Authors: Amy Love
Elias briefly went through what he had been told by Chelsea, who was now giving him her full attention. He added what he learned this morning about her probation.
"Was it a felony?" Larry asked. "And if so, does she have her 5th waver rights back?"
Elias relayed the question, and told her who Larry was.
"Um, well, yes, and yes," she answered, lifting an eyebrow.
"Patience," he smiled at her, and then relayed the information to Larry.
"Well, that is bad and good, more good than bad though."
"What do you recommend on the legal end Larry?"
"Well, first we'll get a restraining order, citing physical and mental abuse with the threat of continuing violence now that she has left him. Then we'll file a lawsuit against him for the same," Larry told him.
"Probably nothing will come of it, but police are gossips. Having two process servers show up in the course of a couple of days will draw a lot of attention, and he'll have to cover his ass with the department."
"I see. She has a car, a Mustang with vanity plates. He'll probably find that today or tomorrow, and my gut tells me he'll impound it once he does. Since he has no legal reason for doing that, shouldn't we hold off on the lawsuit until he does, or at least on the outside, until next week? Wouldn't that give you some tangible cause for both the restraining order, and the suit?"
"I like it," Larry agreed. "Very much, in fact. I'll leave it to you to let me know when that happens."
"Got it. I'll get some guys to work shifts checking on the car and hire some spotters."
"Again, I leave that to your capable hands."
"I'll also draw up the papers and come down to your office later today to have them notarized."
"I'll do the same with my services. That should cover her as far as the legal ends of things, and give you the right to shoot him if he shows up. Good. Now, what about places to list in the restraining order? Stay-away places."
"Hmm," Elias murmured. "Well, take down this address—it's a rental I have that is vacant. I'm planning on flipping it over in the next couple of months. That will be a good red-herring. The Log Cabin as well." Elias gave him the addresses.
"Let's add Doc's office as well, and Duffy's shop. I'll put Duffy's down as a place of employment, and the Log Cabin as the same," Larry said.
"She's an enterprising young woman, she has two jobs. Both are red-herrings of course, but they are good ones."
"I like it. Anything else?" Elias asked.
"I'm sure I'll think of something, but you'll be here this afternoon so we can start with this. I'll have him served today. Does she know if he is working today?"
Elias asked her, and she nodded, saying, "Tonight—he comes on shift at five."
"Got it," Larry said. "I'll have the restraining order served to him at his desk as soon as he is on shift. Very public and interest-drawing."
"Have her bring a dollar for me," Larry chuckled.
Elias hung up the phone, and walked to his room with his cup of coffee.
"Elias?" she called after him. "I know you mean well, but a restraining order is just a piece of paper. It's not going to stop him, and might just piss him off. And doesn't this let him know where I am?"
Elias came back out of his room, putting on his shoulder holster and then sliding his 9mm into the leather. "Yep."
"Yep to what?" she asked, looking at the gun.
"Both. But not really. It will give him an idea of where you are at, but keep you safe as well. Even if you decide to leave today, it will throw some snow on your trail, and keep him in town for at
three days—probably more like two weeks."
"Two weeks?" she laughed, "You don't know Tomas."
"No, you don't know
." He smiled. "I know my job. Trust me."
"You are a stock investor, Elias!" she whined.
"I'm also a licensed bodyguard with a concealed weapons permit, and twenty men under my discretion. All of which are ex-military, thirteen of those from the military police, just like me. I know what I'm doing. You mentioned that you have money?"
"Yes?" she offered. "How much do I need?"
"One for me, and one for Larry. That makes us legal, and we can run herd for you to bog him down."
"Once we have it notarized at Larry's office, yes. Also, it will give me the right to shoot him without going to jail, so I would appreciate you doing this much to help yourself at least."
"Alright," she told him, sounding a little worried. "Would you really shoot him?"
"Hope it doesn't come to that. If it does, then I fucked up somewhere big time. But yes, I really would, and I wouldn't lose any sleep over it either. Now, what would you like for breakfast?"
"What was that about my car?"
Elias described the parts she didn't hear.
"Elias, you are just going to piss him off. Cops look out for each other. They really, really do."
"True, and I know this from personal experience. Like I said, I was military police in Afghanistan. But there are a few things cops really hate from their own: one is being a wife beater, and the other is being a stalker. It makes them all look bad. He'll have much less support when it gets around that he is using resources from the force to harass you."
"You really believe that?"
that. Belief has nothing to do with it. The only thing worse is a cop who is a rapist, or child molester. Now, breakfast?"
"Do you have to wear the gun now?"
"No, just wanted you to see I had it, and that I mean to use it if necessary. I plan on keeping you safe as long as you are here, and for several weeks after you leave. By the way—I think twenty dollars a day, plus twenty to chip in for food and drinks would be reasonable, don't you?"
"Um, yeah, sure. Isn't that a little bit cheap?"
"I wouldn't charge you anything, but you strike me as a woman who likes to pay her own way, so you would feel better paying something. This way, we can both be happy and save face, and get down to important matters."
"Like swimming in the pool, sun bathing, work, and breakfast. Did I mention breakfast already?"
She laughed, and he liked the sound of it.
"Yes Elias, you mentioned that. Eggs? Bacon? Juice?"
"Got all three. Put your feet up, and I'll throw something together. How about a cheese omelet?"
"Oh, that sounds perfect," she gushed with a smile.
"There is also a hot tub out back. Sunscreen is in the small cabinet by the bike."
"I don't have a suit."
"The fence is high. No one will see you, and I'll be in the office which faces the other way. You'll be all alone. I do it all the time. I'll get one of my t-shirts, black, so you can throw that on when you get out of the water, or stop sun bathing. Seriously, treat yourself this morning. We'll head over to Larry's at one. I'll be working until then, and oblivious to everything else."
"Hmmm. I think you are just trying to get me naked,"she said playfully.
"I would like to protest, but the thought does have its appeal. However, you have already made it very clear what your boundaries are, and I will respect them."
"Why?" she asked, seeming serious.
"You haven't lied to me yet. You haven't told me the whole story, but you haven't lied. Keep that up, and I'll keep my end up. Deal?"
She searched his eyes. "I don't know what to think about you, Elias. I want to trust you, I really do, but it runs contrary to previous experience to trust anyone. But, yes, deal."
"Good, I'll get some breakfast together, and we can start our day," he said. "Oh, you said you know how to ride, yes?"
"Yep," she agreed.
"We'll stop by Duffy's then on the way home and see if his loaner Sporty is available then. That way you'll have some wheels to go shopping or whatever."
"You don't want me riding on the back of your bike?" she asked.
"Mine is a V-rod, single seat."
"Bet that went over well with Shelly," she said with a grin.
"Didn't have it then. Bought it after. Like I said, we are kind of in the same boat in that area. Not really looking."
"Well, be that as it may, it would be nice to ride again. I always loved riding. In fact, I almost bought a bike before I bought the Shelby."
"Shelby?" He whistled. "Nice."
"Oh, it is. Very nice."
Detective Tomas Brick came into the office at five on the nose and walked toward his desk. Just as he was about to turn out of the main isle to his area, a large man stepped up to him and asked, "Are you Detective Tomas Brick?"
"You have hereby been served a restraining order against you, including stay-away locations, in regards to Ms. Chelsea Shore for physical and mental abuse. Have a nice day."
The man handed him the papers and strode off.
Tomas looked around. The floor was between shifts, so it was packed with people coming on and going off, and most of the people in the area were now looking at him. They shifted their gaze as he scanned the room, but they all heard what the man said.
"Motherfucker," he hissed as he walked to his desk. Slamming down into his chair he opened the papers and, sure enough, there was the restraining order, and five addresses that he was not to come within five hundred feet of. Also, he was not allowed to call, write, or contact those places in any way, or have them contacted on his behalf. The order was for thirty days, at which time a hearing would be held to see if there was cause to extend the order for a year.
"If that bitch thinks this paper means shit, she's got another thing coming," he spat.
His partner, Mike Wilson, briefly looked up from his reading and then back down at the case notes he was going over.
"What?" Tomas asked him.
"You break that order, and I'll probably have a new partner the next day. Don't be stupid."
Tomas was about to cuss him out, but snapped his mouth shut. This wasn't the place to lose his cool, and his partner was right—in a way. In another way, he was dead wrong.
That bitch is dumber than I thought
, he hissed to himself.
If he could talk to her, then maybe he could get her back and work things out. But since that wasn't an option now, well, she couldn't just walk around with the stuff she had in her head and the fifty grand she stole from him when she left, now could she? No, she couldn't. So… that didn't leave very many options open did it? Nope, not many at all.
On top of that, despite all he had told her about man-hunting, she gave him five addresses—all in the North Huston area—telling him exactly where she was. Where she was living, where she was working, where her doctor was, and whatever this other place was. Gynecologist? Whatever, it didn't matter. One address was all he needed.
He knew she was still in the area. The black and whites picked up her car this afternoon, and she didn't leave on a plane or train. With her sweet ass, she might have hitchhiked, but that was unlikely. She was a mouse. She would have been too scared to hitchhike.
The closest public bus line stop to her car was the 108, which went up to North Houston. So he already had a feeling for where she was held up. She wouldn't stay outside on the street. Checking the hotels would be the first thing he would do, though he doubted that he would find her in one of those. From the looks of things, she shook her pretty sweet ass and hooked a cowboy to take her in. Selling pussy was easy enough, and it seemed she took to it without hesitation. It was probably this cowboy's idea to get the restraining order.
Her car was impounded as a possible getaway vehicle for a drug deal gone to murder case on his desk. So, she was on foot. Of course, with fifty grand of his money she could easily buy another car. But it gave him some satisfaction to take from her the thing she valued most: her Shelby. It was like yanking off one of her tits.
"Get some coffee and calm down. We got a new one, just came in. We roll in fifteen," his partner told him.
Mike Wilson was coming up on retirement. He had twenty-four years in Narc, and was basically famous on the floor. He knew his shit. Damn good detective. Well, not so good that Tomas couldn't work around him, but he was good at catching drug dealers and closing cases. His only real flaw was that he
Mike believed in the system, in the brotherhood, and in his partner. All of which was complete bullshit. So, if a few kilos of coke didn't show up at the locker out of fifty, well, Mike figured the count was right, because after all, his partner counted the haul. If a few thousand in bills didn't make the same trip, well, same logic, same belief.
"Yeah, alright. I'm going to get a coke—you want one?" Tomas asked.
"Naw, I'm good. Just walk it off. You ain't the first with bitch problems. Hell, I've had three of those things delivered to me in the last twenty years. Do what I do. Pin it up in the bathroom so you can look at it during those special moments on the shitter and forget about it," Mike told him.
Tomas got up and threw the papers on his desk. "Sounds like good advice. I'll do exactly that. Fuck her. Wasn't going to go near her anyway."
"Exactly," Mike agreed.
"I'll be back in ten," Tomas told him, and walked toward the break room. Inside he pulled out his phone while buying a cola and called his real partner, James Stewart—probation officer and fellow criminal.
"Hey, what's up?" James asked.
"Bitch sent me a restraining order. Can you believe that shit?"
"Wow. That's ballsy. Didn't think she had it in her."
"Well, I'll take care of her. We're going to need a new mule. Anyone with a nice ass on your docket?"
"Got a Mex with a cute butt. Not like Chelsea's, but cute enough to fuck. I think we can bring her in. She even feels like she would get into it," James told him.
"Good. Feel her out, but don't make any moves until I deal with Chelsea," Tomas told him.
"Sounds good. Later partner."