Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 73311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
I looked at the men who’d been sitting silently with me for the last hour, and swallowed.
“I’ll be there,” I muttered. “I have to take care of something anyway.”
Chapter 7
Sex is not the answer. Yes is the answer.
-T-shirt
Aaron
“We need you on this, Aaron,” Big Papa said. “We don’t trust anyone else. No outsiders are coming in until we get this straightened out.”
It was two days later, and I was in Big Papa’s office. Big Papa, also known as Steel Cross, was now the acting chief of police.
And yes, that really was his name.
“I’m not a police officer, though,” I muttered. “I’m a firefighter. I have my peace officer’s license, but that doesn’t mean that I know the shit necessary to be an actual cop.”
In my previous life, I’d been a SWAT medic…or, at least, I was on the road to becoming one, anyway.
Then the accident had happened, and I’d lost sight of my goal for a while.
When I was healing and waiting to get back on with the fire department, I’d gone ahead and gotten the schooling, as well as the training, done to become a SWAT medic.
I got my peace officer's license. I’d met all the necessary requirements, and then had never followed through.
The moment I heard I wasn’t getting back on the fire department at Kilgore, I changed my entire outlook on what I was going to do.
I realized then, after the denial of my rehire, that there was nothing left for me in Kilgore but bad memories.
Which led me to now.
“Stone asked me, of course, but I told him the same thing I am telling you,” I murmured. “I don’t know anything. I…”
Big Papa glared.
“You’re a fucking Marine.”
I was. I couldn’t argue that.
“You have combat experience. You know your shit. You wouldn’t have passed the peace officer training if you didn’t know your shit. Stop coming up with excuses, grow a pair, and get it done, Newbie.”
I growled.
“Fine,” I grumbled. “But you’ll have to tell the fire chief that you stole me.”
Big Papa found his first smile in days.
“I can surely do that,” he grinned.
I found myself smiling right along with him.
“Is there going to be someone to train me?” I asked. “You’re not going to just throw me out there, are you?”
I had to admit, the thought of being thrown out with absolutely no guidance didn’t appeal to me.
“I have a partner for you, all right.”
Turned out, that partner wasn’t even human.
***
“Whoa,” Davis exclaimed. “I thought dogs weren’t allowed in this apartment complex.”
I looked down at the dog who likely wanted to kill me, and I shook my head.
“I don’t think they are,” I admitted.
“Then why do you have him?” Davis continued.
“Is that…” Imogen whispered.
I nodded my head and answered her question before she’d even finished the thought.
“It is,” I confirmed.
“That’s terribly sad,” she continued to whisper. “How does that even work?”
Not very well.
Which was something I’d experienced over the last three hours that I’d had Tank, Stone’s K-9 officer.
“He looks sad,” Davis said. “Can I touch him?”
“No,” Imogen and I said at the same time.
“Why not?” Davis asked.
“Because I don’t trust him not to bite you,” I told him honestly. “He’s sad and volatile right now. When he’s more comfortable, I’ll let you…just not right now.”
Maybe not ever if Tank had anything to say about it.
He was being a jerk.
It was understandable, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t scary.
There was something about a police dog, one who’s trained to take a two-hundred-pound man down, acting odd and foul-tempered, that made a man rethink some decisions.
Like moving too quickly. Or talking to him. Hell, I’d had a hard time sitting next to him in the fucking car, too.
Which might also be part of my problem.
I didn’t do cars.
Not anymore.
They made me feel choked and closed in, and it wasn’t something I wanted to experience ever again.
Which made it ironic that I was fixing up the Nova.
I wouldn’t ever drive it.
Tank growled, and I stepped between him and Imogen, who had only taken a step toward me.
She froze, one hand suspended in the air to touch my chest, and looked down at the dog before quickly backing away.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
She smiled nervously. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”
Davis walked away, his eyes lighting on Kellen, the brother to Kevin who was likely having a grand old time in jail, and I watched him stop close, talking softly.
“I don’t think I’m doing badly, per se,” I murmured, eyes still on the two kids.
“But I’m definitely a long way away from okay.”
She nodded, her eyes going to the dog.
“When’s the funeral?” she asked.
“This afternoon at three.” I looked at my watch. “Shit.”
It was less than an hour before I needed to meet the rest of the club.
The expected turnout had far exceeded the church where we were going to have it, and luckily we could move it to the stadium so it would fit all of the people who’d be coming, some from thousands of miles away, to pay their respects.