Hide Your Crazy (KPD Motorcycle Patrol 1)

Where the fuck had he come from?

“Yeah,” I confirmed.

“Good,” he said, then cupped his hands over his mouth. “Justice, get your ass over here!”

“Captain Morgan,” a feminine, quiet hypnotic voice said from beside us. “Is that really necessary? Screaming the word ass across the parking lot? That’s not really good publicity seeing as you’re all representing the Kilgore Police Department.”

Captain Morgan snorted. “Yeah, sure.”

Ruby Rose, the department’s therapist that I wasn’t aware would be here tonight, just shook her head and in turn, stared us all down.

“Gentlemen,” she said sweetly.

Ruby Rose, despite her hooker name, really was a sweet woman.

She had long, black curly hair, a cute upturned nose that made her look adorable, and boobs for days.

She also had a major crush on the captain, as did the captain on her.

Though, neither one of them were willing to admit that.

Instead, they just offered each other snide comments here and there as they saw each other at work and outside of work, and it was a version of verbal foreplay that I knew one day would require them to act on their attraction or they’d internally combust.

Justice arrived with a scowl on his face.

“My mother is still in there,” he grumbled.

Justice was dressed in head to toe black, the only pop of color a red bandana holding his hair back.

“Your mother is going to love seeing you,” Ruby informed Justice.

“I know, that’s the problem,” he grumbled. “If she knows that I came here willingly, she’ll ask me to come again, and I don’t want to paint.”

“Well, you’re going to want to paint tonight,” Captain Morgan interjected. “Quit being a little bitch and let’s go.”

Captain Morgan, six-pack in hand, threw open the door and walked inside like he owned the place.

Lucky for Justice, they sat us in a different part of the building than where his mother was painting.

Unluckily, that part of the building was also housing a goddamn bachelorette party.

“You hired strippers!”

Both Pace and I, who were the only ones still in uniform since our shifts had ended and we’d grabbed a quick bite to eat before we were supposed to be at the painting place, looked at each other.

A woman with the penis headband stood up with a short squeal.

Captain Morgan ignored her, us, and everything else, then walked to the table. He took the seat that was farthest in the corner of the room, and then promptly twisted off the top of one of his beers.

“Are those even supposed to be twist-off?” Ruby asked as she walked toward Captain Morgan.

“They should just fuck already,” Jonah muttered under his breath.

“I can’t believe you did this for me, Tatiana!” the penis headband woman squealed.

“I didn’t.” Tatiana, or who I assumed was Tatiana, stood up with a frown on her face.

She had a bottle of wine in one hand and a brush in the other.

“Sexy,” Justice muttered.

That Tatiana was. She was in a short red dress, had long hair all the way to her ass, and her heels made her legs look a mile long.

“Well then, who are they?” penis headband asked.

“They are actual police officers,” Ruby said. “Here for a work function. Now please, step aside and let them sit down.”

That’s when I opened my own beer.

I’d stopped off to get two Silver Bullets at the gas station.

And since I had to work tomorrow mid-afternoon, I knew I couldn’t risk getting drunk off my ass.

But two beers—although they were big ones—wouldn’t kill me.

Normally I would’ve at least changed out of my uniform but seeing as Captain Morgan had given us a ‘be on time or else’ message about halfway through the shift, I’d thought it better to be on time rather than changed out of my clothes.

Hopefully I didn’t get paint and shit all over the uniform.

That would just be wonderful.

Though, I had a feeling my dry cleaners could get it out.

They could get out blood, vomit, and other shit that I’d rather not think about. What was a little paint?

“Sit down, sit down.” A frazzled looking woman with a paint-stained apron came in, carrying more paint-stained aprons. “Here, take one of these. Sit down where the station is already set up.”

I took one, put it on, and shook my head.

The ends of the ties wouldn’t even reach behind my back.

“Mine’s defective,” I muttered.

“Just tie it to your gun and your nightstick,” Justice suggested.

I didn’t, but I did tuck it into my utility belt so that it was mostly snug around me.

“Everybody have a station?” the still frazzled woman asked. “Good, my name is Joanie, and I’ll be taking care of everyone today. Do you all know what we’re painting?”

The women started to clap their hands, and I ground my teeth.

None of the men at our large table said a word.

“A lighthouse!” one of the women clapped.

What the fuck?

Why a lighthouse?