Charlie Foxtrot (Code 11-KPD SWAT 5)

“PTSD,” I said softly. “That’s what it sounds like.”

She pursed her lips. “Maybe. But it doesn’t hinder my daily living any. I just really, really don’t like driving in rain. Or storms period. That doesn’t mean I cower into a ball when one comes around. I will still drive in it, I just choose not to if I have the option.”

I nodded. “Maybe that’s it.”

She frowned at me, but her scowl lacked the punch it would’ve normally had since the sky chose that moment to really let the sky open up.

Rain poured down.

Big, fat drops.

It was pouring down so hard that I had to slow the truck to allow the windshield wipers to keep up.

“This. I don’t like this,” she said, gesturing to the windshield and the weather beyond.

“Hmmm,” I said, pulling down the same street that I’d been on just twenty four hours ago.

I pulled into her driveway, and pulled up as far as I could before I put it into park.

“Do you…do you want to come in?” She asked.

Her voice sounded so hopeful, and even though my mind was screaming yes, I knew what really needed to be said. “No. I’m sorry. I have somewhere to be.”***Blake

I closed the front door, tears threatening to pour over my lids as I locked the door.

Why was I so undesirable to him? Why, at the mention of coming inside, had he flinched like I’d asked him to shoot himself in the foot?

What was wrong with me that no one wanted to be around me?

None of my friends from high school spoke to me anymore.

If David hadn’t been so controlling, had been nicer, or more fun to be around, I wouldn’t have had to choose him over my friends. I’d have someone to share my fears, hopes, and dreams with. Have a girlfriend or two to hang out with, to complain about how my ex ruined my life.

I, of course, had my parents.

But they weren’t the same.

I just wished for…someone.

Someone that’d be there for me.

Someone that’d give me a hug when I needed it.

Like right fucking now. I needed a hug in the worst way.

Thunder rolled, and my heart pounded.

“Boom goes the dynamite!” Boris yelled.

Knowing I wouldn’t be getting to sleep anytime soon, I went to my back room, and did the only thing that I knew would help me find relief.Chapter 7Never, ever, trust men. They’re all the same. Big ‘ol buttheads.

-Blake’s note to self

Foster

“I cannot believe you’re making me do this, Uncle Darren. This is Missy’s job. Seriously, I’m going to give every single one of your SWAT team food poisoning, and then where would you be?” that voice said.

The voice that gave me an instant hard on.

The voice that’d been teasing me for weeks over the airwaves.

The voice that I wanted screaming my name with me pounding her to oblivion.

“Missy gave you very detailed instructions. All you have to do is right here,” Chief Rhodes said to Blake.

I’m glad that I never did anything with her…or to her, that would’ve brought his wrath down on my back.

It was a good thing to know. Considering it’d been in all my intentions to seduce her…and possibly keep her.

“Alright, I’ve got the biggest pot I could find, boiling with water. Now what?” she asked, running her finger over a piece of paper at her side.

I glanced at Chief Rhodes and nearly laughed when I saw him flipping through what looked like a Guns & Ammo Magazine.

He wasn’t even paying the least bit of attention to her.

Leaning against the door jam, I continued to watch as she brought out a large paper bag that had ‘Fisherman’s Cove’ on the side.

Peeking into the bag, she squeaked and stepped back, letting the bag drop to the floor.

“Oh, my God! They’re all over the floor, Uncle Darren!” Blake squealed.

The Chief didn’t even look up from his magazine.

“Pick them up,” he said distractedly.

The lobsters, all fifteen of them, started crawling around the kitchen floor.

“Uncle Darren, you big bastard,” Blake hissed.

The Chief smiled. “Did you read this article yet?”

“Which one? The one on the fifty caliber AR-15?” Blake gasped, stepping to the side of a crawling crustacean.

“That one. Do you see how far the shot knocks him back?” the Chief laughed.

“About as far as I’m going to knock you if you don’t fucking help me,” she growled, dancing on the tips of her toes and shaking her head.

I scanned her body, taking in everything in a glance.

Her hair was up in messy bun on top of her head, stray hairs falling out every which way.

She was wearing blue jean shorts that just barely covered her ass, and a white tank top that said, ‘I make dirt look sexy.’

Her legs were long and toned.

They were deeply tanned, but you could tell that they were tan from being outside, and not a tanning bed.

She had a suntan line at her ankles from what looked like socks and shoes.

Her toes were painted a lime green, and she was wearing a pinky toe ring.

The whole outfit was outrageous, but it fit Blake’s personality perfectly.

“Need help?” I rumbled from the doorway.

The Chief didn’t look up, but Blake did.

And she looked stunned.

“What are you doing here so early? Dinner’s not ready yet,” she snapped.

I held my hands up.

“I’m here because I’m supposed to drop these off,” I said, waving a stack of folders in her direction.

My eyes roamed the front of her, zeroing in on the way her pink and white bra straps showed from under her tank.

She narrowed her eyes, and effectively dismissed me by turning her back on me.

I guessed, though, that it was because she was hiding the way her nipples pebbled in reaction to my gaze.

Well, I’ll take that as she was happy to see me.

The Chief finally stood and walked over to me, stepping over a lobster as he went. “You have one escaping into the kitchen,” he said on his way out.

I followed him, smiling at the curse she tossed at his back.

“You’re mean,” I laughed.

The Chief looked over at me and winked. “She needs to be challenged sometimes. And she’s stubborn as hell. If I hadn’t given her something to do, she’d just be worrying.”