Make Me (KPD Motorcycle Patrol 4)

There was a shuffle of fabric somewhere in the vicinity of the bathroom, and then Royal appeared like a ghost out of the bathroom.

The brightness of the moonlight made her look almost ethereal as she moved toward the bed.

And it greatly highlighted the tears on her face.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

She shook her phone at me.

“My brother just sent me a couple of texts.” She wiped the tears away with a fierceness that surprised me. “He’s pissed and hurt that I’m not answering his text messages. He’s also experiencing some changes and wants to talk to me. But I’m ignoring him.”

“What kind of changes?” I asked, trying to get her mind off of the desolation I could see in her eyes.

“He’s getting some feeling back in his lower half.” She drew in a deep breath.

That made me curious.

“What happened to your brother?” I wondered. “I know that he’s paralyzed and all. Normally that doesn’t really ‘come back.’”

She pursed her lips and set her phone gingerly down on the table next to her, then brought her hands up and scrubbed her eyes.

“My brother, Marta, and I were in an accident when we were younger,” she said, sounding tired. “Marta and I were perfectly fine. Jimmy, not so much. He was on the side that was impacted, so he received the most damage from the accident. He suffered multiple broken bones. Contusions. A concussion. And trauma to his spinal cord. There was no severance of it or anything but a compression of it that made his lower body lose blood flow to his lower limbs for an hour or so while they freed him of the wreckage. Medically, there’s nothing wrong with his spine. But he hasn’t been able to feel anything below his hips since it happened.”

I winced.

“That’s awful,” I admitted, wondering if he had use of his—you know—or not. Not that I would ask.

But a man could wonder.

I was still wondering almost twelve hours later when I was standing next to Captain Morgan.

Things went back to our old routine after we arrived back at home.

Well, as normal as it could be under the circumstances.

Oh, and we were now well and truly in a relationship.

There was no doubt about it.

Even everybody at work knew, including my superiors.

“Just make sure you know what you’re doing, Rector,” Captain Morgan groaned. “This’ll come back and bite you in the ass if you’re not careful.”

What he said was true.

Or it might’ve been had I given a shit what anybody thought.

In fact, the only people that mattered at this point was Royal and me.

Not her dad. Not her brother—who was still calling and texting despite being ignored—and not even my parents.

Nobody’s opinion mattered but ours—at least that was what I kept telling her.

“I’ll take that into consideration,” I said as I waited in the hallway for Royal to finish her shift.

“You know that The Judge is a dick, right?” Captain Morgan asked.

I turned and surveyed him.

He was the first person in this entire place to tell it like it was.

“I’ve heard a lot of stories,” I said. “From Royal. And what I’ve heard has not endeared him to me.” I paused. “I thought you played poker with him.”

Captain Morgan grimaced, his eyes glancing around for anybody near enough to overhear our conversation.

“I do. Well, I play with my best friend, who happens to play with her father. It’s definitely not my top pick of where to play. Plus, I get a kick out of taking his fucking money every week.” He grimaced. “St. James once convicted a kid I once knew,” he murmured, voice low. “Kid was a fairly good kid. Honestly, he was going places. Then he fucked up and got in a car with his older brother. The older brother wasn’t such a good kid. He had problems, and he drug his little brother into them with him. They both got pulled over by the cops, and the big brother ran, leaving the good kid behind. Baby brother got arrested and The Judge threw the goddamn book at him in hopes that it would bring the big brother out of hiding. It didn’t.”

My brows rose.

“Why does this sound like it’s personal to you?” I asked curiously.

Captain Morgan crossed his arms over his chest and said, “Because it was. It was my brother’s kids. My brother’s a good guy, just clueless. Had no idea what his kids were into. Worked, came home, zoned out. He didn’t really have much to do with the kids, and it showed. At least with the older one. Needless to say, I did my best to help my youngest nephew out, but he will permanently have a record now, thanks to Judge St. James, and St. James could care fucking less. He doesn’t give a shit that he fucked some kid’s life up. That kid was headed to MIT. He has a genius-level IQ, and St. James sleeps like a baby at night.”