Trouble (B-Squad 2.75)

He turned onto Denton Court and headed straight for the small one-story house at the end of the first block. Halfway there, he pressed the garage door opener attached to his visor.

"That's all you have to say?" she asked, looking around at the neighborhood, no doubt trying to figure out where they were going. "Am I supposed to sleep on a park bench so as to make a better target for the Rhinestone Cowboys?”

"Nope." He pulled into the garage, pulled up until the tennis ball hanging from the ceiling told him his truck had cleared the door, cut the engine, and watched the garage door roll shut behind them. "You're staying with me."

Her eyes went wide. "No. Fucking. Way."

"It's the easiest way for me to keep an eye on you 24/7." And if there was more to it than that, he wasn't about to admit to it out loud--or in his head for that matter.

Not wasting time waiting for her response, he was out of the truck and halfway through the house with her bag before she caught up to him in the hallway outside the only bedroom.

"You can't be serious," she said, following him into the bedroom.

He tossed her bag in the middle of his bed. "Call your brother and see what he thinks."

Hands on her hips, fire sparking in her eyes, she stared him down. "Why, because I'm a girl and couldn't possibly understand things?"

Girl? She definitely was not a girl. Leah Camacho was all woman and he had a raindrop's chance in hell of ever forgetting that. He hadn't forgotten it in the years since their summer together no matter how fucking hard he'd tried. But this wasn't about the fact that he'd never been able to shake her ghost. Her safety was at stake and no matter what had happened between them before, he'd do whatever it took to keep her alive and in one piece--even if that meant breaking himself apart in the process.

"No, because I'm a professional," he snarled, bearing down on her to send his message home. "This is what I do. I keep people safe. Right now I'm going to keep you safe. If we had to sell a shitload of pot, then I'd trust you to know the right way to go about it. Until then—which will be never—you need to trust me and do what I tell you."

When she didn't say anything, he reached around behind her, slid his hand inside the back pocket of her jeans, and pulled out her phone.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her cheeks flushed and her voice a little more breathy than it had been before.

Ignoring the way his body immediately responded to her, he took a step back and scrolled through her contacts list. "Calling your brother." He hit the call button. "Maybe he can talk some sense into you."

She swiped the phone away as it was ringing. "I don't need to—”

The muted sound of Isaac Camacho saying, "Hey, sis," sounded from the phone.

She flipped off Drew and put the phone to her ear. "Isaac, I think I might need bail money."

"What do you mean you might need bail money?" Isaac's voice came in loud and clear over the phone for that one.

Leah looked directly at Drew. "Because I just might kill Drew Jackson."

He laughed. He couldn't help it. She was pissed and it looked fucking good on her. Giving her some space, he walked out into the hall and to

the living room and gave it a once over. He didn't need to pick up anything. He'd always been neat. He liked things cleaned up and orderly, which is why his attraction to Leah had come out of left field. Orderly was not her way. She was risk and disarray and taking the plunge without knowing what was coming next.

That summer, after gaining real world experience as a cop in Fort Worth, he was ready to bite the bullet and follow his dad's dream for him and go to law school and become a corporate attorney. It wasn't what he'd wanted but it had been expected. A few whirlwind weeks with her and he'd taken the risk. He told his dad that he was going to law school to study criminal law. His dad had responded by pulling the plug on paying for school. The result was Drew going back to Fort Worth as a cop—this time, permanently. After years of night school, he had his law degree but by then he wasn't just working as a cop anymore, he'd become one. Spending his life behind a desk just wasn't in the cards. Even Catfish Creek was better than that. And in a few days, that would be gone too. All he was waiting for was the call from the Fort Worth PD with a start date.

A noise behind him pulled him out of his thoughts and he turned around. Leah stood in the dim hall, the light from his bedroom silhouetting her and outlining every curve.

She held out the phone. "Isaac wants to talk to you."

He just bet Isaac did. He took the phone from Leah. "Hey, man."

"I'll be there in three hours," Isaac said.

"No need. I've got her and the Feds are doing surveillance."

"It doesn't seem right."

Drew shoved his hand through his hair and tried to imagine the fallout if Isaac showed up in Catfish Creek. It wouldn't be good. "You show up here with your B-Squad fire power and you'll put an even bigger target on Leah because Wynn and Miller will know she's got more backup than one guy and it'll make them desperate. People do stupid shit when they're desperate. Right now they still think it's an easy job and will lead the Feds right back to the man running the show. If Wynn and Miller scatter, the head of the snake will just send in more muscle—maybe more dangerous and definitely unknown. Right now, we know who they are and where they are. This is the best plan. She's protected. She's safe."

Drew left out the part about Leah being more pissed off than Beauford Lynch watching Maisy Aucoin's cat prance through his backyard.