Smolder: Trojans MC (32 page)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Bright light was shining on David’s face, waking him from the deepest sleep he’d had in a long time. His left arm was wrapped around Olivia, holding her tight against him. She was asleep on her side, still naked underneath her light, white sheets. The clock said it was nine o’clock in the morning, but it felt earlier to David. He leaned over and kissed Olivia gently on the back of her neck and pulled her closer.

He didn’t want to get out of the bed. If he did, then the spell would be broken. They wouldn’t be two people who had met at a bar and shared a connection. They would be enemies. They were enemies. David could still remember staring into this apartment with binoculars, watching Olivia as she moved about her space. But now he was here, in her apartment, next to her. His body still reeling from what they had done the night before. He wanted to spend the rest of his life in this bed with her. They could sit in the living room and from the windows watch the battle between their two sides, cops and God’s Reapers. They could align themselves with the victor; skip over all the messy stuff.

But no, that would never happen. Neither he nor Olivia would ever sit on the sidelines. They would both be in the advanced guard, the first to go over the wall and enter the battle. That was where the glory was and they both knew it. It was an unspoken thing they both had in common; it was part of the reason he was so drawn to her. Olivia stirred next to him, and he buried his face in her neck one last time, memorizing the taste and smell of her skin.

“Hi,” she said sheepishly, sitting up and running her hand through her messy hair.

“Good morning,” David said, sitting up as well. Her bare back was exposed and David couldn’t help but run his hands up and down it, feeling goosebumps rise from his touch.

“So...last night was fun, but probably not the best idea,” she said, glancing back at him.

“Oh, I don’t know. I thought it was a great idea,” David said, his hand still on her back.

“A good idea on a Friday night usually turns into a disaster on Monday morning,” she said getting up. David’s hand lingered on her skin until she was out of his reach. She strode across the bedroom towards her door where a bathrobe hung. David got one last look at her long legs and flat stomach before she covered herself up.

With a sigh, David too got out of bed and began to dress himself. “It doesn’t have to be like that, you know. We don’t have to be enemies,” David said. He needed a way to make her see reason. She needed to understand that looking the other way while the Reaper’s conducted their business was the best and safest option for her.

“No one can ever know that this happened,” Olivia said. “No one.” David couldn’t help but notice that she hadn’t answered his question. Maybe they could find a way to make it work. Unless of course she saw something and arrested a Reaper, if that happened things would be bad for Olivia, very bad, and there would be no way for David to help her.

“Don’t worry, Olivia,” he said. “I can keep a secret. I won’t tell anyone.” He was fully dressed but barefoot, and she was in nothing but her robe. How easy it would have been for her to let that robe fall to the floor, for David to take his clothes off, and for the two of them to fall back into each other. She might have been right about bad decisions, but it wasn’t Monday yet, they had the whole weekend still.

David couldn’t help himself; his eyes were in charge of his legs. He walked over to Olivia and ran his thumb along the edge of her robe, his touch gliding across her skin. He wanted to rip off her robe and throw her back into bed. His hand continued its way down, traveling over her breast and down her stomach until it caught on the belt to her robe. He looked up at her, and he could see the longing in her eyes. However, her resolve was strong, and she tightened her belt and closed her robe, looking away from him while she did it.

“We don’t have to stop,” David said. “If we don’t tell anyone, what’s the harm?”

“I could lose my job; you could get kicked out of your club. It’s a bad idea all around. It was fun, but that’s all it can ever be. One fun night,” Olivia said, her voice was firm, and David understood that there was no point in haranguing her. Besides, he knew that one way or the other, life would push the two of them together. She was probably right that it didn't make any sense for the two of them to spend any more time together. It would only make doing their jobs harder.

David walked into the living room and slipped into his shoes. It was strange to be in her living room instead of looking at it through binoculars. He had imagined himself sitting on that couch with Olivia next to him; he had remembered the spray of flowers, now replaced with white lilies. He hadn’t told anyone about his Peeping Tom activities, and he had no plans to tell anyone in the future. He imagined Olivia would be pretty furious if she found out. He walked over to the long windows and stared down into the street, already busy with the hustle and bustle of the residents of Marina’s Crest, getting their errands in before the heat of the day really set in.

He turned back around and faced Olivia, noting the sad expression on her face that she was trying to hide. He didn’t know what to say. He wanted to stay; he wanted to be with her. But he had other loyalties. He had made promises and taken oaths; blood oaths that could never be broken. He couldn't throw all that away for a girl; he wouldn’t be one of those guys who walked away from his promises when something pretty caught his eye. He was more than that.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you in the streets, Officer Waters,” David said, giving her a salute. She smiled at that, which was something at least. David left, closing the door behind him quietly. As he walked to the elevator, he kept hoping that Olivia would change her mind and call for him and invite him back inside. But she was made of stronger stuff than that, and without any delays, he got in the elevator and pushed the button for the first floor.

On his way back to his bike, still parked outside of The Gray Lamp, David couldn’t help but go over the events of the previous night in his mind. The taste of her lips, the scent of her skin, the way she had touched herself. The way her hands had traveled over his skin, the way she had driven him wild. Was it possible that this could really be it? That they might never kiss or touch like that again? David had never had a night like that. He had never met a woman like Olivia, and now he was supposed to just walk away.

Things would be different with Olivia now. They had to be. After the night they shared, it was impossible that she would still look at him as just another biker. Now, maybe, when he told her to look the other way, she would trust him and do it. She had to understand that he just wanted to protect her. This could all be so good for her. She could have money and safety; she just had to say yes. Unless her pride wouldn’t let her. Her pride and the promises she had made as a cop. Normally, in David’s world, sex cleared things up. If there was a girl hanging around the club who David was into, once he slept with her, that meant that she was his and it was hands off for everyone else. But Olivia wasn't in the club, and she had kicked him out of her apartment pretty quickly without even giving him a phone number. David sighed. He had gone to The Gray Lamp hoping to get Olivia Waters out of his system, but the opposite had happened. She was inside of him, running through his veins and complicating his life, and it was just making him want her more.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Olivia strode into work Monday morning with a confidence she did not feel. She was falling hard for a biker, for a member of the gang that she was supposed to be investigating. Sleeping with David had been the dumbest, hottest, most passionate thing she had ever done. She needed to go and tell the detectives about it. She was a professional, and she had done something unprofessional. But with every step her confidence faltered. What if telling them ruined her reputation? What if she turned into a joke?

She also knew that if she told the detectives she could never see David again, ever. She could never run her hands through his blond hair, never look into his bright blue eyes, never feel his tongue on her skin as he kissed her neck, and never call out his name over and over again. She had told him in no uncertain terms, never again. But she
wanted
to make that same mistake again—as many times as she could. She wanted to go The Gray Lamp and see David there waiting for her. She wanted to skip the drinks and go right home. She wanted to fall back into bed with him. But she couldn’t do that. And she definitely couldn’t do it if she told the brass about it.

So it wasn’t strange when her feet avoided the hallway that led to the detectives’ offices and towards the garage instead. Maybe tomorrow things would be different, maybe by tomorrow her body will forget about David’s, maybe by tomorrow she would stop missing him. Tomorrow then, and if not tomorrow, then the day after. She knew that someday it would fade. In the meantime, she just needed to get David Creely out of her head.

She slipped into the driver’s side of her seat and waited for Lance. Olivia was early; she should be talking to the detectives right now. Instead, she was going over the events from Friday night in her head, remembering the way his hands had slid up her thighs, his tongue in her mouth. Her eyes were closed, as she let the memory sweep over her mind. She reveled in it until Lance finally arrived, climbing into the passenger seat and buckling his seatbelt before asking about coffee.

Lance babbled about his weekend as they drove, with Olivia fading in and out as he spoke about a pool party and some movie he had watched. She was grateful that he was so chatty, she was worried that any awkward silence would result in her blurting out the words: I hooked up with a member of God’s Reapers this weekend. And that would be bad.

They had pulled in for coffee and were sitting for a moment in their squad car letting the iced coffee do its magic when Lance spoke up.

“Huh, that’s weird. Olivia, you see that?”

Olivia turned and craned her neck. She was looking down Fourteenth Street where a pair of bikers seemed to be looking at her. One of them had binoculars and had them pointed at the car. They must have seen that they were spotted because they quickly turned tail and ran.

“Let’s see where they go,” Olivia said, starting the car. She was surprised that Lance gave no reply; he just tightened his seatbelt and gave her a curt nod. Maybe he was actually coming around.

She left the siren and the cherry off and drove down Fourteenth Street in the same direction the bikers had gone. As they drove, the streets became more barren. There were no people out, just brick walls for the rows and rows of warehouses that sat on the north side of town. They drove, not knowing what they were looking for, not knowing what was going on. But every now and again Olivia would catch a glimpse of the bikers or hear their engines, and they continued to slowly and quietly follow them.

And then they were almost ten miles out of town when Olivia figured out what was going on.

“Shit,” she said stopping the car.

“What?” Lance asked.

“They’re tricking us,” she responded, turning the car around and heading back into town. “They’re leading us away from something else.”

“Are you sure?” Lance asked.

“No, but watching two cops through binoculars is a pretty obvious move to get our attention. Plus, we’ve been following them for ten miles now. They could have lost us at anytime, but they’ve stayed just far enough away to keep us on their tail.”

“What do you think is happening instead?” Lance asked.

“No idea. Let’s drive the neighborhood and see if we notice anything.”

They drove back down Fourteenth, but everything was quiet. No shouts or cries or gunfire, just a quiet Monday morning. But something was happening, Olivia could sense it. There was something going on; she just needed to figure out what. On a whim, she turned down Marigold Street. They drove for a few blocks and saw nothing, and then at Eighteenth Street, she saw a strange sight. It took her a moment to recognize the woman; it was Hillary Sweetie, but she wasn’t alone. A man had her pressed up against a building, and he was whispering something furiously into her ear.

Olivia hit the cherry and picked up the handset. “Dispatch, this is Sierra Five, domestic dispute on the street, stopping to investigate, go ahead.”

“Copy, Sierra Five. Do you need backup? Go ahead.”

“Negative, dispatch. No backup needed at this time.”

The couple had split apart and were now glaring at the car. Hillary’s arms were crossed against her chest, and she looked mad.

“Hi, Hillary. Everything alright?” Olivia asked, as she stepped towards the couple. She didn’t recognize the man. He was Caucasian, in his thirties, with dark, wavy hair.

“We’re fine, officer,” the man spit. “You can be on your way.”

“Sir, please step to the side. I need to speak to Ms. Sweetie myself,” Olivia said. But the older man only planted his feet and stared at her.

“It’s fine,” Hillary sniffed. “Ricky was just being a real jerk. But he didn’t mean nothing bad by it.” It was then that David Creely came walking around the building. He came to a full stop when he saw Olivia. It took him only a second to collect himself and stride over to the couple.

“What’s going on here?” he asked.

“Sir, this doesn’t concern you. Please step back and away.” Olivia said, surprised by the gruffness in her voice.
What is David doing here?

“It doesn’t seem like it concerns you either, officer,” David countered, taking a step closer to Olivia. “No one’s called the police, and Hillary says she’s fine. You can’t just go around harassing people on the street.”

“Step aside, sir,” Olivia said, staring straight into David’s eyes. “You, too, please,” she said to Mike. For a moment, no one moved. The only sound was Hillary’s sniffles and the low roar of a faraway motorcycle. David was only a foot or two away from Olivia; he was close enough that she could smell his cologne. Her mind couldn’t help but return to Friday night, to his hands traveling up her thigh, his mouth on her neck. But Olivia Waters was not the type of woman who would throw everything away for a man. She could see Lance next to her, tense and nervous, his eyes jumping from Olivia to David and back again, his hand hovering over his gun.

“It’s fine, David. Don’t get yourself into any trouble on my account,” Rick said. “We’ll wait over here, officer. Please, take your time.” For a moment, David didn’t move. He continued to stare at Olivia, and she at him. He looked angry, but it was more frustration than anger, as if he had something he needed to tell her but couldn’t. And there was still longing there when he looked at her. She could see that he remembered their night together just as well as she had.

Finally, David stepped back and then away, going over to the corner to stand with Rick. He held his hands behind his back, but the two men did not speak to each other. They just stood by a tall brick wall and watched Olivia.

“Everything’s fine, Officer Waters. I swear it. It’s real nice that you always come and check on me. I really appreciate it. But me and Rick were just talking. It wasn’t nothing bad. I swear it.”

Olivia looked at the woman, at the bags under her eyes, the bruises on her arms, her cracked and dry skin, her hair a dirty stringy mess. There was desperation in her voice; she was desperate for Olivia to believe her. But there was something else going on here; Olivia was sure of it, and David was in the middle of it. When the time came, would she be able to do it? Would she be able to put David in handcuffs and take him to jail? Would be she be willing to testify against him?