Make Me Page 3

  He blew out a breath and looked at the sky with exasperation written all over his face.

  “Fuck me.” He shook his head. “You’re lucky.”

  I shrugged.

  “How’s your brother?” he asked.

  I had a feeling he knew exactly how my brother was. He talked to Marta more than he talked to me sometimes.

  I had a feeling that there was something there, yet neither one of them really did anything to act on it.

  Needless to say, since they both avoided the topic like the plague, I did, too.

  Also, I wasn’t happy when they expressed their input in my love life, so I wasn’t going to do the same to them.

  “He’s doing good,” I said, ignoring the fact that he didn’t look surprised. “He’s bruised up pretty bad, but otherwise, nothing too critical. They’re keeping him overnight for observation just in case. They’ll be releasing him in the morning if he’s in the clear.”

  Stratton nodded, then jerked his head to the food. “What kind of sandwiches?”

  My lips twitched.

  “Boomer’s,” I answered.

  His favorite.

  Stratton grinned. “Aces.”

  I rolled my eyes at his word.

  “Have you been watching Disney Channel again?” I wondered.

  He shrugged. “They got some good shows.”

  “They have some good shows aimed at kids. When you watch them, it makes you seem like a perv,” I explained.

  He shrugged. “Maybe I am?”

  I snorted loudly.

  “Whatever,” I said as I placed the sandwiches on the desk. “Is there anything you want to drink?”

  “My usual,” he answered as he dug out both of the sandwiches.

  I walked to the Coke machine, the same machine that’d been there since the beginning of time, and fished out two quarters.

  The machine was so old that the drinks inside the machine only cost a quarter a piece.

  The machine dispensed two Pepsis—ice cold because Stratton had figured out how to work on the machine when they’d stopped coming to fill it—and handed one over.

  “Thanks, darlin’,” he said. “Why’d you go to Boomer’s?”

  I pursed my lips.

  “I was in need of some comfort food,” I admitted. “Something that was going to stick to my ribs.”

  “It’ll also stick to your ass if you’re not careful,” he challenged.

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Whatever,” I snorted.

  But he was right.

  I’d turned twenty-five this year, and it was like some sort of invisible switch had been flipped, and all of a sudden, I couldn’t eat like a fifteen-year-old anymore. Things that I used to be able to get away with I couldn’t any longer.

  Like eating an entire large-sized pizza.

  That was the fastest way to send me to the bathroom and give me a raging case of heartburn.

  Thinking of heartburn, I was still feeling the effects of the man earlier pressing me up against the building.

  “Hey, Stratton,” I called out before I took a bite of my sandwich. “Have you ever seen a big blond Adonis with muscles on top of muscles with tattoos on his arms before? He’s a hottie.”

  “Big blond Adonis doesn’t really explain anything to me,” he said. “Got a name?”

  I shook my head.

  Then went about explaining what had happened.

  Then I cursed up a blue streak.

  “His chair!” I cried. “Fuck!”

  I dropped my sandwich before I’d so much as taken a bite and was about to sprint the two blocks back to the intersection where it’d all gone down, but I didn’t so much as get out of the building.

  Why?

  Because the Adonis was walking away, and my brother’s chair was sitting right beside the open door.

  It was very, very clear that he’d heard everything I said.

  Shit. Damn. Hell.

  “No,” Stratton said as he took a bite of his sandwich. “Never seen him before. But he looks like someone I wouldn’t fuck with. I suggest you stay away from him.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  Like that would be a problem.

  Chapter 3

  Some of y’all weren’t grabbed by the arm and spanked in a circle and it shows.

  -Justice’s secret thoughts

  Justice

  “There are times when I think I’m close,” I said to the room at large. “But then shit like today happens, and I realize that I don’t know the motherfucker at all. He’s a loose cannon and I don’t ever know what he’s going to do from any given day.”

  The Chief of Police, Luke Roberts, grunted in affirmation.

  “Which is why we needed you undercover,” he muttered. “Kid’s gonna light the entire street on fire one of these days, and everybody on the street will just watch him do it.”

  The ‘kid’ in question was actually Marcus Gomez. He was a thirty-one-year-old wannabe gangster that had some mental health issues.

  Which was proved today when the motherfucker saw a guy in a wheelchair talking to one of his girls, asking her if she wanted to go inside and cool off because she’d looked ready to pass out. Marcus had heard, ‘do you want to leave’ and he’d taken everything out of context. He’d then proceeded to beat the shit out of the man in front of half a dozen businesses, and not one of them had come out to investigate.

  Me, being the only one that had, had talked enough sense into the moron to get him to stop before he’d killed the guy.

  I’d done that by telling Marcus point-blank that the man was the son of a judge, a judge that had a lot of clout and could easily take him down.

  He’d relented, but just barely.

  “Let me know if we can do anything else,” Luke said as he stood. “It sounds like you’re doing what you can. If that changes, give me a heads up.”

  I nodded once in understanding, then stood up and offered my hand.

  Luke took it, then dropped it.

  “Not really how I wanted your first assignment on the job to go,” he grumbled. “Would’ve rather put your skills to use. Have you ever considered the SWAT team?”

  I shrugged. “Yeah, but I’m not really about that life. I’d rather become a detective like my father.”

  Luke tipped up his chin in understanding.

  “Sad to see those skills you have go to that side of the board, but you’re a smart motherfucker. Not many people I know that scored a 99 on their ASVAB,” he said. “I’ve never seen an MP come out of the Army with as much experience as you have.”

  I’d been lucky. I’d gotten into a cake job early on, and they’d sent me to school and I’d pretty much been living my dream job in the Army. When I’d gotten out, it hadn’t been because I’d wanted to get out, but because they were considering sending me to Kuwait, and I hadn’t wanted to go there.

  That had also been because I’d had a girlfriend at the time that I’d been tossing around the idea of asking her to marry me.

  So I’d decided not to re-enlist. I’d boxed all of my shit up, and I’d moved.

  Which was why I ended up here in Kilgore, Texas.

  And the day that I’d gotten here, I’d surprised her by arriving three days early. I’d found her having coffee with her ex-boyfriend and discussing the merits of getting back together and her breaking up with me.

  She hadn’t realized I was at the next table over until I suggested that if she still had feelings for the other man, that she break up with her current boyfriend.

  Sadly, I’d already purchased a shop with an apartment, and I’d already committed to the Kilgore Police Department via contract. Meaning I was stuck for at least a year.

  “Well,” I shrugged. “I’m happy where I ended up for the most part. I can’t say that undercover work was really my goal when I started, but it’s not bad.”

  I mean, I had a job that I was getting paid for,
and I was also working in a garage that was considered ‘mine’ and was also getting paid for that, too.

  It was a win-win as far as I was concerned.

  Double the pay, don’t have to live in the apartment next to Natalie, and every once in a while, I get to help a man out in a wheelchair and talk some sense into Marcus Gomez.

  “All right,” Luke said. “I want you to escalate things. Push and see what Gomez does.”

  “That push needs to come in the form of an arrest of his ladies, someone reporting his crack house, or destroying his meth operation,” I suggested. “Those three things are his main sources of income.”

  “Do all three,” Luke suggested. “An anonymous tip for the house and the meth operation, and I’ll have KPD run a drive-by from time to time to catch any of his ladies. A sting would be okay.”

  “I can do the sting just fine,” I said. “Nearly all of them have expressed interest.”

  Luke nodded. “We’ll get your car loaded up for visual and audio. Let us know where you want to take them, and we’ll have officers in the next room to perform the arrest.”

  So, that was exactly what I did.

  Within a day, nearly seven of Marcus’ girls were gone, led away by me—not that they knew that. They’d seen me going away in handcuffs just like they were. Only once they were loaded into the squad cars, they released me to do it all over again.

  Also, both Marcus’ crack house and his meth operation were uncovered and exposed, leaving him with four other girls to give him income and a shit load of anger to work out.

  That anger sadly focusing on the one girl that had nothing to do with it.

  One girl with fiery red hair, curves for days, a soft, delicate jaw, pouty red lips, and gray eyes that were so light they were almost on the verge of creepy.

  One girl that didn’t know how to stay out of trouble.

  Chapter 4

  There’s a fine line between ‘I should say that’ and ‘I should talk to a therapist.’

  -Royal’s secret thoughts

  Royal

  My day started out pretty well.

  I’d gone to visit my brother—who was at home and healing nicely. My dad hadn’t said a word to me. Marta had been there and I hadn’t had to call her.

  Oh, and Stratton had given me a bonus off of the massive gate we’d just finished building for a hot-shot Texas oil billionaire.

  All in all, my day was going fucking great.

  Until it wasn’t.

  And the reason why it wasn’t was standing right in front of me, yelling so loud and scaring me so badly that I could barely breathe.

  “You fucking cunt!” he screamed. “I will ruin you. I’ll tie you up by your hands, stretch your feet out to the side, and ruin you!”

  I nearly vomited all over his shoes, but since I knew that’d only piss him off even more, I stayed still and quiet, hoping that someone would come to my rescue.

  I should’ve known that wouldn’t happen.

  Stratton had gone to a doctor’s appointment a little over an hour ago, leaving me in the shop alone.

  Which was likely why this man was standing in front of me doing what he was doing, because he knew I was alone.

  So, let me explain a few things.

  Over the last week, I’d done a lot of asking around. A lot of it had to do with the ass beating my brother had taken—but sadly none of them had been helpful enough to tell me what the thug looked like, or even who the thug was. So I had no clue whatsoever that it was actually Marcus—though I’d assumed it was.

  But you know what they say about assuming stuff. So instead of pursuing it, I kept my nose clean and decided that both the man that had given me the warning and my brother—who also refused to tell me who it was—were right. I didn’t need to know.

  So I’d then focused my efforts on finding out who ‘the man’ was.

  And I’d found out quite a bit.

  For instance, I’d found out that he worked across the street and down one from where my brother worked at the convenience store.

  I’d also found out that his name was JR.

  It didn’t suit him.

  He looked like a man that would have a bold name, like John or William. Not a JR.

  I also became incredibly interested in finding out what the J and the R stood for.

  But since he didn’t go by anything but that to everyone on the street, I was stuck with not knowing.

  “Are you even listening to me, you stupid bitch?” the man, who I assumed was Marcus Gomez, asked.

  Marcus Gomez, according to Stratton, owned this street. He was the one person that Stratton told me to stay away from and avoid at all costs. No matter what.

  And I’d done a pretty swell job of it in the two years that I’d been working for him.

  Then ol’ JR comes on the scene and shit goes to hell fast.

  I have a feeling that it wasn’t a coincidence that he shows up, and Marcus Gomez starts escalating things.

  Marcus feels threatened, and JR likely has a lot to do with that.

  “I-I am-m,” I stuttered.

  I was about to throw up.

  No doubt about it.

  I looked around for a trash can, because I could taste my burger that I’d grabbed at lunch making its way up my throat.

  “Marcus.”

  That deep, husky alpha male voice had me freezing.

  My potential upchuck stalled out as well as Marcus and I both turned to face the doorway to the office.

  “What?” Marcus snapped.

  “One of your girls is getting arrested by the cops,” JR said.

  That was all it took to have Marcus cursing and running out of the door.

  It’s only when I take my first deep breath and return my gaze to the man in my doorway that he breaks the silence.

  “I told you not to ask around about him,” he said. “What did you think was going to happen when you asked every single person you saw about him? Those people tell him shit because they’re scared. They don’t tell you shit because they’re more scared of him than a little slip of a girl.”

  I narrowed my eyes and fisted my hands as I placed them each on a hip.

  “Let me tell you something,” I said to him. “My brother has seen enough shit in his life. So much shit that I’m sure you can’t even begin to understand. So yes, I’ll ask who and what I want if they know anything about my brother’s brutal beating that he received. I’m sorry for fucking caring about him. It may be foreign, but it’s a real thing. You should try it sometime.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed.

  “And what is your real fucking name? JR is stupid. You don’t look like a JR,” I snapped.

  The man leaned his large, muscular shoulder against the door jamb, not caring in the least that he likely was getting dirty.

  Then again, he was already dirty.

  Today he was in jeans that fit him so well that I could see every single nuance and curve underneath of them. I could make out the bulge next to his knee that denoted muscle tone. I could see the curve of his thigh. The hefty weight of his package tucked in under his zipper, and a nice chunk of that running down the left side of his leg. I could also make out a finely curved ass that looked like it could make women weep.

  I could tell he didn’t want to tell me.

  I tipped my eyebrows up in challenge, knowing that he wouldn’t back down from it.

  “Justice,” he said finally. “And if you tell anybody that, I’ll have to kill you.”

  When he walked off after that, I followed him outside and watched him move.

  He went straight to his garage, picked up a socket wrench, and went back to work.

  All the while, I tried not to hyperventilate.

  Chapter 5

  Listen, before I had my coffee, I didn’t know how awesome I was going to be today, either.

  -Coffee Cup

  Justice

  “St
ay away from the girl.”

  I looked up to find my immediate boss, Sergeant Tellings, staring at me like I’d done something stupid.

  And maybe I had.

  I could’ve easily let what I’d seen about to happen, happen and allowed Royal to have her face fucked up by Marcus. But I hadn’t.

  I couldn’t stand the idea of calling the cops and letting them deal with it when I was just across the road, watching everything go down.

  “I’m not doing anything with the girl,” I lied. “I just didn’t want to see her get beaten up like I did her brother.”

  Fuller rolled his eyes. “Marcus wasn’t going to do anything. All it looked like from our end was that you were getting attached to the girl, and you didn’t want Marcus near her.”

  That was true.

  I hadn’t wanted him anywhere near her.

  I hadn’t even wanted to give him her name when Marcus had asked who was asking around about him.

  Yet, I had.

  Because if I hadn’t, it would’ve looked suspicious.

  “All I’m telling you is that you need to stay away from her,” Fuller continued. “We’ve put months into this investigation, and we can’t afford to have Marcus go to ground.”

  That was true. I’d put in a month already, and they’d been working it for two months before I’d even arrived.

  Plus, Marcus Gomez was a problem. A big one.

  Not only did he think he ruled the roost, but he also thought he could get away with murder—which we knew he had—for now.

  That was my goal—to find evidence on who he killed.

  And I would.

  Eventually.

  As long as I didn’t let my dick do the talking.

  Because the first time I’d seen her across the street in her dirty overalls? I’d been fucking lost.

  It was her hair, I was thinking.

  She was short for a girl. Shorter than my sister by far. About five foot three if I had to guess. But she made up for that in curves. Her breasts were big—and when I say big, they’d overflow my hands, big.

  Her eyes were a beautiful gray. Like a foggy morning, translucent gray. Her skin? It was like milk, white and silky. She probably burned to a crisp if she was out in the sun too long.