Make Me (KPD Motorcycle Patrol 4)

“That was not fun,” I said.

He reached for my hand and brought it to his lips. “I know.”

I just shook my head.

Justice’s sense of humor was morbid since he was a cop. I’d learned to deal with the morbidness that came with the police-wife territory, but I still didn’t enjoy the blood stories.

I could handle the drunk and disorderlies. I could handle the fights and when he came home with a scraped arm or a cut on his chin. I could also handle the high-speed chases.

What I couldn’t handle was when he’d tell me that they worked traffic control at a railroad crossing where two paramedics high-fived using the stray body-parts they had in their hands.

But I was also thankful that Justice was able to handle his shit in situations like that.

Because we’d have been fucked tonight after that.

“Mommy,” Jane said from the seat directly behind me. “I need ice cream.”

Justice looked at his watch.

“None of the ice cream places are open,” he said.

“What about a quart of it from the gas station?” She batted her eyes at him. “Or you could also get me a Coke and a Snickers bar and a bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos.”

I snickered when Justice looked at me with a laugh caught in his throat.

“I also think that I’m going to make Bryce wait on me hand and foot,” she declared. “He’ll do it.”

Bryce would do it. He adored his sister, and I knew without a doubt that he felt terrible for what he’d done.

He was a soft soul, just like my brother is.

Speaking of my brother…

“Shit,” I said. “I forgot to call Jimmy back.”

When I hit his name on the truck’s Bluetooth, he answered on the first ring.

“Holy shit,” my brother said. “That was a sick ass cut.”

I looked over at Justice to see him shrug. “He wanted to see it.”

I just bet he did.

I rolled my eyes.

“So why did I bother calling you back when you already had the nitty-gritty from Justice?” I asked him.

Justice curled his hand around mine and let me talk to my brother. When we got to the gas station, he got out and went inside, stopping to pick Jane up on his way.

When they went inside, I blew out a shaky breath.

“That bad?” Jimmy asked.

“Worse,” I confirmed. “Her leg was just sitting there, gaping open. God, it was a big gash. And there was blood everywhere. Poor Channing is going to be cleaning forever. There was blood on the walls. Floors. Cabinets where it splashed up onto them from the floor and dripped off of Jane’s leg. God.” I shivered just thinking about it all over again.

“I can’t believe that they did that,” Jimmy said.

I snorted.

I could.

Our kids really were wild.

It didn’t matter if it was the most innocuous looking thing in the world. If my kids could use it as a weapon, they would.

“So this was all done with a spear?” Jimmy asked.

I pinched the bridge of my nose as I tried to get my breathing to even out.

“Yes,” I said. “Or a sharpened sword. Hell, I don’t know. I haven’t really had the time to go check what they actually used. But I heard Loki say while we were getting Jane ready to leave that they were sharpening sticks with other sticks.”

Jimmy laughed then.

“They’re going to pay you back for all the shitty things you did throughout your childhood.” Jimmy’s amused voice made me want to punch him in the throat.

I thought about that for a moment.

I hadn’t been a bad kid, but a teenager? Yeah, I’d been bad.

I’d done anything that I could to stick it to my father.

Then again, I still did that.

“I guess so,” I admitted. “But I don’t remember ever having to deal with you taking a sharpened spear to me.”

Jimmy started to laugh.

“No,” he agreed. “But there was that one time I pushed you off of the chair we were standing on, and you busted your chin open on the fence.”

I snorted.

“There was also that one time I stabbed you in the eye with the scissors.” He paused. “Or the other time that I stabbed you in the face with that paring knife and you had to have stitches in your lip.”

All of that was true.

“Though, I don’t remember you ever doing anything to me.” He paused. “Except that time you rolled me out into the middle of traffic when you’d first met Justice and you left me there.”

I snickered at that.

“You deserved that, and you know it,” I challenged.

Jimmy didn’t dispute that fact.

“All right,” I said as I watched Justice come out of the gas station with a bulging bag of food. “I’m gonna go. I gotta get home and get the kids sorted.”

“Be safe when you come home tomorrow,” he said. “Love you.”

Seconds later, I was left staring at my husband as he effortlessly carried our seventy-two-pound daughter out to the truck.