Blood Ties (13 page)

“How did that sound?” I asked them hopefully when we’d finished, not really wanting to hear their responses.

“Terrible,” replied Dad honestly.

The Sarge agreed. “Cacophonous.”

Jake glanced over at me. “Is that good?” he asked, uncertain.

I laughed, my humour restored. “No Jakey, that’s not good. He means we, or me at least, sound bloody awful. And he’s right.”

“Enough for tonight then,” he decided and gratefully I placed the guitar back on its stand, taking a seat at the piano instead. I lifted the lid and started playing the introduction to a song that Jake and I both loved. I stopped suddenly, noticing him about to join in on the guitar. I grabbed the tambourine off the top of the piano and twisted on the seat, holding it out to Dad, smiling.

“Feel like a song, Dad?” I asked him, shaking the tambourine temptingly. He smiled back as he took it from me. Jake and I communicated with our eyes and started playing together, Dad giving us a bit of beat with the tambourine. We’d all played this song together a hundred times before, slipping easily into its lovely rhythm. I sang the lyrics, with Jake and Dad, who both had pleasing voices, joining in with the chorus. We ended with a flourish.

The Sarge gave us a polite clap. “I hadn’t realised I’d stumbled upon a modern day Partridge Family,” he said dryly. “What a beautiful song that was. I’m not familiar with it.”

Jake answered. “It’s ‘Green’ by Alex Lloyd. One of Tessie’s and my favourites.” We smiled at each other. I had been playing it on my small bedroom stereo when we had first slept together.

The Sarge’s deep blue eyes regarded us all thoughtfully one by one, before resting on me. “You have a lovely voice, Tess. And you certainly play the piano much better than you do the guitar.” A faint smile took the sting out of his words.

“Tessie didn’t have much choice in the matter,” laughed Dad. “My mother was a singing and piano teacher. It was lucky for Tessie that she had some natural talent for my mother to build on, otherwise her childhood would have been completely miserable.” The Sarge raised an eyebrow. “My mother was determined to teach her to sing and play to her very exacting standards. My poor little girl had to spend hours learning and practicing.”

“I didn’t mind,” I chided mildly, pulling down the lid on the piano and standing up. “It was a privilege to learn with Nana Fuller. She was very talented.” Not to mention that it was the sole spark of culture in my relentless timetable of schooling and self-defence training. I’d grown up used to a rigorous routine, which was probably why I’d felt at home at the police academy when other more free-living recruits had struggled with the strictness.

“The Fullers have always been a musical family,” explained Dad. “Tessie’s mother sang like an angel. Better than Tessie even.”

“And Dad plays the violin like a rock god,” I teased fondly.

“Used to play, love,” he reminded me sadly. He wasn’t nimble enough to play anymore. I leaned over to kiss him on the forehead consolingly and took the tambourine from him, stowing it back on top of the piano.

“That’s why I don’t understand why you can’t learn the guitar better, babe,” puzzled Jake. “You play the piano so well, why not the guitar?”

I shrugged. “I dunno, Jakey. I guess I’m only good at specific things. It’s like when you tried to teach me to surf, remember? I’m a strong swimmer, but couldn’t learn to surf for love or money!” I paused deliberately. “But there are plenty of things I’m very good at, aren’t there, honey-boy?” And our eyes locked in one of those loaded secret couple glances that make everyone else in a fifty metre vicinity gag uncontrollably.

“There sure are, baby doll,” he agreed, his nostrils flaring and pupils dilating, and then repeated mindlessly, “There sure are.” Instant but unsatisfied sexual desire crackled around the room, as live as electricity.
Oh, for an hour alone with my honey-boy in my bedroom right now
, I thought longingly. Scrap that, all I’d need would be twenty minutes with him on the lounge. Hell, I’d even settle for ten minutes on the floor, here in this room, with both our phones ringing and someone knocking on the door.

Reluctantly dragging my focus away from below my belt, I suddenly remembered that we weren’t alone. I glanced over at the Sarge. Thankfully he’d managed to hold his dinner down but was regarding me silently again with those unfathomable eyes.

“We really need another guitarist or a drummer. We’re forever having to adapt songs to compensate. I don’t suppose you play the drums, do you?” I asked him optimistically.

“I’m afraid not,” he said, not entirely regretful.

“Thank God for that,” exclaimed Dad under his breath, making me giggle.

The Sarge continued. “Unfortunately my musical gene must be defective. I’ve no talent for any instrument at all. And neither do my parents, as far as I know.”

“Never mind,” I soothed. “You’re probably very good at something that none of us are. Besides guitar playing and surfing, I’m also completely hopeless at dancing.”

“You sure are,” agreed Jake, grinning. Dad nodded his head in teasing concurrence, grinning hugely as well. “She’s embarrassingly bad at dancing. Every time I see her dance I think of Elaine in that
Seinfeld
episode.”

I thumped him gently, remembering that episode and Elaine’s awkward, jerky movements. “I’m not
that
bad!”

Jake merely grinned again and I spent the next five minutes trying to tickle him into a retraction, both of us laughing madly. Realising that we were alone, the other two drifting away during our high-jinks, I moulded myself against Jake, looking up at him.

“Do you want to stay the night anyway, honey-boy?”

“Better not, beautiful. Otherwise you’ll wake up in the middle of the night to find me on top of you and inside of you.” He kissed the top of my head.

“That sounds like a good plan for tomorrow night,” I smiled up at him. “Where will you stay?”

“I’ll go to Mum’s place. I haven’t seen her for a while. It’ll be nice to catch up with everyone.”

I didn’t comment, moving away from him. There was nothing I could say about his family that wouldn’t start an argument. Even if I said something innocuous like asking him to give his mother my regards, it would only make him accuse me of being a sarcastic bitch. He’d be right too. I hated his mother and the feeling was mutual. It was best to stay silent sometimes.

We joined Dad and the Sarge in the lounge room and spent a pleasantly quiet evening watching a police procedural on TV that made the Sarge and me chuckle with amusement. Police officers and detectives on TV were always so glamorous – it was far removed from my reality. None of the characters on that show ever had someone throw up on their boots or had to fend off randy dogs. I was keen to see the end of the improbable plot, where the crim confessed easily when confronted with the convoluted, high-tech forensic evidence. But the lack of sleep the night before and the two glasses of wine caught up with me. Comfortable leaning against Jake, inhaling his familiar masculine scent and enjoying his gentle stroking of my hair, I fell asleep at a ridiculously early hour, sprawled gracelessly across the lounge.

I struggled to consciousness some time later, Jake gently shaking me and calling my name. “Wake up, Tessie. Time for bed. I’m going now.”

“I wasn’t sleeping,” I mumbled in protest. “I was just resting my eyes for a second.”

“Sure you were, babe. Come on. Up you get.” And he hauled me up into his arms. I leaned against him and closed my eyes again. He led me to the front door, eyes still shut and propped me up against the hall wall, kissing me awake in farewell.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Jakey?” I said sleepily.

“Course you will, Tessie darling. Sweet dreams, babe.”

I didn’t even wait to wave him goodbye, but stumbled to the bathroom and brushed my teeth with my eyes shut, leaning against the wall. I forced my eyes open to rinse, spit and gargle, and noticed the Sarge reflected in the mirror, patiently waiting at the door for his turn. He courteously moved to one side to let me exit, grabbing me gently by the arm as I passed him. I stopped and looked up at him in weary surprise.

“Your boyfriend told me you’ve been working for over a month straight. Is that right?”

Damn Jake. I sighed wearily. “Yeah. Des was kind of occupied.”

“That won’t happen again either,” he said seriously, then released me. We stood there for a moment, our eyes fixed on each other. I didn’t know what to think. It sounded too good to be true.

“Thanks Sarge,” I said finally and escaped. I kissed Dad goodnight and slipped into my nightie before falling into bed, patting my knife comfortingly and sleeping solidly until seven the next morning.

Chapter 6

I had a great sleep and woke up refreshed and looking forward to my jog. It felt disloyal, but I was secretly glad that Jake hadn’t stayed over because I never got much sleep when he was sharing my bed, even if he did leave me with a smile on my face that lasted all the next day. I pulled on my jogging clothes and runners and headed off down the stairs only to find the Sarge stretching, ready for a morning run himself. I did the polite thing and invited him to join me, deciding that morning to head away from the beach towards Mount Big. It was longer, harder jog than Beach Road, uphill for a significant proportion, but I decided that I needed the effort. That fun run was drawing closer.

Thinking of that, as we walked towards the gate I gave the Sarge advanced warning that I needed to take the weekend of the fun run off and explained to him why. He agreed, reminding himself that he wanted to discuss rosters with me at some point soon.
Rosters!
I thought hopefully. That sure sounded more promising than me being on duty every single day.

I threw his BMW a lingering covetous glance as we walked past it. “Nice car,” I complimented.

He looked over at it in surprise, as if he barely even noticed it anymore. “It gets me from A to B.”

“I’ll never refuse an offer to take me for a spin in it one day,” I hinted. “In fact, I’m positively drooling at the thought. You might even let me drive.”

“Not a chance. Especially with the way I saw you spin out the patrol car yesterday.” He sounded serious as he said that and I cut him a sharp look to see if he was joking or not. Once again, I couldn’t tell. He had a great poker face.

Romi was waiting patiently for me at the front gate. I introduced her to the Sarge and hid my smile as she fell instantly into a massive teenage crush. I glanced up at him. I guess he was sort of handsome in a brooding dark way, not like my Jake’s easy golden beauty. Romi was a keen reader and was studying Romantic literature at school at the moment. He was probably Lord Byron, Heathcliff and Mr Darcy all rolled into one for her.

We jogged off and by the time we returned we were all entirely knackered. The incline on Mountain Road was steeper than I remembered and my calves were complaining loudly.

“Tessie, I like Beach Road better,” gasped Romi, hanging over the stair railing. I had collapsed on the grass, my chest heaving with effort. The Sarge was sweating up a storm, but was still upright, doing some after-stretches.

“I think the planet’s moved or something,” I complained breathlessly. “Mountain Road never used to be that steep before, I’m sure. It must be climate change.”

“This fun run?” panted the Sarge. “Is it an endurance event by any chance?”

I spared some oxygen to laugh, staring up at the beautiful blue sky, enjoying the cool dampness of the dew on my back. “No. It’s an easy eight kays on flat terrain. I just want to beat my last time.”

“How are the rest of the team going?” asked Romi, doing some stretches too, watching and imitating the Sarge.

“Who knows? I don’t think they’re well-prepared. I might be the only one who finishes,” I laughed again. After a while, I managed to sit up and invited Romi to breakfast. She accepted quickly, her eyes on the Sarge the whole time. He finally noticed her.

“You did well to keep up with that slave driver,” he said, complimenting her and insulting me.

She blushed and thanked him prettily. He looked down at her with a nice smile. A genuine, friendly smile that lasted longer than a second. I was annoyed about that for some reason and stood up suddenly, stalking off up the stairs to the house.

We let Romi have the first shower. She always brought along some clothes to change into, usually staying to have breakfast with Dad and me. While she showered, I busied myself in the kitchen. I had planned on making omelettes for breakfast and was busy chopping up mushrooms, ham, onion and parsley.

“Can I help?” asked a quiet voice from the kitchen door.

“You can jump into the shower after Romi,” I said cheerfully to the Sarge, dicing onion with a passion. “Then I can have a shower and we can get the omelette station moving. I’m starving.”

“Me too. That girl is taking a long time in the shower,” he replied, stretching his arms over his head. His running shirt rose up and I caught a glimpse of his taut stomach. I was immediately distracted by that flash of masculine skin and cut my thumb.

“Shit!” I cried out, wincing with pain as onion juice seeped into the cut, dropping my knife. The blood spurted from my wound. He looked over at me, questioningly. “Cut myself,” I explained briefly.