Join the Club (SWAT Generation 2.0 Book 7) Read online

  I pulled it out to see two words in a text from Booth.

  Booth: Made it.

  I showed it to her, causing her to smile.

  God, was she beautiful.

  And right then, with her hair swaying around her chin, I was struck momentarily speechless.

  She was so fuckin’ beautiful that it hurt.

  I wanted her.

  I wanted her bad.

  But I couldn’t have her.

  Brother’s baby mama.

  Brother’s baby mama.

  I chanted those words in my head as I took a few steps back from her.

  When my hips met the counter, I nearly cursed.

  I needed space.

  I needed room to get away from her before I did something stupid like tell her that she was pretty.

  Or that I wanted to fuck her face.

  “It’s slowing,” she said. “Wow. The weatherman was right for once.”

  I didn’t even glance out the window.

  Couldn’t.

  I just couldn’t look away from her beautiful face.

  Her beautiful blue eyes. The way that her lips curved up just the smallest amount at the edges.

  I wanted to lean forward and kiss her.

  “And it’s stopped,” she said. “Amazing. What the hell was the point?”

  I practically had to peel my eyes away from her as I glanced out the window.

  “Rain is rain in the middle of the summer,” I admitted. “We didn’t get as much rain in the winter months as we normally do, and our spring was kind of light, too. Meaning that we’ll take what we can get. Even if it’s a fifteen-second rainstorm.”

  She grinned and turned her eyes up to me. “True.”

  I needed to get out of there.

  Now.

  “Do you have a towel that I can borrow to wipe off the seat of my bike?” I asked.

  She nodded, walking to the laundry room that was right off the kitchen and coming back with an old looking towel.

  It’d definitely seen better days.

  “Nice,” I said at the multitude of stains on it.

  “It’s a dog towel. I use it to dry them off after baths. Sometimes they chew on it when they’re done,” she teased.

  I nodded, tucking the towel under my arm.

  “I need to go. Thank you again,” I said.

  “You know, you could just ride with me,” she said. “It makes sense since we’re going to the same place.”

  She was technically correct.

  But I just couldn’t stay in the same car with her, smelling her unique scent in a confined space. Even if the drive over was only ten minutes.

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “But if I get a SWAT call, I’ll need to be able to leave.”

  She pursed her lips. “You could just take my car. But I heard you talking with Booth earlier. He said that y’all were just on call to be on call, correct?”

  Yes, technically, she was correct.

  Our SWAT team was split into two teams. Unless something big that a team of six couldn’t handle and required all twelve of us, we normally switched nights being on call. Today was my night to be on call to being on call.

  “Then drive with me. That way you won’t get your tux wet,” she offered.

  I wish I could’ve found a better excuse, but I’d fucking used the best one that I had.

  “Okay,” I said. “Fine.”

  She rolled her eyes, and I wanted to kiss her smart mouth.

  “Don’t make me pull your leg or anything. If you want to ride and get wet, fine, do it. I’m just thinking of all those wedding pictures you’ll be in with your dirty pants,” she said.

  She was right.

  Dammit.

  I gestured toward the door. “Are you ready?”

  She hustled into the living room, bent over the back of the couch, and I damn near had a heart attack.

  She had on black underwear.

  Lacy black underwear.

  And goddamn garters.

  Son of a bitch.

  Goddamn garters.

  What did I do to deserve this?

  I swear to God.

  I just couldn’t deal.

  I couldn’t.

  I was on the verge of saying that I was taking my motorcycle when she said, “Can you drive? I don’t want to take my heels off. And I’m not quite sure I can do a six-speed in these.”

  I gritted my teeth and held my hand out for her keys.

  She tossed them my way instead of handing them to me, and I licked my dry lips before saying, “Yeah.”

  We walked out of the house seconds later, me stopping to make sure the front door was locked securely before heading to her Jeep.

  Delanie drove a newish Jeep Wrangler four-door. It was bright red and always struck me as flashy as fuck.

  I’d never drive something so bright or eye-catching.

  Mostly because I drove fast, and when I drove fast, I didn’t want the color of my car to bring a cop’s attention to me.

  Which was funny, seeing as I was a cop.

  “Hey, Mr. July!”

  I looked up to find Delanie’s neighbor, my little fucking sister Priscilla, waving at me.

  I flipped her off.

  Priscilla laughed and went back into her house.

  “She only does it because it drives you insane,” she teased.

  “I know,” I rumbled as I walked to her door and held it open for her.

  She used the running board to get inside, and I once again had a flash of lacy garters.

  My dick went hard, and I mentally berated myself for looking.

  My brother’s baby mama.

  My brother’s baby mama.

  “Thanks,” she said as I backed away and closed the door.

  Rounding the Jeep’s front bumper, I got in seconds later and started it up.

  My sister’s front blinds went open again, and I made sure to flip her off again for good measure.

  “You’re just as bad as she is,” she said.

  I chuckled as I put the Jeep into gear and started to let off the clutch.

  “My sister is annoying and too young to be living on her own,” I said. “She’s only eighteen, and she should still be at home. Not living in the country in her ex-boyfriend’s grandmother’s house.”

  There was a long moment of silence.

  “I never did hear how that happened,” she admitted. “I used to see the two of them over at the grandmother’s house before she died. I’m not sure how it went bad, though.”

  “Priscilla and Gadron dated for a year, I think. They broke up, but Gadron’s grandmother, Beverly, really liked her. And since the grandson got himself hooked on drugs, Beverly had no one to leave her stuff to. So she left it all to Priscilla. I swear to God, at dinner last week when she said that she was moving out, I thought that my mother and father were going to lose their shit,” I admitted as I shifted into second, followed closely by third.

  “Booth hasn’t said much,” she admitted.

  “Booth thinks it’s a great idea. He was gone at eighteen. Priscilla is very mature, and he likes the idea of someone being close to you and Asa, so of course he’s going to be happy that this happened,” I admitted.

  She made an understanding sound in the back of her throat.

  “That makes sense,” she said. “Asa loves having Priscilla there, too. In between you showing up out of the blue, him getting to spend more time with Booth since I’m traveling so much, and Dillan? He’s a really lucky kid.”

  That wasn’t luck.

  At least, not in my opinion.

  It was what a family should be like. Asa should have caring aunts and uncles that loved him. He should have a mom and dad that he meant the world to.

  Dillan and Delanie were the unlucky ones.

  Their dad was a piece of shit.

  A real piece of work that never ceased to piss me off each time that I
had the chance to see him.

  I dodged a downed tree in the road, and Delanie craned her neck to look over her shoulder at the large branch that was overhanging the road.

  “Do you think they know that’s there?” she asked curiously.

  Just as I was about to say ‘I have no idea’ a cop came around the corner, going slow.

  “They know,” I said. “He’s probably heading there now to mark it so drivers know to slow down.”

  The branch was too big to move.

  It’d be staying there until the highway crews could come out and remove it.

  The rest of the eight-minute drive took us no time, and when I pulled into the parking lot, I was surprised to see it completely full. We were likely one of the lasts guests to arrive.

  “Thanks for the ride,” she said. “I really don’t like driving in the rain.”

  I knew she didn’t. Any time that there was rain, either Booth or I went to pick Asa up from her if it was Booth’s weekend.

  Neither one of us minded.

  If she was uncomfortable, we weren’t going to be upset for wanting to keep her child safe.

  “I know you don’t,” I rumbled softly. “You need help out?”

  In answer, she slid out of the seat, and I once again got an up-close and personal view of her backside.

  Was she doing this to me on purpose?

  I really thought she might be.

  And if she wasn’t, then goddamn, I would hate to see what it was like when she was trying.

  Chapter 2

  Your favorite food.

  -Things you shouldn’t Google when you’re hungry

  Delanie

  “That dog is badass,” Copeland said.

  Copeland Black was the man that I was to meet, along with Copeland’s four-year-old son, August, aka Auggie.

  Janvier Boudreaux, the man that had asked me to come and meet Copeland and Auggie, was sitting to Copeland’s right. On Janvier’s left was Massey, the three-year-old English Mastiff.

  Massey, doing what he was trained to do, lay at Janvier’s feet, appearing to be asleep.

  Auggie was playing on what looked to be an old-school Gameboy. He was flicking away at the buttons, his tongue between his teeth, looking as if he was fully immersed in the game.

  Asa was like that, too.

  They’d get along.

  I knew it.

  Which made me miss my happy little baby.

  Asa and I had spent more time apart in the last six months than we’d ever spent apart before, and it was starting to fray my nerves.

  I missed my baby.

  I missed him a lot.

  I also missed seeing his uncle, who seemed to stop by almost every single day, even if it was for a five-minute hug and cookie share.

  “I didn’t know that it was supposed to rain more,” I said as I looked across the room at Bourne.

  He was talking to his friend and fellow SWAT team member, Saint Nicholson. Saint was deep in conversation with Bourne, his hands moving wildly, and Bourne was nodding his head as if whatever Saint was saying was super important.

  “Yes, it’s supposed to be bad. We have the chance of tornados,” Janvier continued. “Which means there’ll be lightning and thunder. Yay.”

  Lightning and thunder were one of the things that set off Janvier’s PTSD episodes.

  It was also why he’d gotten Massey in the end.

  Texas was notorious for thunderstorms, and since Janvier wasn’t willing to move out of the state to a more weather-compliant area, he had to go off-roading when it came to his PTSD.

  Which was where Massey came in.

  “You leaving before it starts?” Copeland asked Janvier.

  “You bet,” he said. “I don’t want to get caught here and have any problems. It’s overall a better idea for me to head home just in case.”

  I agreed wholeheartedly.

  From what I’d heard, Janvier was a fighter when he was in panic mode. One of the men that’d come with him to pick up Massey had been very vocal about how badly Janvier needed someone to get him under control.

  Apparently, the last straw had been when Janvier had nearly shot a cop in his hysteria. That cop being his wife at the time.

  Now, Janvier was divorced, and he had a dog that kept him warm at night, not a woman.

  According to the men here today, anyway.

  I looked at my watch and wondered if it was too early to leave.

  I’d been here for an hour, and now I was regretting asking Bourne to ride with me.

  Social functions gave me heartburn.

  I’d gone to enough over the course of my life to realize rather fast that they just weren’t for me.

  My father, David, had been a career military man.

  But just because he was career military didn’t mean he wasn’t rich.

  He got that from his family back home in Iceland. Mainly his father, my grandfather, who was now deceased.

  My grandmother—his mother—was still alive and kicking. For now.

  But the time would eventually come that she would pass, and when that day came, my father would officially be a billionaire.

  Which meant all the social functions that he attended would only get more frequent—not that I cared anymore.

  Ever since I’d had Asa, I was ‘cast out’ so to speak.

  My father didn’t talk to me.

  He did talk about me, though, which was sometimes even worse.

  He let everyone know that I was a little slut who didn’t deserve half of what I got.

  “Do you charge for these dogs?”

  The question was asked by a woman off to the side. I think that I heard her name was Jamie, but I wasn’t quite sure because she hadn’t actually been introduced, per se. She’d just shown up and started hanging on Copeland’s arm.

  Copeland’s son, Auggie, had taken one look at her and ignored her for all he was worth.

  Copeland had tried to do the same, but the girl just wasn’t taking the hint.

  “Of course she charges,” Janvier said. “Otherwise she couldn’t make a living.”

  “Well, it’s not like the dog is anything special. She just said that it was a lab. Labs cost what, five hundred dollars?” she said, waving her hand through the air. “So what are they, like five hundred dollars? I could use a dog to take around with me to places. Service dogs are dogs that can’t be told no to entry, right?”

  I gritted my teeth.

  “Technically, if you have a service dog, no, you can’t be denied entrance,” I said stiffly.

  “Massey cost me five thousand dollars,” Janvier said. “And he was actually a good deal. The ones I was pricing in Missouri were about ten grand more, Jamie.”

  Jamie’s mouth fell open in surprise. “That’s… that’s outrageous. Who would pay that much for a dog? He better be able to give me golden shit for that.”

  “I spend almost fifty to seventy hours a week working with my current dogs. I have four. And that’s not even including cleaning out their kennels and getting them some exposure. Sometimes during the week I have to take them all out individually and get them accustomed to being around people. Experiencing new places and things. Just last week I spent over an hour and a half at Lowe’s just letting the dog experience the sounds and smells. Since he’s a service dog, he’s not petted like normal dogs. So that entire time we were constantly walking, moving, and dodging,” I said. “Then there are vet bills, grooms, and all kinds of other things that come up.”

  Jamie rolled her eyes as if what I did was inconsequential to her.

  “I still think it’s not worth what you’re asking.” Jamie shrugged. “I’d never waste my money on a dog that’s priced that high.”

  “You think there’s a price I can put on my kid’s life?” Copeland asked softly.

  Jamie froze at Copeland’s words.

  Sensing that this was a subject that I really, really
didn’t want to be a part of, I gathered what was left of my cake and high-tailed it out of there.

  I walked directly to Bourne, hoping that he would be ready to go.

  But as soon as I got to him, I knew that he wouldn’t be.

  His friend, Samuel Adams, was standing next to him.

  And beside them? The bride and groom.

  They watched me walk up to them, completely different expressions on their faces.

  Saint was welcoming and grinning.

  Bourne? Not so much.

  I could never, ever read Bourne.

  It’d been somewhat of a game between my sister and I, trying to see who could guess what he was thinking and feeling.

  Ever since he’d started spending more and more time with us over the years since Asa’s birth, I’d always been unable to read him.

  The only time I ever saw him smile was when he was with Asa. Not even when he was with his brother did I see that calm, blank façade crack.

  “What’s wrong?” Bourne asked almost immediately.

  Obviously, I wasn’t a blank mask.

  I gestured toward where Copeland was still talking to Jamie.

  “That woman made the offhand comment that my dogs weren’t worth what I sold them for. Said that I was asking too much and she would never waste her money on it.” I paused. “And Copeland, the man that I was telling you about and his son? He kind of went all ‘I won’t put a price on my kid’s life’ on her. So I got up and left.”

  Bourne winced. “Some people just need to learn to keep their mouths shut.”

  “Agreed,” Sammy murmured. “Fuck, I’m tired. I was up all night last night, then we had that SWAT call this morning. I feel like my eyelids are lined with sandpaper.”

  “Agreed,” Bourne murmured. “I have to work in the morning, too. But it’s not every day that you see one of the men you never expected to get married do just that.”

  The groom shrugged. “When it’s the right one, it’s the right one.”

  I offered my hand to them both, introducing myself.

  “I’m sorry to crash your wedding. Thank you for extending the invite,” I said softly.

  Ellie, the bride, only smiled. “I’d do anything for Copeland.”

  With that cryptic comment, she tugged the groom away and directed him toward another crowd of people.

  The moment they were gone, I turned to look at Bourne.