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He glares at me, turns, and head for the front door. I growl and stomp after him. Outside, the door slams behind me as he heads for his truck.
“What?!” I yell at Bishop’s back. I know he just walked in on something questionable. I know I had no right to be touching her, or kissing her. But I’m just a fucking guy; I’m not a cop anymore. And Bishop and I both know what happened to me was a fucking crucifixion on the altar of dirty politics. But he still thinks I need to be living the same code he is. And I’m not having it.
“A fired cop! Yep! That’s me, asshole!” I jab a finger at him, paused by his truck. “But I’m pretty fucking sure I got fucked after saving your ass!”
Bishop whirls. “Yeah, you saved me. And I thanked you. And yeah man, it’s some bullshit how things played out for you. But you’ve spent the last two years thinking you’re this fucking cowboy! This ‘maverick ex cop tough guy with the security company’ act is getting fucking old.”
“Fuck you.”
“There are rules, Tanner!” He barks. “And just because you bought yourself a fancy house and a slick SUV, doesn’t mean—”
“Doesn’t mean what,” I snap. “Doesn’t mean I get to stop playing by your goddamn code, Bishop? Because actually, it does.”
“This is police business, Tanner,” my friend snarls. “She is police business. So stay the fuck out of it.”
He turns and yanks the door of his truck open. I smile coldly. “That’s what this is, huh? This about her?”
“What did I just fucking say?”
“You mad I’m the one she kissed?”
He freezes. Slowly, he turns to glare at me over his shoulder. But then he smirks. “I don’t know. Are you mad you’re not the only?”
I blink. Bishop slides into his truck, slams the door, and revs the engine on. I watch in cold silence as he peels out of my driveway and roars off. I glare back at my front door. I can’t tell if I’m furious or fucking turned on. I can’t tell if I want to storm back inside and taste that mouth of hers again. Or if I want to demand answers.
I close my eyes. I take a slow breath and exhale. Slowly, the roaring demons in my head shut the fuck up. I glance at the door again. But I know what needs to happen. I don’t even know if I believe Bishop’s insinuations. Part of me thinks he was just trying to wind me up and piss me off. Well, it worked.
But much as I want to punch my friend in the face, I make myself calm down. Even if he’s telling the truth—that he kissed Cora? Well, so what. I don’t have a claim on her. She’s not my fucking girlfriend, for fuck’s sake. I met her two damn hours ago. I know fuck-all about her. Well, except that she’s trouble, and brings more of it with her.
I also know that now that I’m out of the house, Bishop’s right: I need to stay out.
I head down the stairs and then off to the edge of my yard. When I reach the dunes, I climb up to the top and gaze out over the dark bay of Santa Marina. The lights of the town glitter. Further around the bay, the glitzy glow of the huge mansions glitter even brighter.
But there’s one I focus on. Even with all the big houses over there across the bay, I’d know this one with my eyes closed: Kip Clausterman; the man who tore my life apart.
I plunk my ass down on top of the dunes. I glare at his fucking house, seething. Two years and two months ago, it all went to shit. Before that, I was happy. Well, at least I can pretend I was happier then. I was still a cop. I was still dating Monica, though that being over is a godsend.
Bishop and I were partners back then. That night, we responded to a noise complaint at the Clausterman mansion. Kip’s fuckwad of a son, Nils, was throwing an especially huge party. But we knew it wasn’t going to be just a dumb college kid thing the second we rolled up. This was too aggressive. The wrong type of people were there. Not just drunk college kids, but guys who had cartel written all over them.
When I spotted Santa Marina’s resident drug dealer make a quick exit when we arrived, I should have known shit was going to go down. But we kept going. We heard what we thought was a fight, and then a gunshot. Bishop and I charged into Kip’s study, guns out.
Obviously, we weren’t there to shoot anyone. But the bullets started flying instantly. Bishop got hit hard and went down. After that, I just fired back on instinct. Except, the perp wasn’t just some cartel guy running amok at a rich kid party like I assumed. It was Nils, Kip’s son.
He lived; he was fine. My career as a cop died that night though. I know Nils was the shooter. I know the huge amount of drugs they later found at the party didn’t belong to “some bad guys who crashed a party they weren’t invited to”. But Kip Clausterman means too much to this town. He means too much to the annual police fundraising gala, too. He also had too many friends in positions way above me.
So that was it; game over. I lost the badge. I got sued and lost my house, and even lost my girlfriend. Though, I can definitely say good riddance on her.
I spent about a year drowning in bars. But then I got my shit together. With my years with the force, and before that, the Marines,I built the security business I have now. I’m doing great, and I know that. Business is kicking ass, and I’ve got this great house on the beach.
Yet it still doesn’t feel like I’m where I’m supposed to be.
I push my feet into the sand at the top of the dune. I’m still glaring at Kip Clausterman’s house. But I’m not thinking of that asshole or his fuck-head of a son. I’m thinking of Cora.
I’m also thinking of Bishop, though trust me, not in the same way. With Cora, I’m thinking about how insanely drawn to her I am. How magnetic the attraction I have for her is. I’ve been alone since Monica took off; purposefully so. I’m not unaware of my looks or my physique. I get it. But I’ve never been a one-night kind of guy.
But that’s also not how I’m looking at Cora. I look at her, and I feel the earth move under my feet. I’m near her, and I want her always, in every way.
But then, there’s Bishop. He’s also not a hook-up kinda guy. He’s also not one for lingering eyes, ever. But I saw how he looked at her. I saw how furious he was with me when he caught me kissing her. It wasn’t just about her being a witness. Hell no. It was about a lot more than that.
I frown, thinking about his parting shot when he left just now. Nah, no way, I think to myself. He didn’t kiss her. He’s just trying to fuck with me.
I sigh, pull my hoodie up, and lay back on the dunes. He is right though. I shouldn’t be in that house with her. Because I can’t trust myself with her. I’m not sure I can trust her with me, either.
The idea of sleeping in my car doesn’t exactly appeal to me. But for now, I’ve got the sand under me and the surf in my ears. It might at least partially work for taking my mind off Cora.
I grunt. Man, Happy fucking Valentine’s Day, huh?
