Arrest (A Disarm Novel) (10 page)

“Did you bust them?”

“I did,” he said, bobbing his head. “But I felt bad about it. Hell, I remember being one of those kids.”

“Yeah, I remember,” I murmured into my drink.

“This job is . . . not what I originally thought. It’s more taxing than the Air Force, emotionally at least,” he said softly. “It’s like I’m being dragged in a thousand different directions, but at the end of the day, I have to pull myself back together.”

“How are you dealing with that?”

He gave a shake of his head. “Sometimes I’m not so sure I’m doing a good job of it. My biggest fear is that, one day, I’ll come home and find her gone.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because it’s happened to so many other guys at the station. My marriage is not impervious to it.”

“Have you told her all of this?”

“No,” he said with a rueful grin. “I’ve had a hard time communicating with her lately. I see the way she looks at me, with awe and adoration, but if I tell her all of this, I’m afraid that she’ll look at me again with fear.”

“Fear? What does she have to fear?”

“That I’ll leave her again.”

I swallowed hard, recognizing the truth in his words. “Well, I don’t think you should keep anything from her. She needs to know all that you’re going through.”

“If I tell her everything, she’ll have nightmares. I’d rather not put her through that.”

“You don’t think she can handle it?”

“She definitely can. I just don’t want her to.” He stood up then, signing the bill. “Well, I’ve got to get going. Can I walk you back to your car?”

I lifted my glass with half a finger still of Scotch. “I’m not quite done yet.”

He took the glass and slid it away. “Ready?”

I held a hand up to my throat. “I’m not the kind of girl who goes home with a guy after one drink, even if he is a really hot cop.”

“I’m just doing my duty, making sure you make it to your vehicle safely, ma’am.”

I took his hand and we headed out the door. At my car, I reached for the door handle when suddenly he caged me in with his arms, his breath heavy against the side of my face. “I’m not normally attracted to badge bunnies,” he said, his hands sliding up the back of my thigh. “But you’ve got something about you that gets me so riled up.”

I gasped when he pushed his erection into my backside. “Officer, are you frisking me?” I asked with a smile.

His voice was impossibly raspy when he said, “Come with me and find out.”

It took us approximately seven minutes and fifty-five seconds to get home. I parked and raced out of the car with my heart pounding. Henry caught me at the foot of the stairs and locked his hard arms around me. “Lola, you’ve been a bad girl,” he said, tracing the curve of my neck with his tongue.

I froze. “Henry . . .”

“No. My name’s Officer Smith tonight,” he said, biting my earlobe. “And I’m here to arrest you. Unless you can convince me otherwise.”

I was arrested all right, completely captivated by this man and this new game we were playing. “Then tell me what I can do, Officer.”

He released me and took a step back, beckoning me with his finger as he backed into the living room and onto the computer chair. “Take off your clothes.”

It struck me then that we were in exactly the same place I’d intended, only we’d taken the long route. But then again, wasn’t that the story of our lives? Nobody could ever accuse us of taking the easy way to the finish line.

I started with my top, slowly lifting it over my wigged head to reveal my black bra.

He leaned back into the chair, his legs spread wide before him as he adjusted the crotch of his jeans. “Now your skirt, Lola.”

I unbuttoned the miniskirt and stepped out of it so that I was standing in nothing but my underwear and heels. With the wig and makeup still on, I could almost believe that I was a different person, someone whose only goal was to seduce this sexy cop in front of me. In that moment, I
was
Lola.

“Take it all off,” Henry said, palming his erection through his pants.

With one quick snap, my bra came falling away from my chest, freeing my breasts that had become heavy with need. I slung my thumbs into the waistband of my thong and began to pull it down, keeping my legs straight as I bent down to give him a nicer view of my assets. I kicked the panties in his direction; he caught them midair and held them up to his face.

“So turned on already,” he said, biting his lip as his eyes caressed my entire body. He sat up and beckoned me closer. “Come here.”

I slinked over to him in my heels, completely intoxicated with his obvious need and the way it made me feel so sexual. If we’d had a stripper pole, I would have gladly jumped on it to keep his hungry eyes trained on me.

He spun me by the waist and kneaded my behind. “I love this ass,” he said, giving it an exploratory smack. I squeaked when he slapped it again, hard enough to send my flesh rippling. “Did that hurt, Lola?” he asked, smacking me again.

“Yes,” I breathed. “But it feels good.”

“Get down on your knees.”

I complied, going down as he stood up and pushed his pants and underwear down to his ankles. I watched with hungry eyes as his erection sprang free, long and thick and hard as granite. I licked my lips, eager to taste him.

“You like what you see?” he asked with a smirk.

“I don’t think I can fit it all in my mouth.”

“You can try,” he said, leaning forward and pushing the tip against my lips. I opened my mouth a fraction as he pushed in, my tongue flicking out to taste the first sign of his arousal. My hands splayed on his hard thighs, feeling his muscles straining as he inched his shaft farther into my mouth.

“Yes, Lola, like that,” he said as he began to thrust, gradually pushing deeper inside. “Relax and breathe.”

I did as I was told and soon I was taking him in deeper than ever. He threw his head back and groaned. “Shit, yeah,” he ground out a moment before taking hold of my head and pumping in earnest.

I held on, making a vacuum with my lips as he fucked my mouth. Before I could blink, he pulled out and was down on his knees, grabbing my hair and my chin and crushing my mouth against his. His tongue invaded the space his shaft had previously inhabited, swirling around with my own until I was breathless and dizzy. On and on the kiss went, the taste of Scotch and beer and precum intermingling in our mouths.

He stood suddenly and took me with him, throwing me onto the couch as easily as if I were a rag doll. He positioned me so that I was on my knees on the couch, my hands resting on the backrest and my ass in the air.

I twisted my head around to watch him pull off his remaining clothes, my eyes blazing across his chiseled body. God, he was physically perfect. Tall and brawny, with a wide chest and large biceps, his muscular legs balancing out his upper half. “Damn, you’re sexy,” I found myself saying.

He grinned a moment before he took hold of my hips and surged inside me, filling me up with one smooth stroke. I tried to reach around to touch him, but he grabbed my wrists and held them behind my back.

I leaned my forehead against the back of the couch, completely at his mercy as he pumped into me, groaning through his teeth as he did so. His fingers dug into my skin, lifting my hips higher to allow him deeper inside me, my muscles squeezing, holding on for dear life. I parted my lips to speak, but before I could tell him how good he felt, his fingers were invading my mouth. “Remain silent,” he said. I sucked on his digits as he rammed into me, winding me tighter and tighter.

He pulled his hand away abruptly, then I felt him spread my ass cheeks wide and circle his damp fingers around my puckered hole. I gasped, never realizing until now how sensitive that area could be. Every stroke sent tingles straight to my core, pushing me closer to orgasm.

Then his thumb penetrated me, pushing past the burn, making me gasp at the invasion. The rest of his fingers splayed on my back as he began to rock into me once more, the pleasure now magnified twofold.

The orgasm tore through my body like an electric current, my legs nearly buckling as my entire body seized with tremors. Still, Henry held me in place as he continued to ram into me, skin slapping against skin, his cock so deep it was almost uncomfortable, until he was quavering, growling out my name.

“I love you, Elsie,” he said, bending down so that his body covered mine, his arms wound around me, clutching me to his damp chest. He spun sideways and we collapsed on the couch, his semihard shaft still embedded inside me.

I don’t know how long we lay there like that as our breathing started to slow. I’d been too caught up in the moment to even notice, but somewhere along the way, he had pulled the wig off me and thrown it into the messy pile of clothes on the floor.

He might have been able to talk to Lola, but it was the real Elsie he truly wanted.

More and more, having a beer with his buddies after a shift became the norm, so I too forced myself to become more social. I often stayed out with friends from work, going to dinner or attending happy hour at the bar down the street. I also started hanging out with Allison, who was quickly becoming my LEO-spouse Yoda.

It wasn’t ideal, being separated from Henry in such a way, but it was the only way I stayed sane. Being alone at home, with the past there to haunt me, sometimes proved too much.

One night, while Allison and I were at my house drinking wine and watching a show, I asked if her husband was also in the habit of hanging out at the bar after work.

“Yes,” she said. “It bothered me for the longest time until the chief’s wife talked to me. She told me it was natural for cops to prefer hanging out with their own kind, because they’ve gone through the same things together. Camaraderie and all of that.”

I knew it was unreasonable but it hurt to think that there were some things Henry could not—or would not—share with me. It was like a wedge between us that was driven deeper each time he kept his feelings from me and unloaded them onto other people instead.

But I had to be the understanding wife. It was expected of me.

Even when he was home, Henry seemed antsy and often went to the gym or for a run, anything, it seemed, but spend time with me. I could feel him drawing away, reminding me of the time he came back from Afghanistan a different man, of the first time I’d felt completely helpless as I watched him withdraw from me.

“Do you think you should give Dr. Galicia a call?” I asked him one night, when he actually seemed content to be at home.

He looked up from his book and frowned. “Why?”

“I don’t know. To help you sort through the things you’re going through.”

“I’m not going through anything.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he said with a smile that was meant to reassure me. “Besides, we have police counselors available. Should we need them.” Then he went back to reading his book, a nonfiction work called
Tactical Evasion Techniques.

Seemed to me like he could have written it himself. “Then why have you been avoiding me?”

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” he murmured behind the book.

I waved a hand at him. “Exhibit A, Your Honor.”

He took a deep breath and set the book down on his lap. “I’m not avoiding you or ignoring you or whatever it is you’re accusing me of.”

I sat on the bed. “I’m trying to be understanding, Henry. To be the good LEO wife. But you’re making it so hard, especially since you’re never home.”

He put the book on the nightstand and sat up too, gathering me into his arms. “I know and I’m sorry. I’m just finding my footing here. It’ll get easier after a while, I’ve been told.” He pulled away and held my face in his hands, a gesture I didn’t realize how much I’d missed until that moment. “Tell you what, I’ve got the weekend off. Let’s go out of town. Let’s rent a cabin in the mountains and just get lost in the wilderness.”

I nodded, tears stinging my eyes. “Okay.”

“Friday I’ll pick you up after work and we’ll just go, get away from all of this.” He pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. “I promise.”

—

Friday afternoon came and I admit I was getting very excited. My bags were packed and waiting in the car, and I had crossed off the important things on my work to-do list. Everything else would just have to wait until Monday.

At four o’clock, Conor called everyone to the break room for a surprise. We filed into the large space and wondered what was underneath the red fabric on the counter. “Ta-da!” he said as he pulled the cloth away with a flourish, revealing a two-flavor slushee machine. “As per request,” he said, his eyes suddenly finding mine across the room.

I chuckled in surprise, impressed that he even remembered.

Conor handed out a stack of large paper cups. “But the best part,” he said with glee in his eyes. “Is that it’s filled with margarita mix and strawberry daiquiri mix.”

Kari squealed beside me as she grabbed one of the cups. “Oh hell yeah,” she said, then called out, “Best. Boss. Ever!”

Conor pointed at her and laughed. “And don’t you forget it!”

For the last hour of work, people either drank in the break room or took their drinks back to their desks to finish working. Conor stood on the adjoining balcony and smoked with a few people, obviously enjoying the atmosphere.

I sat with Kari and a few others at one of the orange tables and shot the breeze, heedless of the high alcohol content in our cups. I kept my phone with me, watching it closely for Henry’s call, but by five fifteen, I started to get that sick feeling that our weekend getaway was not going to materialize. I sipped on my daiquiri, hoping I was wrong, that the feeling in the pit of my stomach was just alcohol-related.

At five thirty, Henry called to confirm my fear. “I’m sorry, Els,” he said. “They’ve called me in since they’re short one man.”

I couldn’t help the whine in my voice when I said, “But it was your weekend off.”

“I know. But I can’t leave them one man down.”

I took the call away from the break room, standing out in the hallway. “Henry, you promised.”

“I’m sorry, but this is what the job entails.”

“Fuck the job,” I hissed, the alcohol fueling my anger. “If your job is more important than your wife, then go. But don’t expect me to be home when you get back.”

“Elsie,” he said, his voice gritty with warning and worry. “Don’t do that to me. You of all people know about duty.”

“You know what duty did to me? It killed my brother, it broke my boyfriend, and now it’s taking away my husband.”

“I can’t do this right now,” he said in a terse voice. “I have to get to the station. We’ll talk later.”

I hung up, not bothering to say good-bye, and leaned against the wall furiously trying not to cry. I ran to the bathroom when the tears could not be contained and I cried in the stall, sobbing silently and wiping at my tears with toilet paper.

I shouldn’t have been surprised. I should have known better than to place my hope on promises made of clouds.

—

When I emerged from the bathroom nearly fifteen minutes later, I’d collected myself and fixed my makeup and hoped that my red eyes didn’t give me away. Conor walked by my desk with a self-satisfied smile. “So what do you think?” he asked, his hands in his pants pockets.

I think I’m not handling the LEO life very well. I think I’m not handling marriage very well.

“The slushee machine is a nice surprise,” I said with a fake smile.

Conor, for all his flirtations and faults, was shrewd at reading body language. It was what made him such a good businessman. “You okay?” he asked, peering at my face.

I took a deep breath and faced him squarely, red-ringed eyes and all. “No, I’m not, and I’ve had too much alcohol to even bother trying to hide it,” I said, then picked up my purse.

“You’re not driving in that state,” he said quickly. “Stick around and get sober first.”

I shook my head, even though I knew he was right. I was stuck here until I got some food in my stomach and the alcohol wore off.

“We can go get some food at that new Korean restaurant down the street. We can just walk there,” he said.

“Conor . . .” I meant to remind him that I was married, but rationalized that getting dinner with another man was only as platonic as I wanted it to be. If I never acknowledged Conor’s attraction to me, then it would just seem as if two friends were going out to dinner. Henry had friends of the opposite sex who he confided in; why couldn’t I? “I think that sounds like a great idea.”

But like a guilty fool, I walked out first, afraid that people would see us leaving together. “I’ll go ahead and get us a table,” I said in a low voice that was a whisper that didn’t want to appear so. “While you finish up here.”

At the restaurant, I chose the seat with my back to the restaurant so as not to be recognized. I felt myself relax as we received our drinks and Conor made a joke about my trying to get sober with more alcohol.

“I need this tonight,” I said, taking more than a sip of sake.

His shrewd eyes watched me. “I’m afraid that will get you the opposite of sober.”

“So be it,” I said, raising a cup in the air and taking another drink.

It occurred to me then that I’d been getting drunk way too often the past few months, which was unusual for me. I only realized I’d spoken the thought aloud when Conor said, “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“For me there is. I don’t like getting drunk and losing control.”

“There’s nothing wrong with letting go of the reins once in a while,” he said, completely charming me with that slight Irish brogue. “Let loose and have fun.”

“What if I’m just not marriage material?” I asked.

He grinned. “Maybe you are but you’re just married to the wrong guy.”

I turned a blind eye to the intimation and asked him instead, “Are you?”

“Am I the wrong guy?” he asked, laughing.

“No, I mean, are you the marrying type?”

“I was but not anymore,” he said with a shrug. “These days I’m more about cultivating Shake. But should the right woman come along, I might be convinced to change.”

“I think Henry is disappointed in me because I’m not ready to try for another baby,” I blurted out then laughed at my uncomfortable confession. “Wow, where did that come from?”

Conor shook his head. “It’s okay. You can talk to me.”

I gave a short nod, feeling a sense of relief wash over me because, for once, someone was around to listen. “It’s like he’s married to his job and I’m just the mistress who tries to snatch up whatever crumbs of attention he deigns to give me.”

“I was married once,” Conor said. “But obviously it didn’t last.”

“What happened?”

“I was too focused on the business and neglected her. I took her for granted, basically, thinking she’d wait for me forever. Turns out, I was wrong.” He gave a humorless chuckle. “It sounds like Henry is suffering under the same misconception.”

I nodded with a lump lodged in my throat.

Conor’s green eyes were vivid and bright, even in the restaurant’s dim interior, when he said, “The next time, I’ll shower her with the love and attention she deserves. Show her every day just how much she means to me.”

I averted my eyes as my cheeks warmed. “Do you miss Ireland?” I asked.

“I don’t give myself the chance. I try to go at least once a year,” he said, moving on to the next subject seamlessly. “Have you ever been?”

I shook my head. “No. We lived in Germany when I was little, but I don’t think we ever made it across the pond. Not that I remember much since I was about four years old at the time.”

“It’s a fantastic place, full of legends and myths. I’ll take you sometime.” When he realized what he’d inferred, he added quickly, “If Shake ever has business there, I mean.”

His words reminded me of another man who had once promised me Prague for our honeymoon but hadn’t been able to deliver due to lack of funds. Now that Henry was a cop with a starting salary of forty-six thousand dollars a year, it seemed less likely that I would ever leave the country.

The memory of our time in Key West filled me with guilt and melancholy. Was it only less than a year ago when we’d had the time of our lives, so excited for the future? I already felt a decade older than that girl who’d spent an afternoon with Henry coming up with funny names for the penis.

Determined to shake off the sadness, I filled our cups with more sake then lifted mine in the air. “To losing control.”

“To losing control,” he echoed and clinked his glass with mine.

—

A long while later, we left the restaurant feeling giddy and refreshed.

“It’s nice to have someone to talk to,” I said as we walked back to Shake’s parking lot. “Thank you for listening.”

“Anytime, Sherman,” he said and, for once, I didn’t bother correcting him. He stood by my car and waited until I located my keys in my purse. “You sure you’re okay to drive?”

I waved his worries away. “I’m fine. I’ve had a few hours to metabolize the alcohol.”

He looked at his watch. “Wow, it’s already past eight,” he said. “I was supposed to meet up with Julian at seven thirty.”

“I’m sorry to keep you,” I said.

“Not at all. I’d much rather spend time with you than with a guy any day,” he said with an affable grin.

“Well, it’s been fun.” There was a pregnant moment when our eyes locked, when my heart pounded in my ears because even my own conscience wanted to turn a blind eye. I wanted to kiss Conor in that moment, wanted to again experience the excitement of the unknown. It was an intoxicating feeling, this being wanted.

But in the end, it wasn’t in my heart to cheat. Not when my husband was faithful, and especially not when he was currently doing his job protecting the city.

“Good night, Conor,” I said and got into my car, watching him in the rearview mirror as I pulled out of the parking lot. I had driven less than a block from the office when red and blue flashing lights lit up behind me. The instant panic of being pulled over throbbed in my chest, and I turned into a restaurant parking lot trying to recall just how much alcohol I’d imbibed. It wasn’t a lot, but it wasn’t a little either.

To my relief, Henry emerged from the cruiser. I watched him through the side mirror, hardly able to breathe as the confident and powerful man in black uniform walked my way.

“Can you step out of the vehicle please?” he said in a commanding voice.

I mumbled something about his innate ability to be so bossy and stepped out of the car. The moment I stood before him, he grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me in for a tight embrace. “I’m sorry, Elsie,” he said against my hair.

I melted into his body, forgetting why I was mad at him to begin with.

We stood like that for a few moments before he pulled away and was once again the stoic police officer. “Have you been drinking?”

I held up my thumb and forefinger. “Just a bit.”

“And you’re driving?” he asked, drawing his dark eyebrows together and folding his arms over his chest. “You know better than that.”