Hard Hart, page 19
Another tear. This time Krista let it fall. “Wow, thanks, Mum. I love you too.”
“I wish I could hug you and congratulate you properly.” The emotion was thick in her voice. Elaine Matthews was a crier. Movies, commercials, documentaries, books, a touching moment, you name it, the woman leaked from her eyes.
And apparently now that she was pregnant, Krista, too, had become an emotional geyser. She blotted her eyes with her sleeve. “Me too, Mum. But I’ll see you guys soon, okay?”
“Okay.”
They said their goodbyes, followed by more I love yous and more tears. When Krista finally hung up the phone, she felt lighter than she had in months. A heavy weight slid off her shoulders and dissolved into nothing but mushy feelings of love.
Her mother hadn’t called her a screwup or a disappointment. She’d simply asked Krista questions and offered congratulations, support and love. All the things a mother is supposed to do.
Had it all been in Krista’s head all this time, for all these years? Did she even know her parents?
Despite her light heart and weightless shoulders, her head began to swim with new thoughts. All these years, she thought her parents looked at her as nothing more than a screwup, a black sheep, a wild child, and maybe they didn’t look at her like that at all. She’d simply compared herself with her perfect brother and all his achievements and just assumed her parents were doing the same.
Well, we all know what assuming does …
For the first time in nearly four months, she finally felt proud of her pregnancy. There was no more embarrassment or shame that she’d gotten knocked up on a one-night stand or as a rookie. Sure, the timing wasn’t great, but she wanted this baby and would take the rest as it came.
Marlise’s car pulled in beside Wendy, and with a quick wipe of her sleeve to her eyes, Krista hopped out to greet them. She’d have to thank Brock. Though she wasn’t looking forward to telling him he’d been right.
“Hey, you!” Wendy grinned, having pulled a black toque over her silky blonde hair, the cool winter wind off the water whipping her day-glow green scarf behind her like a jet stream.
Krista shivered and rubbed her hands together. “Hey!”
“How’s baby?”
Krista smiled, wrapping her arms around her midriff. “Letting me keep my breakfast down finally.”
Wendy smiled. “That’s always a plus. They say it’s the most important meal of the day.”
Marlise joined them, having pulled a big, puffy coat out of the back of her car and tossed it on. Even though it was only a few hundred yards to the door of the café, that winter wind off the water was enough to cause a wicked wind burn.
They each ordered a warm drink and a pastry before finding a table far off in the corner next to a window, where the view of more sea birds gliding in the sky like zero-gravity surfers was unencumbered.
They talked about this, that and the other thing. How their Christmases went. Both Wendy and Marlise had to work, and their shifts had not been without a shit-ton of holiday drama. They were still both up to their necks in paperwork. Eventually all three of them grew quiet, their minds drifting along with their gazes out to the blustery day and what Krista could only imagine were equally blustery thoughts.
But she needed to get it out. Besides catching up with two good friends, this meet-up had a purpose, and that purpose was to bring down Senior Constable Myles “Dirtbag” Slade.
“Can I, uh … can I ask you guys something about when you slept with Myles?” Krista finally asked, causing both women to snap back to reality and turn to face her.
Both their faces grew tight, and Marlise fidgeted with her mug. “What do you want to know?” she asked.
“Do you remember all of it?”
Wendy was the first to shake her head. “I don’t … no. I remember him asking me out for a drink. I don’t know if I had more than one. Next thing I know I’m waking up in his bedroom naked. He then proceeds to show me pictures, disgusting horrible pictures of me, of the two of us, and threatens to take these to the media, to the superintendent and anyone else high up in the force. He said he’d make my life a living hell if I told anyone.”
Marlise’s eyes had filled with tears as she quietly nodded next to her friend. “He did the same thing to me,” she finally croaked.
Motherfucker.
Krista nodded, biting her lip. “But the whole force knows that he’s slept with you guys … so it got out. I don’t understand.”
Marlise blew her black fringe bangs out of her eyes and started fiddling with her mug again, avoiding eye contact. “He was the one who bragged about sleeping with us. And in order to save face, we just played along. Corroborating his story with as few details as possible.” She lifted one shoulder. “It’s not unheard of, cops sleeping with each other. Scratching itches and all, but it’s a power thing with Myles. It’s always been a power thing.”
Wendy’s head bobbed up and down as she continued to look out the window.
“Did either of you take this to Staff Sergeant Wicks?” Krista asked, not understanding why two tough-as-nails female cops were allowing a little shit like Myles Slade to bully them.
Wendy nodded again. “I did. He said it was all he-said, she-said and that without any evidence, there was no proof. That Myles is a respected senior officer with a squeaky-clean record, and from what he heard, I’d willingly accepted his offer to go grab a drink after shift.”
Marlise reached into her purse and pulled out a tissue, blotting at her nose and eyes as she sniffled and nodded, agreeing with Wendy.
“I think Myles might have something on Wicks,” Wendy said slowly, bringing her voice down a couple of octaves.
Krista leaned in over the table, bringing her own voice down. “What do you mean ‘have something?’ ”
Wendy shrugged. “Why else would the Wicks defend him? I threatened to take it to HR, and Wicks got all weird and snippety, saying he’d take care of it. Though nothing happened. He’s Myles’s senior officer; he shouldn’t be afraid of him, and yet he is. He’s defending the guy’s behavior. Why?”
Shit. She’d never thought of that before. Maybe Myles did have something on the staff sergeant. It would make sense. She’d have to get Brock and the Harty Boys on it. Investigating a fellow officer, even a senior ranking one, was one thing, but investigating your staff sergeant, that was the equivalent of jumping into a shark tank with a gaping wound.
Wendy swallowed hard, taking a sip of her probably now cold coffee. “I’ve tried to not let it affect my job, and for the most part it hasn’t. He wasn’t my mentor, and I rarely see him, but when I do, that smirk, that arrogant, self-righteous smirk makes me want to vomit but also throat-punch the shit out of him. He loves that he has something over me, that he thinks he holds my career on his flash drive.”
Marlise, who’d been quiet for the most part, blotted her eyes again before speaking. “I know he raped me. And it wasn’t gentle. I ended up having to go to the doctor because I was having issues afterward. Lots of bleeding and pain. I confronted Myles about it and asked him what he did to me. He said it wasn’t his fault I can’t hold my liquor and couldn’t remember. That at the time I’d been all about the ‘kinky shit,’ as he’d put it.” She looked like she was about to puke but instead took a sip of her tea, her hand rattling as she brought the mug to her lips. “I haven’t been into any kinky shit in my life.” She glanced back out toward the lighthouse and breakwater. “I never did find out what he violated me with.”
Krista’s insides roiled. “Are you okay now?”
Marlise nodded solemnly. “I think so. Tough to date, though.”
Wendy nodded solemnly. “I haven’t been on a date in months. Keep canceling at the last minute.”
Marlise’s jaw trembled. “Me too.”
It wasn’t just the hormones talking anymore. It was the rage, it was the fury, the sadness and the injustice for her fellow officers, her fellow females—her friends—that caused fresh, hot tears to well up in Krista’s eyes.
Marlise’s face turned serious when she noticed Krista blotting at her eyes with a napkin. “Did he do something to you too? God, please tell me the baby isn’t his.”
Wendy looked up from her lap, her eyes pleading Krista to say no.
Krista’s lip trembled. “I didn’t let it get that far. He’s been trying for months to get me into bed, but I’ve refused. He cornered me in the staff room a few weeks ago. Tore open my shirt. Assaulted me.”
“No,” Wendy whispered, shaking her head.
Krista nodded.
“Did you report him?” Wendy asked.
“Yes, but Wicks pretty much dismissed it. Said now that I’m on light duty I don’t have to worry about Slade anymore.”
“Fucking useless prick,” Wendy gritted out.
“I think we need to take matters into our own hands now,” Krista said, fury tasting metallic in her mouth.
“It’s dangerous to try to go after him,” Marlise whispered. “Myles is smart. And I don’t want to lose my job.”
“Plus,” Wendy added, “it’s embarrassing. We’re cops.” She brought her voice down. “We should have known better. Should have been stronger. Smarter.”
Krista’s heart ached for her friends. “You won’t lose your jobs. But he can’t keep getting away with this. He nearly did the same thing to Ingrid at the Christmas party and probably would have gotten away with it if Brock hadn’t stepped in. If we band together, find other women in the department who Myles has or has tried to take advantage of and ask them to join us, we’ll be a more powerful force. Wicks and HR can’t dismiss us if we all come forward.”
Wendy’s jaw tightened, and her high cheekbones burned a bright pink. “We can’t let him get away with it. I’m in.”
Marlise wiped her eyes again with her tissue, but despite the red eyes and blotchy skin, she tossed her shoulders back and held her head high. “Me too.”
Krista grinned and reached for each of her friends’ hands. “We’ll get him. I promise.”
Despite the mood at the café, Krista felt lighter, happier than she had in a long while when she parked her car in Brock’s driveway later that day. She’d finally told her parents about her pregnancy, and they were supportive and accepting. Now she was building a case, a strong case, with witnesses and testimonies, against Myles. He wasn’t going to get away with it. He wasn’t going to hurt anyone else. Not if she had anything to do with it.
Brock’s truck was in the driveway, too, which meant he was home. He’d been home a lot lately. Seemed to almost always be home when she was. Coincidence? Was he working at all anymore? Did it matter?
She wasn’t going to let him gloat too much, but he did deserve to know that he was right. That her parents didn’t view her as a screwup and in fact were proud of her. She was a big enough person to admit when she was wrong; she only hoped he played the “I told you so game” with a wicked gleam in his eye and perhaps a heavy hand rather than get all cocky and smug about it.
As she opened the front door, the sounds of grunts and rhythmic pounding filled her ears, and they seemed to be coming from downstairs. She knew there was a home gym down here but hadn’t actually checked it out yet. There were a few rooms with closed doors, and not wanting to be too snoopy, she hadn’t bothered to open them.
The father of her child would tell her if he had a weapons or torture room, right?
Kicking off her shoes and slipping into her slippers, she hung up her coat, then took off in the direction of the noise.
The dimly lit hallway strained her eyes compared with the bright and spacious upstairs, and before long, she found herself feeling claustrophobic. All the doors were closed. She needed to open one soon. Reaching the door where the pounding and grunts were coming from, she hesitantly turned the knob, only to come face-to-face with one of the sexiest things she’d ever seen: Wearing headphones and no shirt, sporting boxing gloves and a glistening sweat that defined each and every muscle to chiseled perfection, Brock was kicking the shit out of a punching bag.
His back was to her, and there were no mirrors, so she took the opportunity to just watch for a moment. Revel in the way his arms and torso bunched and contracted each time his monstrous fist made contact with the bag. Even his back was magnificent.
She licked her lips and followed the line of his body past his shorts to his strong, powerful calves as he hopped back and forth on each foot like an agile fighter. Then without any warning, his body lurched up and leaned over as his foot made wicked contact with the bag, sending it flying backward. Krista gasped in surprise and shifted where she stood, her lady parts tingling the longer she watched.
Brock circled around the bag and lifted his head, and that’s when he noticed her. His green eyes glowed under the harsh fluorescent lights, and those sexy lips that knew all too well how to make her burn tilted up into a cocky little smirk. “How long you been standing there?”
She strode forward, confidence in her gait. His hands were in the gloves, so he couldn’t remove the earbuds, so she did it for him, even loving the way he smelled after a workout. All man. All Brock.
“Hmm?” he hummed. “You like what you see?”
They were less than a foot apart, and her entire body was on fire. Oh yeah, she liked what she saw. She liked it a lot. She wanted to lick him like a goddamn soft-serve cone dipped in Belgian chocolate.
“I owe you an apology,” she said softly, resting her hands on his shoulders.
“Yeah?”
She nodded, resisting the urge to run her hands up into his hair. “Turns out you were right.”
Interest piqued in those gorgeous green orbs of his. “Not very often that I’m not, but go on.”
She snorted a laugh and swatted him gently on the ear. “About my parents. I called and told my mum today. She was very supportive and said she’s proud of the person I’ve become.” Emotion clawed at the back of Krista’s throat at the memory of her phone conversation with her mother. It had been a really good talk. She hoped to have more just like them. A lot more.
Amusement and happiness filled Brock’s eyes. “See? I told you.”
“You did.”
“So you’ve come here to … ”
“Eat crow.”
His gloved hands fell to her waist, and he pulled her against his hard, sweaty body. “Hmm, crow, eh?” She melted into him. It didn’t matter that he was damp from his workout. They could have a shower together and get clean. His lips hovered just over hers. “I think I’d prefer to take you upstairs in the shower than force you to eat some disgusting bird.”
She hummed softly and flicked her tongue out against his salty lips. “That sounds good. I’d definitely prefer something else in my mouth.”
He growled above her. “Oh, baby, that can be arranged.” And instead of kissing her, with gloves on and all, he scooped her up and carried her upstairs.
Chapter 15
After a sexy shower where Krista let Brock gloat just a little, they shared a much more pleasant dinner than the previous night of leftover stir-fry and then watched television in companionable silence until Krista’s eyelids were droopy.
She was just drawing back the covers on the bed when Brock stalked in, pulled his shirt off and went to work on his jeans. Like a well-trained soldier, he tossed everything into the laundry hamper and put his watch down in the same place as always, followed by his phone and wallet. The man was nothing if not disciplined and a creature of habit. Everything had a place; everything had a purpose.
She’d been taken aback when she first moved in by just how clean he was, how spotless his house seemed. Curt had been a slob, so the military level of tidiness in Brock’s home was alarming. Though he’d quickly confided that it wasn’t all him. He had a housekeeper, Marlena, who came once a week to tidy and do the floors and bathrooms.
It didn’t mean Brock still wasn’t a bit of a neat freak who gave her the stink-eye when she set her water glass down on his oak coffee table without a coaster.
“I’m the boss tonight,” he said gruffly, dragging his side of the duvet down and sliding between the sheets. He hadn’t bothered with boxers, and she could already see his erection springing to virile life.
Her eyebrows flew up. “Is that so? Seems to me you were the boss earlier today. I think it’s my turn. If that’s what we’re doing here, switching?”
He shook his head. “Today was different. You were apologizing.”
“And last night? What were those six spanks?”
“You being insubordinate.”
She pushed herself up to full seated position and glared at him. “Insubordinate?”
He grunted again with a nod. “Rolling them baby blues at me like some cheeky Catholic school girl. Next time I’ll get out the yardstick.”
“What are you going to have me do, then?” she asked, being sure to add just enough sass to her tone to make his nostrils flare.
“You’re going to tell me all about your time with your Polish friend while I go down on you.” Then forgoing all customary acts of foreplay, not even a kiss, he slunk down the bed until he was positioned between her legs. An irritated and impatient scowl crossed his face as he pulled off her underwear, as if it was the most inconvenient and inconsiderate thing in the world for her to be wearing panties to bed.
“Now, what was her name?” He wasted no time in getting down to business and, using the entire surface area of his tongue, swept it up between her folds. She let out a contented sigh and closed her eyes.
“Her name was Maja.”
“And how did you two come to be together?” he asked, managing to speak through his task.
She swallowed. “We, uh … we met in Panama, at a bus station. We decided to get a hostel together to save money.”
