Double Tap Page 4

  Bennett had gotten custody, though, with the help of his family.

  “Didn’t she just have that last week?” I asked in surprise.

  He shook his head. “No, two weeks ago she had the flu.”

  “Oh,” I said, shaking my head. “Poor girl. I guess that means you’ll be getting it soon?”

  He shrugged. “I always do. It’s like clockwork.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “Guess that’s part of the game of child rearing.”

  He flipped me off. “So, are we invited to dinner to meet your mystery chick?”

  I shook my head. “She’s not a mystery chick. She’s the same one I’ve wanted for forever. I’ve known her for what feels like forever.”

  His eyes flared. “Is she the chick that used to show up at all those deployments and welcome homes?”

  I nodded and sat back to pull my cell from my pocket. Then I opened the phone, and scrolled to the picture I’d taken the previous morning. The one with her and Nautica.

  Handing it over, I smiled when his breath inhaled. “Holy shit, she’s hot.”

  Of that, I had no doubt.

  Then, of course, he started flipping through the pictures on my phone.

  “Why do you have pictures of soccer cleats on here?” He asked.

  I yanked the phone out of his hands and shoved it back into my pocket.

  “I handed you my phone so you could look at one picture. Not swipe left and right. Next time I hand you my phone, be courteous,” I snapped.

  He chuckled and sat back in the chair. “No, really. Why the cleats?”

  I shrugged. “I wanted to buy Georgia a pair of cleats, but I didn’t know her size. I had to ask my sister.”

  “She used to play soccer?” He questioned, scratching the back of his head.

  I nodded. “Yeah, we both made all-state. She was pretty good for a girl. One of the only ones that could keep up with me. She’s even better than my sister. That’s how I met her. She used to challenge my sister like a wildcat on the field. That competition morphed into a relationship. Their senior year, I think they spent the majority of the time at my parent’s place. She never left from what I heard.”

  “I’m glad you think I’m pretty good for a girl,” an amused female’s voice said from the doorway.

  I turned to find Georgia leaning casually against the doorway, arms crossed nonchalantly over her chest.

  Today she was wearing black slacks and a purple button down shirt that matched part of her hair.

  Her shoes looked sexy as hell, too. Tall black heels that made her legs look a mile long.

  I stood and walked around my desk. “Georgia, this is Bennett. Bennett’s on the SWAT team with me, and an officer here. Bennett, this is Georgia.”

  Bennett stood and offered his hand to Georgia, shaking it once before letting it go.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Georgia. I’ve heard a lot about you over the years,” Bennett greeted her.

  Georgia blinked, and then turned. “This Bennie Bear?”

  I winced and looked at the man beside me. He did not look pleased.

  “Seriously, man? I don’t understand. My sister called me that one time in front of you. One!” Bennett growled in frustration.

  Georgia giggled. “Don’t worry, Bennett. I won’t tell a soul. He only told me ‘cause he knew I was sad.”

  Bennett’s indignation froze, and he studied Georgia like a bug under a microscope. “I used to play soccer. You were in my grade at a different school, from what I understand. Do you remember Corinne Brady?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Yeah.”

  I could tell she wanted to say all kinds of rude things, but that was the thing about Georgia. She didn’t talk shit. About anybody.

  “You can acknowledge your distaste,” I said, gesturing to the seat beside the one Bennett was previously sitting at. “Corinne Brady is Bennett’s baby mama and ex. They don’t get along.”

  I knew the moment she became aware of just who we were talking about, and her perfect little mouth formed a cute little O.

  Bennett’s eyes twinkled. “I can see my reputation precedes me.”

  We’d grown up in a small town about thirty minutes outside of Kilgore, TX. However, we’d gone to Gladewater while Bennett had attended Kilgore ISD.

  We were very loyal to our school, hanging out with our own, but everyone had heard about the incident involving the fake rape victim. Even me, and I’d been half way around the world. That’d been the topic of many letters back and forth to Georgia while I was overseas. It’d rocked our small town then, was still doing so six years later.

  Years ago, the incident had spread like wildfire through our schools.

  A girl had been raped, and her boyfriend, Bennett Alvarez, had let it be known far and wide that retaliation would be coming to those who’d done it.

  Well, weeks went by and nobody ever heard another thing about it until, one day, it became known that Corrinne had lied about being raped and had actually been an accomplice in the entire charade.

  Bennett had later learned that he’d gotten the girl pregnant, and they’d had a lengthy battle for custody that had continued even after the he had gone into the Navy.

  Bennett was awarded custody of his child, against all odds, thanks to his family’s help. Georgia had told me that she’d secretly been rooting for Bennett at the time of the incident and was glad that Bennett and I had become such good friends.

  It was always interesting to see Corinne, which didn’t happen much, but it did happen.

  “I can’t say that I haven’t heard your name come up in a couple stories before today. But, anyway, I just wanted to see if I could borrow your truck, Nico, for a teeny tiny minute,” she said, eyes twinkling.

  I blinked. “Sure. But why?”

  She grimaced. “I need a fridge.”

  I plucked the keys out of my pocket and handed them over. “Just don’t hit anything with it. It’s brand new.”

  She stuck her tongue out at me. “That was one time!”

  I grinned. “One time too many, Pequeña.”

  She glared at me, and I didn’t hold back the urge to laugh this time.

  “What?” I asked innocently.

  “To normal sized people, I’m normal sized,” she grumbled and walked out.

  Her ass looked fantastic in those pants, too.

  “What’d you call her?” Bennett asked, wondering why she had such a reaction.

  “Little one. She doesn’t like being referred to as small. It was a major point of contention when we were younger. She’s got a major ‘anything you can do, I can do better’ complex,” I explained as I headed out behind her.

  “I can’t believe you just handed over the keys to your truck,” Bennett said, following me.

  I wouldn’t have given it to anyone but her. Not even my own mother.

  Georgia had always been different, though. If she asked for the shirt off my back, or the boots on my feet, they’d be hers.

  We watched as she walked out to the parking lot and walked directly to my truck, a new F-150 that cost me a pretty penny.

  It was lifted and sitting on thirty five inch tires, and it amused the shit out of me as she hopped on one foot a couple of times to launch herself into the front seat.

  “I really thought those pants might rip,” Bennett murmured under his breath.

  I looked over at him and glared. “Keep your shit to yourself. She’s mine.”

  Bennett leered at me. “I don’t see a ring on her finger.”

  I punched him in the shoulder. “She doesn’t need a ring. She’s been mine since the moment we saw each other thirteen years ago.”

  He looked at me closely before saying, “You’re serious.”

  I nodded. I was being serious. Very serious.

  I’d given her the time she needed, and had taken the time I needed.

  Not a day went by that I didn’t think
about her.

  The sad thing was that even if I was with another woman, I was thinking about her. Whether it’d feel like that between her thighs. Whether she’d have the same reactions. I even closed my eyes and envisioned her when I did those things

  I haven’t, however, had sex with any of them. I could never go that far. It was hard enough on my conscience to do everything but sex. Sex with any other woman, when I knew in my heart that Georgia was mine and I was hers, went against everything I believed in.

  “Yeah, dead fucking serious,” I answered instantly.

  He sighed. “You and Roberts got them before I even saw them. How’s a man supposed to find a woman that’s worth something if y’all move in before I even see them?”

  I grinned. “Maybe if you’d start looking for quality instead of quantity.”

  He flipped me off. “Why is she so dressed up to pick up a fridge?”

  “I think she had a meeting today with her new boss,” I said, watching as she pulled out into traffic.

  I laughed when black smoke started pouring out of the tail pipes.

  “That’s not very eco-friendly,” he observed dryly. “You should’ve gotten a Dodge.”

  I shrugged. “It came down to the two, but this one was about three grand cheaper.”

  “Yeah, but I’ll always rather be cummin than strokin,’” Bennett said bawdily, referring to the names of the Ford and Dodge engines.

  I looked him dead in the eye. “I’d rather be stroked than rammed.”

  “Alright, boys. Let’s keep it classy and stop talking about which diesel engine we bought,” Reese reprimanded, coming up beside us.

  Bennett winked at Reese. “So tell me, Reese’s Pieces, would you rather be strokin’…”

  “Do not finish that sentence,” Luke’s deadly serious voice lasered out like a whip as he walked up to his wife.

  It, of course, didn’t have the intended effect.

  Bennett still finished his sentence. “…or cummin?”

  Luke growled and I stepped out of the way, taking Reese’s arm as I went.

  Reese didn’t object, going with me while keeping a close eye on her husband.

  “Lucas Roberts, you leave that poor boy alone. He was only playing,” Reese snapped when Luke made to step in Bennett’s direction.

  Luke stopped, but his glare said it all. ‘You’re going to get it.’

  Bennett’s grin said, ‘You can try, old man.’

  Luke nodded, accepting the challenge, neither of them saying a word.

  “Who was the chick?” Luke asked as he wrapped a beefy arm around Reese’s shoulder.

  Reese leaned into him and smiled as she looked at me.

  I didn’t smile back, and she scowled.

  Bennett answered Luke’s question for me.

  “That’s Diablo’s new woman,” Bennett teased.

  I hated when he called me Diablo. I hated when anyone, beside Georgia, called me Diablo.

  One time my sister calls me that in front of Luke, and now the whole fucking world knows.

  That had been a special name given to me by Georgia.

  “Who’s Diablo?” Reese asked in confusion.

  I sighed.

  “This is Diablo,” Luke said, pointing in my direction. “Although, he doesn’t like to be called that.”

  “Why do you pester him when he looks so scary?” Reese whispered to her husband.

  I snorted and Reese flushed. “Sorry,” she muttered.

  I waved it off. I got the whole ‘you’re scary’ thing a lot.

  Especially by women.

  It wasn’t something I could help, though. It was just who I was. I didn’t smile because I didn’t want to. And people got kind of freaked out when my lack of facial expression finally dawned on them.

  It was who I was made to be, though.

  The Navy SEALS had trained us, and it was just something I continued doing out of habit, even though I’d been out for years.

  “So when’s the Kumbaya this week, and where?” Bennett asked.

  “We had it at my place last week. It’s one of y’all’s turns,” Luke said, leaning against the brick of the building.

  “We can have it at mine,” I said. “Y’all just better not fucking drip on any of my furniture. It’s new.”

  Bennett grinned. “That wasn’t me, it was Michael. And Downy.”

  “It wasn’t me, boy,” Downy said, walking up and joining the group.

  I’d seen him walking up, but Bennett had had his back to him, so he couldn’t see when he’d pulled up and started walking towards us.

  Downy exchanged handshakes and gave Reese a messy toss of her hair before looking at me.

  “Some woman’s drag racing a couple of teens in your truck,” Downy said without preamble.

  I looked down at my toes and pinched the bridge of my nose before slipping my hand into my pocket and withdrawing my phone.

  “Hello?” Georgia answered.

  “Alright, Niña mala, I don’t know if you realize this, but everyone knows my truck around town. I’d appreciate it if you save the racing for when you’re in a vehicle of your own,” I growled while still looking down at my feet.

  And what did she do? Fucking laughed.

  “Bad girl’s all you could come up with? Come on, even your teenage self could’ve done better than that,” Georgia giggled.

  I sighed. “I swear to God, if you hurt my truck in any way, I’m going to give you the spanking of a lifetime.”

  She hung up and all I could do was shake my head, while laughing softly to myself. She’d always been spunky, and it was nice to see that side of her again.

  When I finally looked back up, it was to see everyone surrounding me staring at me as if I’d grown a second head.

  Hell, even some of the other officers milling about were looking at me the same exact way.

  “What are you looking at?” I asked one of the rookie officers who’d frozen in his tracks.

  He shook his head hastily and power walked inside, not once looking back.

  I turned to find Reese staring at me disapprovingly.

  “You just scared that poor kid to death. I bet he’s going to go into a bathroom stall and cry,” she scolded.

  I shrugged. “If all it takes is me staring at him to make him cry, then it’s obvious he doesn’t need to be a cop. This job will chew him up and spit him out.”

  I got murmurs of agreement from the rest of the men surrounding me, and I couldn’t help the grin that spread over my face. That woman would be the death of me, but it’d be one hell of a ride on the way down.

  Chapter 4

  Admit it. You sleep with your feet covered because you’re too afraid of something touching them in the middle of the night.

  -Food for thought

  Georgia

  Something annoying was playing with my foot.

  Creep, it had to be.

  Creep was my cat, and he was the biggest bastard in the world.

  Every morning at five, he’d start tumbling around the house. If I didn’t get moving within ten minutes of his gymnastic session, then it’d get worse. For instance, he’d lay on my chest, placing his ass towards my face, and slowly swish his tail back and forth until I either knocked him away, or got up.

  The feet ticking thing was new, however.

  So was the way he started running his fingers up my leg.

  Fingers. Leg.

  I sat bolt upright, gasping in terror.

  My mind was locked in a horror I couldn’t get out of.

  They were fighting again.

  They always fought.

  Why the hell couldn’t I have a normal fucking father?

  His angry, drunk bellows were loud. So loud that they had to be in the hallway next to my door.

  The hard thunk-thunk of something hitting the wall had me standing in angry indignation.

  My mom wasn’t a fighter. She
’d sit there and take it like it was her duty.

  When I didn’t hear anything else, I decided to get back in bed.

  There were no more angry shouts, no whimpering, and no crying. I deluded myself into thinking that she was fine and laid back down, pulling the covers up over my head.

  Today had been a long day, and my father hadn’t helped one damn bit. It’d been me and the bigger boys moving the cattle; my father just sat on the front porch drinking like he normally did.

  It wasn’t until I was nearly asleep that I felt the hand around my ankle.

  It was strong and relentless as I tried hard to stop myself from being pulled down the bed.

  My struggles were for nothing, though, because my father had a death grip on my ankle, and he was about five times stronger than me.

  My legs swung free of the bed, and my upper body soon followed as my body hit the floor with a strong thump.

  My head slammed against the floorboards, but I had no time to react as I was dragged like a bag of trash down the hall and into the living room.

  I wasn’t screaming. I was trying to, but I couldn’t catch my breath.

  My father’s face looked thunderous as he threw me down onto one of the kitchen chairs. I ended up next to one of my brothers, and then my father bent down looping my hands together with one of his, and threading a zip tie around my wrists. He pulled it painfully tight, grabbed me around the shoulders, and sat me upright in the chair.

  My head was spinning as I started to struggle, but it was too late.

  He had my legs zip tied to the chair legs, surprisingly smooth for a man that I could smell the whiskey pouring off of him.

  That was when I finally looked around and saw all of my brothers in much the same predicament I was in. They were all strapped to the chairs, them with duct tape and zip ties instead of just the ties. They all looked incredibly frightened, and were looking at me to tell them what to do.

  “I don’t know,” I cried.

  Then my dad stopped and pulled a gun out of his shirt.

  “I don’t know,” I pleaded, shaking my head.

  Then he pulled it up and aimed.