thanks,” he muttered, smiling half-heartedly. “’Preciate it.”

  I had seen him before. Noticed him at SWAT events. Watched him while visiting my brother. That was the night I became aware of him.

  That I became obsessed with him.

  That was the night that my world changed, and I wished upon a star, while standing under the star-lit sky with Michael next to me.

  Hours after handing him that beer, he told me about his ex-wife. About his job. About how his wife blamed him for not wanting kids, as for why she’d cheated on him.

  That was the night I fell in love with him.

  Head over boot heels.

  ***

  “Do you need some clothes?” I asked softly.

  He shook his head. “No. I’m gonna go straight to the station and change into my workout gear. Thanks for the offer, though.”

  Smiling, I punched in the code that would get me through the door, but stopped when Michael called my name.

  “Nikki?”

  I turned to find him staring at me.

  His eyes full of pain.

  “You…you want to catch dinner and a movie this week?” He asked hopefully.

  I blinked, then a small smile split my face. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.”

  He nodded, turned, and walked out of the building. Not once glancing back.

  And there I was left in the hallway, practically bouncing on my toes in excitement.

  Then I turned around, and the smile slowly fell from my face when I saw Joslin standing there, her eyes full of fire.

  Choosing to ignore her, I walked past her with a muttered, “Excuse me.”

  But I knew that wouldn’t be the end of it.

  Not even
close.

  Chapter 3

  Friday. My second favorite F word.

  -Coffee Cup

  Michael

  Needless to say, I was very late showing up to my mother’s party.

  By over an hour.

  I was wearing a white t-shirt and black jeans that had so many holes in them that they could technically qualify as shorts.

  And my tattoos were showing.

  Something my mother was definitely not going to like.

  But it couldn’t be helped.

  I could either go home and change, and make her happy because I was covering my tattoos and be later. Or I could be late-ish and come uncovered.

  It was a lose-lose situation, and I really could care less at this point.

  I wanted to have this dinner about as much as I wanted my nuts cut off.

  Alas, I loved the hell out of my mom, and would suffer greatly for her happiness.

  Kind of like having to share a fucking dinner with my ex. She was the worst mistake of my life, yet my mother refused to tell her to fuck off.

  Pulling up to my parent’s house, I got out and dropped to my feet.

  I drove a jacked up Ford F-150, much to my parent’s consternation.

  We were a car family, pure and simple.

  Or at least they were, not me.

  I loved my truck.

  I could get it dirty and not worry about the interior because that was what trucks were for.

  Shoving the keys into my pocket and turning to grab the pie I’d had in my truck since this morning, the coffee cup that I’d downed the moment I got into my cruiser fell to the floor.

  My eyes lit on it, and I smiled, thinking about how Nikki had given it to me.

  She knew me well.

  Or as well as I let her know me.

  She knew me better than my entire family, and she’d only ascertained the information in about ten total meetings.

  She’d gotten more from me in one night than Joslin had gotten from me in a year and a half.

  “About time you showed up,” my brother, Dean, said lazily from the glider in the middle of my parent’s yard.

  Bending down, I picked up my coffee cup and placed it gently into the cup holder of my truck before gripping the pie and slamming the door.

  “Yeah,” I muttered, walking up the front walk.

  “Heard about your day. Sorry man,” my brother said sincerely, blowing out a breath of smoke he’d just inhaled from his cigar.

  My brother and I weren’t what you would call ‘close.’

  We were family, of course, but that’s where that ended.

  He was the prodigal son. The one who did everything right, while I did everything wrong.

  And sometimes it was hard not to resent that.

  Really hard.

  “Thanks,” I muttered, opening the door once I came to it.

  The first thing I noticed was that no one was in the living room where they usually were, and that I could smell dinner wafting from the kitchen.

  The smell turned my stomach.

  Eating was the last thing I wanted to do right then.

  Not with the memory of Baby Nathan’s blood pouring out of his body as I held him on the way to the hospital.

  “He’s not coming, I think we should just eat,” Joslin said huffily.

  I rolled my eyes as I made my way down the darkened hallways that would lead to the kitchen and formal dining room where I assumed they were all gathered.

  “He’s coming. He texted me when he was leaving the hospital,” my sister, Hannah, defended.

  Hannah and I were the closest in age.

  Irish twins.

  She was born ten months before me, in the same year.

  Me, being the baby, was the surprise that everyone still liked to point out was the accident.

  “Thanks, Hannah,” I said, walking into the kitchen and placing my pie on the countertop. “I’m here, so the party may begin.”

  The last was said once I was in the dining room, which meant everyone turned to watch me walk in the room.

  My father and Hannah didn’t bat an eyelash at my attire.

  My mother and Joslin, though, did.

  Not that I cared.

  Nor was I surprised.

  Taking the seat to the right of my dad, and directly next to Hanna, I placed both hands in my lap and waited, like the good boy I was, for dinner to be served.

  Which only happened once Dean made his way back inside from his smoke break.

  All the while, I spoke with my sister about her daughter, Reggie.

  Reggie was a boisterous two and a half year old that was with her ex-husband for the night.

  “Reggie told me I was to ‘watch my step’ today because I was telling her what to do. Can you believe that? I bet Joshua taught her that one, too,” Hannah said snottily.

  I snorted.

  Needless to say, Hanna and her ex didn’t get along.

  Not even a little bit.

  “Actually,” I amended. “That was me. I’m sorry. I said that to her two days ago when I was watching her.”

  Hannah sighed. “I guess I should be happy you didn’t teach her how to say cuss words, I suppose.”

  My father snorted. “You and Michael were cussing by the time y’all were three and four. Mainly because your Uncle Paddy thought it’d be funny to teach you them. It was real exciting to slam on my breaks to avoid hitting a car and have the two of you say ‘fuck you’ and ‘what the fuck’ respectively.”

  Hannah giggled while I laughed.

  My mother, on the other hand, didn’t.

  Apparently, she didn’t find it funny.

  “Alright, we can eat now,” Joslin cooed as Dean made his way into the room, breaking the silent death glare I was getting from my mother.

  Once grace was said by my father, he started to serve himself, and passed the dish around the table.

  Once I dished up two pieces, I passed it to my sister, and then so on.

  We didn’t do a sit down dinner often, but when we did, we were expected to actually sit down at the table instead of in front of the TV like we wanted to.

  “It’s good, Beth,” my father said around a mouthful of food.

  My mother smiled. “Thanks.”

  I looked down at my untouched food, and couldn’t say the same.

  It reminded me of the gore from the double wide.

  What I’d later learned was a cop from a neighboring city, and his wife, who was a stay at home mom to their ten month old.

  And as I picked at my food, I couldn’t help thinking about the cop.

  What had happened?

  Had he slipped through the cracks?

  Had he needed help, and no one noticed?

  Would I have noticed had he been my friend?

  If someone had intervened, would the mom still be alive? Would that baby growing in her belly still be sheltered in her mother’s womb?

  “Michael, Joslin tells me you had an interesting day,” my mother said, bringing my attention from my plate to her.

  I shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so. Nothing special.”

  Joslin, never one to let something go, sat forward.

  “You saved that baby’s life. You’re the reason that he’s alive! You’re the talk of the hospital,” Joslin crowed.

  I shrugged, not answering.

  I really, really didn’t want to think about it anymore.

  Like really.

  So much so, that if she continued not to catch the hint, I might have to leave.

  “Well, I have some news,” my brother said, breaking the awkward silence.

  I turned my attention to him, and saw him watching Joslin weirdly.

  “We’re engaged!” Dean smiled, holding Joslin’s entwined hand up with his.

  I blinked, surprised.

  My mother, who loved Joslin to pieces, stood up and clapped loudly.

 
; My father and Hannah, though, turned to me, watching me for a reaction.

  I shrugged again.

  I didn’t care.

  I should warn Dean, though.

  They didn’t know why Joslin and I had broken up.

  They only thought that the dissolution of our marriage had happened because we’d fallen out of love. Joslin had practically begged me not to tell them because she and my mom had grown so close.

  “Congratulations!” My mother crowed excitedly.

  “You okay?” My father asked worriedly.

  That was when I realized he’d known.

  That was what the hesitation had been about earlier.

  “Fine, why?” I asked.

  Hannah looked at me, almost as if she was waiting for me to break apart.

  “You’re sure?” She asked persistently.

  I nodded. “Yeah. It’s good for them,” I lied.

  I really should’ve told them why we’d split. Yet, I couldn’t because Joslin had acted like…well…Joslin.

  “Mom,” I said, standing. “Do you mind if I have a sandwich? After today, this isn’t very…appealing.”

  I had to eat no matter what. My medication couldn’t be taken on an empty stomach or it wouldn’t be absorbed correctly. And if it wasn’t absorbed correctly, then we’d be in a very different situation than we were now.

  My mom looked at me, and I mean really looked at me, and she saw right through my flippant attitude and immediately dropped Joslin’s hand and started hustling to the kitchen.

  I followed her, keeping my eyes on my mother’s back instead of on Joslin’s annoyed face, and Dean’s pissed off one.

  Whoops.

  Spoiled their big reveal. My bad.

  She may love Joslin and Dean, but she loved her baby boy more. Tattoos, disappointment, and all.

  “They told me about today,” she whispered once she was in the kitchen.

  “I…I don’t like it. I feel like I should’ve done more. Been faster. I don’t know. He was a police officer,” I told her.

  That tid-bit hadn’t been released as of yet.

  So when she gasped and whirled around, a block of cheese in one hand, and a Tupperware of cold cuts in the other, I realized I’d surprised her.

  “What?” She asked in horror.

  I nodded. “The murder suicide was with a cop and his wife,” I confirmed.

  “God, that’s horrible. And I heard the doctors talking. The baby will live, but they’re not sure about what cognitively was effected yet, correct?” She asked, placing the food on the counter and making me a sandwich.