Only Love (9 page)

Big time.

Maybe I misread the signs with Aubrey. I mean, I didn’t plan what happened. Kissing her. Tasting her. But that’s what I wanted, what I felt like
she
wanted too, which was why I had or I never would have went there with her. I must have gotten lost somewhere along the course of the events last night. Maybe I picked up signals that may not have been there. But then again, I didn’t think so. She said she
shouldn’t
with me. Not that she didn’t want to.

Was there someone else?

That question plagued me since last night, and into today at the start of my shift, my partner driving us around the residential neighborhoods, tapping his finger on the steering wheel while he whistled. If I was being honest, that question haunted me a bit earlier as well. Aubrey had a child, and whether it was just she and Rissa the majority of the time or not, her baby had a father. He might be in the picture, he might not, but he was there.

I should have asked her about him. You can never assume anything when it comes to dealing with a situation that involves a child. That was my fault. I wouldn’t make it again. If she didn’t say anything first the next time I saw her, I’d ask. I really liked Aubrey, yes. But I’d back off if that’s what she needed me to do. It wasn’t just her in this situation, and I needed to be conscious of that.

Don’s deep laugh kicked up beside me, causing his dark mustache to move with the sound. “Check that out.”

And I did, just ahead to a vintage muscle car stopped at the light in front of us. The owner took care of his baby. A perfect shine gleaming off the rims and a fine paint job let me know this work wasn’t done by an amateur. I didn’t consider myself much of a car guy, but I could definitely give a nod to some nice art. A comment beside me let me know that’s not why Don called attention to the vehicle.

“Everything on that car is probably hot,” he said. “These people.”

He smirked and pointed at the back to a detail I missed because what other reason would I have to call attention to it. His index figured directed to the bumper, a decal of a Puerto Rican flag on the back.

I glanced back to the light, not regarding the comment or the action. I’d like to say instances such as this never happened with Don. Damn, did I. But unfortunately, I couldn’t. The man was a damn good cop, but even the best of us could be the most shortsighted.

The light changed and I forced myself to ignore the turn in my gut by yet another occurrence of this with Don today, but the feeling didn’t ebb away long. Our dash vibrated as the car ahead turned on their radio at the change of the light. The sound of music I normally listened to cut through the air, but at about ten times the volume I listened to it. We cruised behind the vehicle for a bit, not following as we were on route, but when Don’s knuckles went white on the wheel, his jaw working at the car traveling down the street in front of us, I realized every meter traveled could easily be interpreted as tailing. We headed down a back alleyway with them, and I knew for sure we were off course for the day.

I cut a look to Don, sighing a little. “Maybe we should just let this one go.”

Yeah, their music was loud, but my partner needed to keep his cool these days, lie low and not make waves on tiny details. Our precinct was under the public eye again after a case we all thought went cold when Manuel Lopez was put away.
He
was under the public eye again. Don could be hot headed, but he couldn’t let that rule his actions. Not now. Just not
now
. We had no idea what we were dealing with in regards to the Lopez case, but if the nightly news meant anything, we had reason to take the reopening of it seriously. Representative Garcia was letting it be well known the family had his support, and it was only a matter of time before the details of that day would be highly scrutinized. If not more than it was before. IA would be asking Don questions soon about the events, and myself by association. I had been there that day, a detail that had followed me every day since.

This man today and the volume of his music was not a pressing issue, could be overlooked, and if I’d been by myself, I would have given the guy a break. But I was with my partner, and as we continued to follow the vehicle, I honestly didn’t know if he was pursuing out of the obligations of his job or something else entirely. That worried me.

Don flashed our lights and gave a quick chirp to the car’s siren, my words all but ignored. He slowed down to the speed of the car ahead of us. “Won’t take but a second, kid.”

A second. Lots of things happened in seconds, careless acts and poor choices, and this felt like it could be one of them. I watched anxiously as he got out of the car. He had his hands on his hips, close to his belt loops, and I noticed his right hand. He had it awfully close to his gun holster, unnecessarily so, and when he stopped in front of the car and settled his hand on top of it, my mental fear came to fruition.

He was using the position of his hand to intimidate, and I didn’t like that. Not at all.

The driver rolled down his tinted window, and Don leaned forward, looking inside. The loud music softened and I could only assume the two were talking. I couldn’t hear a word he said at my position, but I was on edge. It felt, for some reason, like I was waiting for something to happen and not knowing what that something was didn’t sit well with me.

I worked my hands in my lap until my anxiety became too much and I moved one of them, edging back to my own holster. If I had to act, I would, point a gun to talk someone down. It scared the hell out of me that I didn’t know who that person would be.

Suddenly, my partner rose up his tall frame and he removed his hand from his gun. He turned toward me. Lifting his hand, he gestured me over with his fingers, and that action brought down the previous intensity rolling around in my chest like an angry wave of fire. Don looked nothing but calm. He wasn’t going to do anything.

I lowered my hand from my own holster and to the door handle, stepping outside. He met me as I just cleared the hood of our car to his side. He had the man’s license in his hand. “I’m going to run his license,” he said, palming it. “Keep an eye on the two.”

I nodded without question, heading over to the vehicle. I didn’t know what probable cause made him want to run the license, but I didn’t ask. That would be disrespectful, and I trusted Don’s judgment. I got over to the driver window of the car and bent to say good day to him. I did, and noticed immediately he was a kid. He was barely twenty, if that, and had an even younger guy in the seat next to him. The two looked like they were playing thug for sure. All tatted up, they had an anger in their eyes that maybe saw hardship, but fortunately nothing more than that. I knew that look. Saw it every day on the streets and at the precinct, and what these boys were sporting wasn’t it. These kids weren’t hardened criminals, and if they had done anything, I highly doubted it was any worse than a misdemeanor. They hadn’t traveled into that life yet, and that made today’s pull over even more unsettling. I hated how people reacted to my uniform, how they associated it with negativity, and things like today only reinforced that stereotype that cops were one thing.

Bullies.

The kid greeted me with a nod after my salutation; his lips in a thin line that spoke of anything but a positive greeting. After that, I let him be and waited, surveying the neighborhood with my gaze while we all waited for Don. I heard him speak to his passenger, the two choosing to speak in Spanish instead of English. I didn’t take offense. I might have done the same if the situation was reversed and I assumed the officer before me didn’t speak the language. I ignored it for the most part, but when I did pick up a few negative phrases, ones targeted at my partner, I decided to stop them before they said anything incriminating. I didn’t speak a whole lot of Spanish, but I got by between what I learned in college before leaving to go to the academy and what I absorbed on the streets of course. Between the two, I knew enough to understand what they thought of the man over thirty years my senior, my superior. He was an officer of the law and deserved to be respected.

I squatted, leaning down, and they both stopped midsentence. The kid behind the wheel turned his head slowly, his lip turned up like he smelled something unpleasant while staring in my direction. He didn’t like me in his space. I got that, but it needed to be done.

I didn’t react to the expression or the tension, choosing to uphold my own expression, and that was one of content to let him know he had no reason to be aggressive. I patted the open window. “Just keep it civil, okay guys? We’re just doing our job. There’s no need for the language. Once Officer Kline is done, we’ll be on our way. Even quicker if you cooperate.”

He got the hint, that I understood what he’d said before, but that didn’t faze him at all. If anything, he got bolder, actually choosing to smirk at me. He opened his mouth. “We know exactly who you two are, and Officer
Kline
,” he said, tilting his head back toward the direction of Don, “ain’t never just doing his job.”

This kid was treading on thin ice, beyond that, but despite the fact, I didn’t stop him. Perhaps, it was because he said he knew us. He knew
us
, and that gave me pause.

It made me uneasy.

“Your partner,” he paused to lick his mouth, his breath thick with the remnants of smoke, “better come with it because we got help. Got people fighting for us. People that care. People way more powerful than your boy back there. And around here, we don’t forget. We
never
forget, so your partner and his plushy retirement might not want to get too comfortable. Because you see… what goes around comes back the fuck around.”

I slammed my hand down on the window, and he blinked, both boys did, and that ebbed my temper. It ebbed it because their ages flashed before me in that instant. This was only a kid, a kid with an empty threat. It had to be and nothing more. As I said, the case was reopening and Representative Garcia was on the news nightly discussing the details. This kid probably picked something up off a discussion of it, recognized my partner and myself, and thought he could handle me today.

Regaining my cool, I raised my hand, calmly and slowly. “Just cool it, okay? I take people in for saying less than this normally. I don’t want to do that, so don’t make me do it to you—or him.”

His eyes flickered to the right, but he didn’t stare at the other guy in the car, the other kid. But he did acknowledge his presence, and I immediately knew he cared in some way, shape, or form about him. This could be his younger cousin. A brother.

He gazed ahead and I rose up at steps that closed in to the side of me. Don. He handed the kid back his license and I stepped back so he could.

“Everything checks out,” Don said gruffly, sniffing quickly and making his mustache twitch.

I couldn’t see him, but the kid mumbled another phrase in Spanish in front of him. Something I knew Don didn’t understand as he didn’t speak the language. The kid said four words: “Of course it did.”

“Just keep it down, all right?” Don continued. “The music. Not everyone wants to hear all that, ya hear?”

I could see enough that the kid nodded. Don walked away and I went to follow him.

“We see you, too, Officer Holloway,” the kid said, making me pause my steps, and one other thing as well, making a sudden uneasiness settle upon me. “Driving around…” he continued. “Going by our gravesites. Your conscious getting the better of you or something?”

My hands gripped their position on my hips, but I didn’t say anything. I forced myself not to. I let it go and got back into the car, back in with Don. I didn’t say anything to him about what the kid said, but something told me this kid’s threats weren’t as empty as I may have originally thought.

Being home during the day in the middle of the week was something I wasn’t used to. Typically, I’d be at the call center Monday through Friday, eight hours a day, and five on Saturdays. However, now that hours were being cut, I’d be lucky to get thirty-two, just enough to keep me on full-time status—a requirement if I was going to continue having medical insurance through the company. And if things didn’t pick up soon, I’d have to start hunting for a second gig to make ends meet. The only bright spot in all this was that I got to spend the day at home with Marissa.