Primal Force (12 page)

She sighed, leaned her weight against his back, and dozed, relieved of duty for the moment.

 

CHAPTER TEN

“Everything seems to be in order. Your work record is clean. Your bills are paid. Anything else you want to tell me?” Case Howard, Jori's parole officer, regarded her with a benign gaze across two Grand Slam plates at Denny's. His was empty, hers barely touched.

“No. Work's going fine. Argyle's fine. Everything's fine.”

Case's dark eyes narrowed. “You got someone in your life yet?”

“No.”

“Your eyes say you're not being honest.”

Jori swallowed carefully. This man was all that stood between her and a bad report to the parole board. “I saw a guy. A couple of weeks back.”

“What happened?”

Heat and desire nudged her as memories of Battise took hold. Useless to try to push the memories away. She just hoped Case couldn't see her reaction to the memories in her expression. “We didn't stick.”

Case rubbed his shaved head, glistening like a shelled pecan under the lights. “You need to go slow. Don't get caught up in a relationship you aren't ready for.”

“That's not going to be a problem. Like I said. We didn't stick.”

“No other casual screwing around?” He asked the question softly, but the former college linebacker backed it up with a shrewd look she didn't want to underestimate.

Jori held his gaze. “No. Just the one time.”

He nodded and seemed to relax. “Wish all my clients were as easy as you.”

Jori didn't know whether to be pleased or appalled. “Can I go now? I'm going to be late for work.”

Case leaned back in his chair, which squeaked in protest of the shifting of 302 pounds. “You've got to learn to relax, Garrison. I'm on your side.”

“It's the questions. They're embarrassing.”

“Uh-huh. There's a purpose to them. I'm not just some freak getting off on your private exploits. You're doing good.” He shrugged. “Go on. I got the check.”

Jori stood up.

“One thing. You still not going to your brother's wedding?”

The question caught her like a kick to the chest. “No. I've told them.”

Case held her in his blank stare. “You can't hide forever. You have to face them eventually. After that, we'll really know how you're doing. I'll be in touch.”

Jori didn't breathe deep until she was back behind the wheel of her SUV. She started the ignition and sped away from Denny's as if a horde of zombies were on her tail.

She hated these random check-ins with Case, even if he was a hundred times better than the stories about parole officers she'd heard from the other women in prison. Case was a decent man. But answering questions about everything from how much she weighed to the results of her mandatory pee test left her feeling invaded and way off balance.

Maybe even that would have been okay, if he hadn't brought up Battise.

It wasn't as if Battise was the first guy she'd made it with. But it felt like that, now that he had been gone long enough for her to fully appreciate the
nevermore
part of their hookup.

When the flush of their encounter had worn off, she'd been left a little edgier and a lot hungrier than before. Like one lick of an ice cream cone, one day of sex with Battise wasn't nearly enough.

Jori licked her lips, tingling with the remembered pleasure of his hot mouth. Never made it with a bearded guy before. She'd been left with beard burns on her cheeks and breasts and inner thighs for days after. Not that she was complaining.

She'd been pathetically eager, and he'd made the most of it, finding and exploring every moist quivering inch of her until she was limp from multiple orgasms and he was limp with spent pleasure. She'd probably have been better off not knowing what it was like to lie under him as he slid hot and thick and urgently into her.

Maybe she should have tied him to her bed while she had the chance.

Jori smiled. At least she could still make jokes about it.

Her cell phone rang.

Jori glanced at the unfamiliar number. Usually she didn't try to answer while she was driving. No one had her number but her family, her patrol officer, and WWP.

Maybe it was Battise!

Or not.

Curiosity won out.

“Hello. Is this Jori Garrison?”

The hair on Jori's nape stiffened. “Who is this?”

“It's Erin Foster. I'm Mrs. Luke Tice now, if you hadn't heard.”

Jori could feel a coldness spreading outward from her chest. This day just kept getting better. “What do you want, Erin?”

“I know it's a surprise, hearing from me after all this time. But I'm calling about Kieran and Kaitlyn's wedding. You've heard that I'm Kaitlyn's maid of honor?”

Jori searched for an appropriately neutral reply. “So?”

“This is so awkward.” Erin sounded sincerely uncomfortable. “I need a favor from you. As a sorority sister and a friend.”

Jori rubbed at the knot of tension that drew her eyebrows together.
Frenemies
would once have best described her relationship with Erin Foster. “We aren't friends, Erin. I haven't heard from you since the day Brody died.”

“Yes. That's what makes this awkward. As the maid of honor, I have certain duties to perform. One of them is throwing a bridal shower for Kaitlyn. Which I am, this coming Sunday. So, well, your mother asked if I would personally invite you. Although she did say you don't have plans to attend the wedding itself.” She paused for confirmation, but Jori wasn't about to give her anything until she knew the real reason for this call.

“Okay, you've invited me.”

There was a short pause. “That's not the favor. I need you to decline.”

Jori closed her eyes for a second, safe at a stoplight. “I don't understand.”

“I'm sure you've heard that Luke is running for state senator. He's leading in the polls, of course. You must know that means we can't afford any missteps right through here. The media is so unforgiving.”

Jori pressed very carefully on the gas pedal as the light went green. “Having an ex-con showing up at your doorstep for a social occasion would complicate your life.”

“I wouldn't put it like that, but yes.”

A grim smile spread across Jori's face. “You could just resign as Kaitlyn's maid of honor.”

“Now, how would that look? Backing out on my little sorority sister's wedding after I offered to save the event at the last minute? No, I always carry out my obligations. Even if it costs me personally. But it's not just me this time. There's Luke.”

“Forget it, Erin. I'm still not attending any events connected to my brother's wedding.”

“Oh.” The relief in Erin's voice was palpable. “So then, could you tell your mother that I did call to invite you and that you turned me down?”

“As opposed to me telling her you don't want me there?”

“I think I have the right to decide who I want in my home.” Erin seemed to catch herself on that harsh tone of voice. When she continued it was all southern charm. “Your mother's a lovely woman who's been through a lot. She'd be devastated if your presence was to take the focus from the couple on their special day. That's why I thought you might be willing to help me spare her feelings with a small white lie.”

“Good-bye, Erin.”

Jori lobbed her phone across the seat. It took a lot of nerve, even for someone like Erin, to call to uninvite her to her brother's wedding. As if she wanted to be anywhere near Erin and Luke, with the history they shared.

It just pissed her off to think that Erin thought she had the right to dictate Jori's behavior because … because.

She didn't realize tears were slipping down her face until one dripped off her chin onto her chest. She swiped her chin with the back of her hand. This wasn't the first time she'd wished she never heard of Erin Foster, Brody Rogers, or Luke Tice. And she'd already come to the conclusion on her own that her presence at her brother's wedding would be disruptive.

But damn! She didn't want to be told what to do. By anyone. Ever again.

 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“What you got there, Trooper? Some kid lose their pet?”

Law looked up from his desktop at State Troop L headquarters in Springdale, Arkansas. Another trooper stood over him, a smirk on his broad face. Law had noted the man's arrival but hoped to avoid him.

He swiveled his chair toward the man. “Trooper Pecker. What can I do for you?”

Trooper Ron Becker grimaced at the misuse of his name, something he'd endured since elementary school. “Looks like they put you on poodle patrol, Battise.” He pointed at Sam. “You paint her toenails pink all by your lonesome?”

Law rocked back in his chair, his expression neutral. Since returning to work as a state trooper two weeks earlier, he'd heard just about every possible joke about his service dog's girlie looks.

He gave Becker the quick once-over. Fifteen years older than Law, Becker had a broad face with features bunched together in the middle, making him look permanently constipated. He had been on the job out of Troop L's Springdale office when Law joined the force. Three years later, when Law joined the State Police Criminal Control Unit as a K-9 handler, they'd quickly discovered they didn't like each other. Becker was a bully who didn't believe in breaking a sweat over anything less than the hot pursuit of a suspect.

“You still assigned to the Little Rock office, Becker?”

“Yeah.” Becker lifted his Smokey Bear trooper hat from his head, revealing closely shaved blond hair with a bright pink scalp shining through. “Got a call about a suspected meth cooker we've been tracking for a month. He got himself arrested at a cousin's place over by Bob Kidd Lake. Came to transport him back to Little Rock.”

“Running errands? Thought a transfer to main headquarters would have upped your profile. Governor's motorcade, at least.”

Becker sneered, his gaze narrowing in calculation. “Must be kinda hard for you, coming home from the war a hero and all. Criminal patrol trooper reduced to doing criminal background checks for potential cashiers at Walmart. They ever let you out from behind that desk to do something exciting like noise checks or alarm installations?”

Law didn't bother to answer. Becker wasn't the first to bust his balls over his desk assignment. It just dug a little deeper coming from The Pecker.

Becker glanced again at Sam, dozing in the alcove beneath Law's desk. “What the hell kind of dog
is
that?”

“A doodle. She's on the job.”

“You're shitting me? I mean, honest to God, the least they could do is give you a decent dog. Looks like that one couldn't protect you from a rash.”

Law reached for his wallet and pulled out a twenty. He called Sam to his side and tucked the money in a pocket of Sam's service dog vest, wrapped saddle-like around her middle. He looked up at Becker. “You can have that twenty if you can get it from Sam.”

“You're joking, right?”

Law shrugged. “You asked what she does. Let's find out.”

Becker hitched up his pants and snorted. “You know I work a bit with dogs?” He gave Sam a bright smile, his voice rising and excited, the way K-9 officers speak to their canines. “How you doing there, girlie? Here, sweetheart. Show Papa what you got there in your fancy little vest pocket.”

He reached toward the vest but Sam blocked him with her big head. When he shortened his reach, as if to pet her, Sam again blocked him with another sharp jerk of her head.

Becker spied three doggy treats lined up on Law's desk and grabbed a couple. “Come on now, you little bitch. Come get a treat from your new buddy.” He opened his palm flat, revealing the nuggets.

Sam's gaze went from Becker to Law. Law made a slight negative move with his head.

With her head turned away, Becker made a grab for the vest. Sam quickly back-stepped, dropped her head, and growled low in her throat. The sound that emerged was deeper and more menacing than expected from so harmless-looking a dog.

“Whoa.” Becker back-stepped, both hands raised in defense.

“Got to admire your K-9 technique, Pecker.”

This drew chuckles from the other office personnel who'd come over to watch.

Becker cursed then seemed to realize that playing along with the joke on him was the best way to go. He tossed the nuggets at Sam. “I guess she's good for something.”

Sam sat by Law's chair, ignoring the treats at her feet, content to accept her Alpha's stroking as praise for a job well done. Her tongue lolled from the side of her mouth in a doggy grin, but her gaze remained focused on Becker. She didn't like him, or his smell. He didn't like her Alpha. She would remember that.

Becker's gaze dropped to Law's pant legs. “I heard you lost a leg. You get a lot of pity sex with that thing?”

Law grinned. “Women don't complain about what's missing once I drop my drawers. Want a demonstration?”

Becker's gaze shifted again to Sam, evidently noting for the first time that her vest said
SERVICE
, not
POLICE K-9
. “You really need a damn dog to get around?”

It occurred to Law that within five minutes Becker had questioned his access to the state police database, his mobility, and his dog's purpose. This was an interrogation.

“See you around.” Law swiveled his chair back into position.

Becker stood shifting his weight from foot to foot as if his boots were a size too small. “You plan on riding a desk into retirement?”

Law looked up, his expression impenetrable. “You got a better suggestion?”

“Could be.” Again, that probing look. Definitely fishing. “There're sweet positions for a former law enforcement officer who'd rather make money than arrests.”