Kill Shot (Code 11-KPD SWAT 6)

I snorted and turned when my dad made it to our sides, walking into his open arms and locking my hands behind his back.

“You didn’t tell me your man had a child,” he muttered into my hair.

I shrugged. “Does it matter?”

He shook his head. “No. But I would just think it’s something you’d mention when you saw me this afternoon and told me all about him.”

I snorted. “I’m sorry. You caught me at a bad time.”

And he had.

He’d caught me just as Joslin Downs had accidentally spilled her glass of tea all over my keyboard and charting I was doing.

“I was nice enough to get you some new scrubs. Wasn’t I?” He teased, letting me go to offer his hand to the man that was now standing at my back.

“Brock Jane,” my father said.

Bennett took his offered hand, and shook it.

“Bennett Alvarez, sir. It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Jane,” Bennett said.

My dad’s smile was genuine as he said, “Call me Brock.”

Bennett nodded. “Brock. This is my daughter, Reagan Rose Alvarez.”

My dad looked down at Reagan and offered his hand to her, too.

“Ms. Alvarez,” he said formally.

Reagan smiled. “Dr. Jane.”

My dad’s eyebrows rose. “Call me Brock.”

Reagan nodded solemnly. “Yes, sir.”

Manners! Holy moly! If this girl could charm the pants off of my dad, she would forever hold his heart.

It’s also why I could get anything I wanted from my father, if I had a mind to ask for it.

“Are y’all going to eat anytime soon? I’m starving!” My sister whined from the door way.

I looked up to find Emily, my baby sister, standing there with a frown on her face.

Emily was a seventeen year old girl that I loved with all of my heart. But she was a pain in the ass, and thought she could get everything handed to her if she whined loud enough.

Something my parents never allowed me to do, but since Emily was the baby, she got to act like that without consequences.

“My sister, Emily,” I muttered to the two people at my side.

Bennett cataloged all of her in two point five seconds.

“Doesn’t she look…charming,” Bennett finally settled with.

I laughed.

Emily was into the whole ‘emo’ thing.

She liked to wear dark clothes. Her hair was black. And I was fairly sure she made herself look pale on purpose.

I was, however, fond of the fishnet stockings.

I still couldn’t believe that my parents allowed her to dress that way.

But they did.

“Daddy, you told me I wasn’t allowed to paint my fingernails black because they didn’t make that color. You lied,” Reagan said accusingly, looking up at Bennett with an accusatory look.

Bennett shrugged. “Must be something new.”

I held in the laugh that threatened to burst free from my lips, and took Reagan’s hand. “Come on, let’s go inside.”

She followed dutifully, not a hint of sleep clung to her, surprising me.

“This is a big house,” Reagan said as we passed over the threshold.

“It’s a monstrosity,” Emily muttered. “I hate it.”

I rolled my eyes.

Emily hated everything.

“It’s not a monstrosity,” my mother chastised Emily gently. “It’s got character, and I love it.”

“I don’t know why you had to get something so big. I won’t be here much longer, and then you’ll have an empty nest with no little birdies to fill it,” Emily said snottily.

Apparently, Emily was in one of her snits.

The kind where she thought everyone was out to get her and make her life a living hell.

“I got this place because it was in a good neighborhood, and there was a pool and lots of rooms for little grandchildren to play,” my mother said pointedly, looking in my direction.

Which in turn was also in Bennett’s direction.

Bennett’s hand squeezed my waist gently at that comment, and I about died of embarrassment.

“Mom,” I said, shaking my head. “I just met the man. How about we wait a few weeks before we name our future kids?”

My dad laughed. “Honey, hate to break it to you, but your mom’s been planning for grandchildren since that little boy told us he was marrying you in the eighth grade.”

I scrunched up my nose. “Dad that was Davey Johnston. And he threw dirt in my eyes and called me a wiener.”

My mother grabbed Reagan’s hand just as she said, “I had a boy call me fugly.”

We all blinked.

“Who called you that?” Bennett barked.

“A boy on the playground. I kicked him in the shin, and took his place on the merry-go-round, though, so it was all alright,” she said, following my mother into the kitchen.

We all followed to the one place in the house where we always seemed to gather.

My mom taught me all that she knew when it came to cooking.

All the recipes were hers, and I had her to thank for all of my kitchen utensils.

You always have to have the right stuff, Lennie baby. Without the right stuff, you can’t make perfection.

I smiled at my mother’s words, and went to the fridge.

“Beer, wine or Kool-Aid?” I asked Bennett.

“Kool-Aid, please. I’m on call tonight,” he answered immediately.

“I want Kool-Aid, too,” Reagan chirped from her seat beside her father.

I smiled, and pulled down one of the cups my mother had for my brother’s children.

“Olaf or Anna?” I asked her, holding up the cups.

She pointed at Anna, and I shook my head.

I shouldn’t have even asked.

I filled three glasses, and took them all to the table while my mom pulled her world famous lasagna out of the oven and placed it in the middle of the table.

I didn’t really know if it was ‘world famous,’ but I kind of felt like it should be.

It really was the bomb, and my mother never failed to make it delicious in all the times I’d had it over the years. In fact, it kept getting better and better.

“What am I, chopped liver?” Emily asked, annoyed when she didn’t see a drink for herself.

“Emily,” I said in annoyance. “I have two hands. You have two hands. Really, it would’ve made more sense had you helped me carry one of those, instead of sitting down expecting someone to get your glass for you.”