Double Tap (Code 11-KPD SWAT 2)

I could hear her talking quietly inside as I stood and made my rounds around the house.

I checked on the horses one more time. Then made a round down to the end of my drive to lock the gate before I walked back up to the house and inside.

She wasn’t on the phone when I got back, and I let her do her thing while I checked all the windows and locks. Pulled the shades. Then, finally, walked back to my bedroom.

What I saw made my knees weak.Chapter 9Pussy. It’s what’s for dinner.

-Nico’s secret thoughts

Georgia

My legs were trembling.

My hands were shaking.

And I was fairly positive that if anything else could shake, which I wasn’t going to admit to it being possible, than it most certainly was.

I’d stripped out of my pants and shirt, then crawled into the shower.

I’d hoped that he’d make it inside in time for him to join me in the shower.

Except he’d taken overly long, and I’d lost hot water, which had forced me to get out before I was ready.

I’d hoped that by me being in the shower, I’d goad him into action.

The sad thing was that, despite all that had happened earlier, I was still just as ready to go now as I was when I’d started to undress in his truck.

I’d lost the courage that I’d had when I first entered the shower, and now I was sitting in one of Nico’s worn Navy shirts and nothing else.

I was on the end of his bed waiting for him.

Was I supposed to crawl into bed?

Was I supposed to wait up for him?

I’d been finished with my phone call for nearly an hour. Surely he’d be here shortly, right?

Except he wasn’t. I waited another ten minutes like that before I decided to crawl under the covers.

I waited another five minutes, laying there smelling his sheets, before my eyes got heavy.

And I fell asleep shortly after.

I didn’t even wake up when he got to the room. Not when he called my name. Not even when he crawled into the bed beside me.

In fact, I didn’t wake up until nearly five hours later, at three in the morning, when I heard the awful moaning beside me.

At first, I thought it was part of my dream.

I’d had the same one for eight years now.

I was lucky in that it stopped before I had to witness the murders of my mother and brothers.

That didn’t stop my heart from racing.

This time, though, Nico was there.

He’d moan each time my father would hit or kick me.

He was tied up next to my brothers, and his eyes were on me with a ravaged pain as he watched my father take yet another beating out on me.

Nico never knew of my plight at home.

My father was nice to leave all the marks on places that weren’t easily visible. It helped to avert the inevitable questions that were sure to be asked if anyone saw.

This time, though, Nico found out.

He’d come in when my father had the gun pointed at my face.

When he saw Nico, he forced him to get into the last remaining kitchen chair. The one he always used to sit in.

Then he proceeded to beat the shit out of me while keeping the gun pointed on Nico.

Nico would moan with each hit that my father served me with.

As if it were happening to him instead of me.

It wasn’t until a few minutes in that I realized that it was a continuous moan. That, and he wasn’t even looking at me. He was looking at his hands.

That’s about when my dream started to dissipate around the edges and I found myself in a foreign bed.

The room was pitch black, not a single light was evident in the entire area.

I couldn’t even see my hands in front of my face.

Nico was making a tortured moan from his side of the bed, and my heart started to pound.

I felt along the bedside for my phone, but then I cursed, remembering placing it on the table in the kitchen.

Getting up from the bed, I felt along the wall until I came to what I assumed was the bathroom.

I was wrong, it was the closet, but it did have a light, so it served its purpose.

Flipping it on, I winced when the light blinded me, but I quickly adjusted and looked towards the bed.

Nico was hunched in on himself on his side, facing away from where I’d been sleeping.

He was naked, save for a pair of black boxers, and the first thing my eyes zeroed in on was the large scar on Nico’s back. It spanned from the top of his left shoulder blade all the way diagonally towards the right kidney.

Walking around the bed I called, “Nico?”

He flinched.

“No. No. No. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please don’t hurt her. Please,” Nico panted.

Hurt who?

“Nico. Nicolas. Wake up!” I said emphatically.

His moaning had gotten worse.

I was standing around three feet from the bed when he finally opened his eyes.

It was eerie though.

They weren’t looking at me. They weren’t really looking at anything.

They looked blank.

“Nico?” I asked.

His eyes turned to me, but Nico wasn’t home.

“Nico?” I asked, taking a step back.

His eyes tracked my movement, but he still didn’t move. Staying completely still.

“Nico, what’s going on?” I asked, worried.

He sat up, eyes staying trained on me as I moved back.

His face was lack of expression.

It was as if he was looking at some criminal. As if it was his cop face.

That was when it hit me. He’d looked like that when he was looking in the rear view mirror when he was driving away earlier. When the shooting had started.

He leaned forward, his hand going to something I couldn’t see at the side of the bed.

Then in one swift motion, he had a huge black gun pointing at me.

No, not at me. At something behind me.

“Down,” he said.

I, of course, dropped.

And the world around me exploded.***“You could’ve fucking told me there was something behind me,” I snapped.

“Georgia, there was a fucking rattlesnake on the dresser behind your head. What exactly did you want me to do? He was ready to strike at the back of your head. The more you moved, the more coiled he got,” he growled.