Charlie Foxtrot (Code 11-KPD SWAT 5)

“Well, that’s a shitty story,” Foster muttered, taking a hefty gulp of his beer before placing it down and picking up his menu, effectively dismissing us.

Miller glared at his brother, or tried to at least. The menu blocked him from everyone’s view but my own.

His face was weathered and tired, and a small tic was playing at the corner of his mouth.

His face was what I would describe as rugged.

He had a dark brown beard that covered the lower half of his face.

It wasn’t unkempt like some, though. It was very well maintained, and the edges precise.

He had a scar along his right temple that extended into his hairline, followed by a small mole behind his ear.

I could barely make out what used to be an ear piercing, as well.

He certainly no longer had it, but it was nice to see that he used to be able to let loose.

“So, what do you want?” My uncle asked, his bushy eyebrows raised in question at me.

I shrugged.

That was the eighty three million dollar question, wasn’t it?Chapter 5What’s she have that I don’t? A magic vagina that compliments the size of your micro penis?

-Blake’s secret thoughts

Blake

I didn’t bother saying thank you for the ride.

In fact, I was pretty sure that David tried his freakin’ hardest to make the drive as horrible as possible.

First, he’d dropped the other two off first, effectively leaving me in the car with him, trapped and unable to go anywhere, for another ten minutes more than I wanted to be.

Then he’d driven erratically, purposefully hitting huge puddles, and accelerating a little too fast.

On top of it all, it’d started raining impossibly harder than it had been the moment I no longer had Foster as a buffer, allowing me to focus solely on the two things I hated.

David and the rain.

“Don’t bother with Spurlock. He’s a womanizing prick,” David said, snottily, once Foster walked inside his door.

I didn’t bother to glance up at him in the rear view mirror. There was no point.

That was rich, coming from him, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of allowing him to think he knew me.

He didn’t know me.

If anything, handing that challenge over would only spur me on, not make me run the other way.

Regardless, I ignored him.

It wouldn’t due to break my year and a half accomplishment of ignoring him.

“I tried calling you this weekend,” David said, clearing his throat. “I want to know if I can have the bassinet. The one my father gave you before he died.”

I blinked, turned to him, and smiled.

The evilest smile I could muster.

Yeah fucking right.

He could have that over my cold, dead body.

His dad was also an officer, and I secretly thought he’d always loved me more than his own son.

I’d admired the beautiful woodwork on the bassinet about a month before David and I had married, and Cary saw me admiring it.

Cary had bought it for me.

Had driven back three hours where we’d been not even a half day before, and had bought it.

He’d then given it to me as a wedding present.

Me. Not David.

“You’re not going to be civil about this, are you?” David asked, pulling onto my street.

I shook my head.

No, I wouldn’t be.

I’d loved Cary, and that was the only thing I had left of him, except my memories.

That was the one and only thing, besides my clothes, that I’d taken with me that day I’d left David.

He, of course, hadn’t noticed it until he needed it, but that wasn’t my fault.

Instead of pulling into the driveway, allowing me to get as close to the house as he could get me, he stopped in the middle of the road.

I got out.

The moment my feet hit the pavement and I turned to reach for my bag and umbrella, while David sped off in a hail of water.

Luckily, I’d had my hand around the strap of my purse, or he would’ve taken off with it.

“You stupid mother fucker!” I yelled, the rain soaking me to the bone.

Lightening rent the sky above me, and my heart started to pound as I sprinted for my front door, and refuge.

I was thankful for the overhang that shielded me from the rain, but I was still soaked to the bone by the time I got my front door open.

“You’re home! You’re home!” My Macaw, Boris, crowed the moment I opened the front door.

I grinned.

Boris always had my back.

A loud boom of thunder shook the house, and I cringed against the couch.

“Boom goes the dynamite,” Boris continued.

Boris wasn’t a fan of loud noises, thunder and explosions from the TV included.

I’d gotten Boris when I’d moved into my new place, and was happy that I’d chosen to get him.

He was better than a freakin’ watch dog.

Walking over to Boris’ cage, I picked up a Cheeto and offered it to him.

“Thank you, Hot Mama,” Boris called out before crunching the Cheeto into a mess of crumbs at his feet.

Boris also liked to call me ‘Hot Mama.’

He’d called me that since the moment he’d heard the song Hot Mama on the radio during our drive home.

Apparently, the trip had been a memorable one, and my title stuck.

Covering up his cage after sending him a kiss through the air, I walked into my room, stripped down to my bra and panties, then went to bed.

My sleep was fraught with David stealing my bassinet, and the hot, angry brown eyes of Foster saving it for me while wearing a kilt and holding a sword.

He was a hero even in my sleep.***I woke up and went for a run.

My mind was in a fog the entire way.

So much so, that I ended up running right past David’s house.

I saw him in the front yard, heading to his shift.

He had his arms wrapped around Berri’s shoulders, holding her to him as he kissed the life out of her.

Something he used to do to me.

I ran harder, closing my mind off to where it was only me and the road.

Pushing my legs so hard that I was all the way down a country road before I even realized I’d gone way further than I’d intended.