Breathe

Chapter Four The Cherokee and Coffee

It was four days (well, technically three) after Chace Keaton said beautiful but bewildering words to me and sauntered out of my apartment.

In other words, it was Tuesday morning at eight thirty which was an hour before I had to get to work, preparing to open the library and I was in my Cherokee staking out the return bin in hopes of seeing the boy.

I was there on Tuesday because the library wasn’t open on Mondays.

Also because I hadn’t had time to come earlier.

This was because I was catching up on sleep, cleaning my house and going two kinds of shopping – grocery and for some kid I didn’t know. My time was also spent having dinner with my parents including helping my Mom make it and watching two movies with them after it. Not to mention, in order to keep my mind off things, I’d been to the gym twice and worked out for an hour rather than half that.

Further, I had a marathon session with Serenity to try to talk her down from uncovering dirt on scary, rich powerbrokers (this, incidentally, failed). I also had a marathon phone conversation with my sister Liza who lived in Gnaw Bone and was fighting with her husband (again). Though, not for the first time, even hearing it from Liza, I sided with Boyd. This wasn’t unusual but I didn’t tell Liza that. Not only that I sided with Boyd but also that it wasn’t unusual I sided with him and maybe she should stop being such a drama queen.

That said, what did I know? I’d never even had a boyfriend. I was not in any position to be a marriage counselor.

So instead I played my normal role, the sister-bitching listener.

In the time between Chace leaving me Thursday night (or, more aptly, Friday very early morning) I’d gone out and bought the boy a new coat as well as a hat, scarf, gloves and three pairs of thick, wool socks. I’d also guesstimated sizes and bought him two pairs of new jeans, two chunky, warm sweaters and some underwear.

With this, I added a pint of milk, three bottles of water, a package of bologna, a package of American cheese slices, a loaf of bread, a box of granola bars, three apples, a bunch of bananas, a cucumber (he wouldn’t eat it but I had to make the effort of getting what my Dad called “roughage” in him) and a ginormous bar of Hershey’s chocolate (which he probably would eat).

I’d stuffed them in easy to carry bags and laid them out with some books that I didn’t get from the library but bought. With this, I left a note I wrote that told him all of that was his, he could keep the books, more would be there on Wednesday and if there was anything he needed, all he had to do write me a note, tell me what it was, put it in the return bin and I’d get it for him.

Now, I was watching, having gone into the library the night before and checking the bin (he hadn’t returned anything), hoping he hadn’t returned anything since I checked. Also, I was hoping he’d show so I could get a better look at him, see which direction he came from and maybe, surreptitiously, follow him when he left.

I was focused on this and solely on this.

Because if I didn’t focus on this little boy I did not know but I did know needed me (or someone), I’d focus on my weird night with Chace and freak right the frak out.

After tossing and turning, finally getting to sleep in the wee hours of the morning only to drag through work on Friday, so exhausted, I took the alarming news without reaction that the library might, just might, be forced to close because of funding issues, I decided this was my best course of action.

Life was happening all around me. This boy was alone in the cold, getting beaten up by someone and dumpster diving. And I might lose my job and the town its library.

Both of these last were tragic for me, only one for the town.

This was tragic for me not only because it was my job, it was the only thing I ever wanted to do. I loved that library. Since I could remember, Mom took me there to check out books. Since she did this, she told me her Mom did the same with her when she was a little girl. And since I could get there on my own, I went there to get them.

I stayed there to read them. I did this because I loved it there, the feel, the smell of books, the quiet. Most of all I loved the serenity that came from being alone in a world of books at the same time not being alone because the world was around me, some of it real, the vast majority of it worlds all their own, contained on pages bound to a cover.

I didn’t know what I’d do if Carnal Library was closed and not just because it was my paycheck.

So I didn’t have time to worry about the confounding, mixed-message-giving Chace Keaton.

This was precisely the thought I was having when I heard my passenger side door open.

My body jerked, I let out a small cry and my head whipped around to see none other than Chace Keaton climbing in wearing jeans, a fantastic western style belt with an even more fantastic buckle, a canvas jacket lined in fleece, cowboy boots, a pearl snap denim shirt with western style stitching and carrying two white coffee cups from La-La Land Coffee. I knew at a glance that Sunny had either prepared the coffee or the cups because, in purple marker on the side, a bunch of flowers were drawn all around and Sunny drew flowers. If the mood struck him, Shambles drew moons and stars.

“Take this,” Chace ordered apropos of nothing, like, sharing why he was in my car outside the library at eight thirty in the morning with two coffees.

He was extending a cup.

Automatically, my mittened hand reached out and took it.

He settled in, slammed the door closed and kept being bossy.

“For God’s sake, Faye, it’s twenty degrees out there. Turn on the truck.”

“I’m on a stakeout,” I informed him and his eyes came to me so I finished, “I think it’s against the rules to have the car running during a stakeout. The noise will give you away.”

“Yeah, I guessed that you were on a stakeout. Newsflash, darlin’, since you don’t drive to work and your car is the only one in the lot, your sweet ass is in it and you aren’t hiding, I don’t think our street urchin is gonna miss you. This means he’s gonna get nowhere near this place so you might as well turn on the truck so you don’t freeze that sweet ass off.”

That was two “darlin’s”.

And when did my ass turn sweet?

“Chace –”

“Turn on the truck.”

God, he was bossy and annoying in the morning.

“Chace!”

He leaned into me and said quietly, “Baby, turn on the fuckin’ truck.”

Oh God.

Baby was nicer.

Like, by a lot.

I put my coffee between my knees and turned on the truck.

“What does it take? Around a year for this heap to warm up?” Chace asked before taking a sip from his coffee.

“It’s dependable,” I told him, taking my coffee from between my knees.

“Jeeps are. That being said, this should have been put out of its misery about ten years ago.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s a heap.”

“It’s fine, Chace,” I snapped then kept snapping. “What are you doing here? You’re blowing my cover.”

His eyes came to me and his lips were tipped up at the end.

Oh jeez.

His handsome lips on his handsome face tipped up looked nice.

“Blowing your cover?” he asked.

“I think you’re endowing our street urchin with bigger powers than he has. He’s just a kid.”

“He’s a kid living on the streets which means he’s in survival mode. Since no one, including teachers, knows who he fuckin’ is, that means he’s survived awhile.”

This was news.

“The teachers don’t know him?” I asked.

He shook his head and took another sip of his coffee which reminded me to take a sip of mine.

Hazelnut latte. My favorite.

“Nope,” he answered after he swallowed. “Asked the day after you reported seein’ him banged up, principal approached his staff. Went back with the sketch, no one recognizes him. Fingerprints were a bust too.”

“No one?”

“Nope.”

“How can that be?” I asked.

“He doesn’t go to school?” he asked back but it was an answer.

“Oh,” I whispered, his eyes dropped to my mouth and his lips tipped up again.

I liked that.

Frak.

Before I could get my wits about me, Chace spoke. “What’s in that haul?”

“Pardon?”

He tipped his head to the library, taking another sip of coffee so I took one of mine and looked to the library.

Then I looked back at him when he asked, “Those bags by the return bin. What’s in them?”

“A new coat, hat, scarf, gloves, three pairs of wool socks, two pairs of jeans, two warm sweaters, some underwear, a pint of milk, three bottles of water, bologna, cheese, bread, a box of granola bars, three apples, bananas, a cucumber and a ginormous bar of Hershey’s chocolate,” I shared. Chace stared at me without saying a word and he did this awhile so I finished, “He won’t eat the cucumber but Dad would be disappointed in me if I didn’t add roughage.”

“Christ,” he whispered.

“Don’t start,” I commanded. “I know I shouldn’t have added the chocolate but he’s a kid. He should have a treat.”

He kept staring at me without speaking and he did this another while and he did this in a way that made me weirdly nervous. The weirdly part was that I was nervous in a good way so I did the only think I could think to do.

I kept talking.

“By the way, I’ve been thinking on things, Chace, and you chased him too.”

“What?” he asked quietly.

“Thursday night, or Friday morning… whatever. You chased him. You told me I shouldn’t but you did too.”

I got another lip tip. It made me more weirdly nervous in an even better way and he muttered, “True enough. Though, I started out chasing you.”

I felt my brows go up. “You were chasing me?”

“Yeah, I started to chase you but the way you were goin’ after him, hell bent for leather, it occurred to me you would not be best pleased I caught you and stopped you. I didn’t want to deal with that backbone of yours getting any stronger if you were denied what you wanted. Especially in the middle of the night with you in an emotional state, in the throes of dealing with hearing Dobie Gray’s undeniably kickass but, no offense to you, honey, or Dobie Gray, in my opinion not cry worthy song. It also occurred to me you would be pleased I caught the kid for you so I went after him instead.”

It occurred to me, right then, that he was teasing me. Just a little bit but he still was.

And he said straight out he went after the boy for me, which was super nice.

This made me more nervous, the good kind so, of course, I kept talking.

“Right then. Also, I will point out, when we first saw him, you put your hand to your gun. So it could be me shouting at him that terrified him. But you have to admit it could also be you not only having a gun, but putting your hand to it when you saw him. Then you chasing him and being bigger, stronger and faster than me, and, I’ll repeat, doing this in the possession of a weapon.”

“I’ll give you that too and it’d suck, I freaked the kid out but no way I’m gonna be in an alley in the middle of the night or at any time with a pretty woman, hear a crash, know an unidentified person was in the alley and not go for my gun. So, I get the chance, I’ll apologize to the kid. What I won’t do is apologize to you.”

Holy frak!

Not only was my ass now sweet, I was now a pretty woman.

What was going on?

No, no, I didn’t want to know. Chace could be sweet or quiet or soft and then he’d switch off, go remote, get mean or walk away.

I wasn’t going to go there. Not again.

So I went somewhere else.

“I know you find it hilarious that Dobie Gray moves me but, for your information, life is pretty crazy right now. Not to mention I’m worried about some kid I don’t know, like super worried so even the littlest thing might set me off. Including Dobie Gray.”

This, of course, was me defending my reaction to a lie I’d told him about a song I wasn’t listening to, but I thought it was my best course at that moment.

It was, I would find, not.

His brows drew together and he asked, “Life is pretty crazy?”

Fabulous.

More proof lying got you into trouble in a variety of ways.

“Yes,” I answered, luckily not a lie, and said no more.

“Your life?” he enquired, sounding incredulous. I shifted my booty in my seat and squared my shoulders all while I watched Chace shift slightly up in his. His eyes lit and he muttered, “Christ, here we go. Backbone.”

At his mutter, I got it.

And it irritated me.

Therefore, I snapped, “Is it that surprising I have a backbone?”

“Well… yeah.”

“Why?” I kept snapping.

“Baby,” he said softly and gave me another baby and it was soft so I felt my heart skip, “you live in a book.”

I ignored my reaction to him calling me baby and replied, “I might do that but I still live and to live, walk, talk, breathe, eat, you have to have a backbone.”

“I think, pretty much, of all of that, you need it just to walk,” he returned, lips tipped up again. He was teasing me again, I liked it again but still, I felt myself glaring.

I was uncertain if I’d ever glared at anyone who wasn’t related to me.

But I was certain I was glaring at Chace Keaton right then.

“Are you making fun of me?” I asked sharply.

“No,” he answered, his lips still tipped up.

“Then why are you grinning?”

“’Cause you’re cute and you’re cuter when you get pissed though that’s debatable since you’re cute a lot.”

Now I was cute?

What was going on?

I felt my brows snap together and I asked, “Do you have multiple personalities?”

“Not that I know of,” he answered instantly.

“I suggest you get checked out,” I shot back then watched as he threw back his head and laughed.

I took an angry sip of coffee. Even delicious La-La Land coffee, and Chace looking and sounding gorgeous while laughing, didn’t make me any less peeved so I was glaring at him still when he stopped laughing.

I was also ready for him.

“Why are you here, bringing me coffee?”

He answered immediately, “At first it was ’cause I saw you sittin’ here in the cold so I got you a coffee and came to tell you that you didn’t have to sit here in the cold since I set up cameras.”

He lifted his coffee cup but his long, attractive index finger (yes, he even had an attractive index finger) was extended and pointing through my windshield. I followed it and screwed up my eyes to look and, indeed, there they were. In the upper corner of the library, three cameras pointed in different directions aimed around and at the return bin.

“Feeds go to a tape,” he continued and I looked back at him. “Interns at the Station can scroll through ‘em. They see the kid, they alert me or Frank. We got an image of him, it’s better than the sketch, we might be able to get a hit on missing persons or runaways in a national database. We get a direction coming or going, I can put up more cameras, different places, different angles, find out which direction he heads here from and if he goes back the same way.”

“Oh,” I whispered.

“That was why I’m here bringing you coffee until you told me your life is pretty crazy,” he went on. “Now I’m here to listen to why your life is pretty crazy.”

“It’s nothing,” I blew it off.

“It’s something if Dobie Gray sets you into the dark night putting yourself in danger in order to brood.”

“I wasn’t in danger,” I retorted.

“Faye,” he said softly, “I know you know not too long ago we had a serial killer who lived undetected amongst our own and did it for a good spell. I also know you know that recently, serious shit went down that rocked this town and I’m guessin’ you, like everyone, is waitin’ to see if more will come of that. And, honey, more might come of that so you have to have a mind to your safety.”

“More might come of that?” I asked quietly, adding onto my mental list of things to do when I got home. I needed to message Benji and Serenity and implore them to give up their long-distance sleuthing.

“You show me yours, I’ll show you mine.”

At his words, I felt my eyes get wide and I breathed, “What?”

“Crazy life,” he stated as his explanation and I got it.

I decided I might as well tell him. It was becoming clear that along with multiple personalities, Chace Keaton cursed with alarming frequency and was bossy and annoying in the morning. He also was obstinate, but not just in the morning.

“There are rumors that due to budget constraints, there are going to be cuts and one of those cuts is Carnal Library. They’re thinking of closing it down entirely.”

I watched his eyes flashed right before he noted softly, “You’ll lose your job.”

“And the town will lose its library,” I replied.

“Shit, Faye,” he whispered.

“So, yeah, crazy stuff. Now, you show me yours.”

He shook his head and asked, “Is there something we can do?”

“Who can do?”

“You, me, the town,” he answered.

I shook my head but said, “I’m asking. We can conceivably fundraise, go for grants and it doesn’t cost a mint to keep a library running but it isn’t a drop in the bucket either. There are things we’ve needed to do awhile and haven’t had the money, such as upgrade our computers which are five years old and see a lot of use. Carnal has some money in it, a few private donors who, if feeling generous, might help out but if they don’t, local fundraising might not be enough.”

“Petitions?” he asked and I shrugged.

“No idea.”

“Wouldn’t hurt,” he told me. “Get one made up, I’ll take one to the Station. You can give Lexie one, she’ll get signatures at the salon. Stella, the garage. Krystal, Bubba’s. Maybe they see the community backing the library, they’ll look elsewhere.”

“That’s nice, Chace, but the elsewhere they’ll be looking to cut is at the schools or the Police Station. If people know that, the library is screwed.”

“Honey, they’ve had consultants in and deemed Carnal Police was overstaffed. They’re keeping us at two detectives, twelve officers, the Cap and no Chief. Admin pool is cut back from four to two and they’ve dumped the position of receptionist, putting a uniform on desk duty. The City Council is taking over as Chief and the Cap will report directly to him. That’s a loss of ten personnel. Just Fuller’s salary was over six figures, his inner sanctum also were overpaid. They’re saving a fuckload on that.”

“Is your job safe?” I asked quickly and I watched his mouth get soft.

But his tone was strange, it sounded slightly self-deprecating when he answered, “Yeah, no way they’re gonna get rid of the savior of CPD.”

“Chace,” I whispered but said no more because I didn’t entirely get what he said or, more to the point, how he said it because he was the savior of the CPD. People were dying, his wife being that people, and others were getting framed and doing time for crimes they didn’t commit. Chace and Frank Dolinski had taken grave risks working undercover locally for Internal Affairs in order to witness, document and uncover the corruption that had infested CPD and kept the entire town of Carnal under the thumb of a small-minded, bigoted, self-important tyrant for over a decade. Everyone knew that.

“I’ll look into this library shit,” Chace offered, taking me from my thoughts.

“What can you do?” I queried.

“Ask around. Find out why CPD cut back spending by hundreds of thousands of dollars and, on the heels of that, we’re gonna lose our library.”

“You don’t really have to do that,” I told him.

“You’re right. I really don’t. But I’m gonna.”

I drew in breath.

This was nice too.

Then I whispered, “Okay,” and after that, I took a sip of coffee.

He took a sip of his and aimed his eyes out the windshield.

“Now,” I started carefully, “you were going to show me –”

“Fuck,” he muttered and I saw his eyes were focused on something.

“What?” I asked, turning my head and whispering, “Holy frak,” at what I saw.

The boy was by the return bin. He was crouched, looking through the bags I left him.

I held my breath and I didn’t even notice my hand shooting out and blindly finding Chace’s. Not even when his fingers closed around mine.

We sat, still, silent, watching and holding hands as the boy found my note, read it quickly and shoved it in the bag. Then he shoved some books into the return bin and snatched up all the handles on the bags. Darting a glance left and right but not behind him where we were, he crept around the front of the library and disappeared.

“I’m gonna follow him,” Chace muttered and I heard his door open.

My hand clenched his and he stopped folding out of the truck to look back at me.

“Don’t scare him,” I whispered.

“I won’t, baby,” he whispered back, squeezed my hand, let it go then angled out of my SUV.

He closed the door and I watched him jog to the library and around it until he disappeared.

My eyes shifted to the dash and I saw he’d left his coffee cup there.

I looked to mine, the one he bought me.

I felt the heat pumping in my car, making it warm and cozy.

My eyes went back to his coffee cup and my mind decided I really should get that bronzed. And mine (when I was done). And maybe my passenger seat. And possibly my hand that he squeezed.

Then it hit me all that just happened, Chace showing up with coffee, us talking and it seeming normal if you didn’t count him calling my ass “sweet”, me a “pretty woman”, telling me I was cute and teasing me, that was.

It was like we were friends.

Friends that danced at midnight.

Jeez, I needed to stop hiding and have the girls over for dinner and margaritas as soon as fraking possible.

That was, after I figured out if I should call Chace in an hour or two and find out what he found out about the boy.

Chace

Chace walked up the street, eyes on the library.

He’d never really noticed it, even knowing Faye worked there.

Now, knowing she might lose her job and the town might lose its library, he did.

An attractive building. Red brick. There was a concrete plaque over the door that stated it was built in 1902. Six steps leading up to the double front doors. Four, large, paned windows on either side. The shrubs and grass in front of it now covered in snow and large tufts of snow covered the four, large urns, two at the top of the steps, two at the bottom that he had vaguely noticed were filled with healthy flowers in the summer months.

Eyes on the urns, he wondered if, in the previous summers, Faye planted them.

As he was wondering, her pretty, cute, bossy voice filled his head.

Don’t start, I know I shouldn’t have added the chocolate but he’s a kid. He should have a treat.

Chace grinned to himself.

She’d kitted out that kid with the amount of food and clothes a lot of underprivileged kids would kill for, runaways definitely would. And books. She hadn’t bought him a coat, some bologna, bread and pop and was done with it. She’d gone all out. She then staked out the return bin, still looking out for him.

Chace’s grin got bigger.

He was being fucking stupid, he knew it. He should steer well clear. He knew that too.

But he didn’t give a fuck.

The minute he saw the anguish in her eyes under the streetlamps and knew she’d been crying, he stopped fighting it. He’d chewed on it over the weekend. He was distracted during his dinner with his Mom in a way she noticed and asked about it, but he carefully skirted the issue and didn’t tell her.

But he knew, even before he drove by the library that morning and saw her in her Cherokee, something that provided him a golden opportunity to get in there, that he was no longer going to try to fight her pull.

So he stopped trying.

He should take better care of her. He should leave her to find a good man who could focus on her, their lives, the family they’d build. A man who didn’t have so much baggage sometimes it was hard to haul his ass out of bed in the morning, it was so fucking heavy. Who wasn’t caked in the filth he swam in for a decade. Who didn’t come from a dysfunctional home that added more baggage to an already crippling load. Who didn’t detest his father. Who didn’t have to put energy into protecting his delicate, oversensitive mother. Who didn’t have a dead wife who he didn’t love but he also didn’t protect and therefore her last experience on this earth was having her mouth raped.

But he wasn’t going to do that.

Right now, Faye was worried about this kid. Right now, she had shit on her mind that sent her into the dark night. Shit he now knew meant she might lose her job which meant, for a librarian in a small town, she was fucked. To get a job in her profession, she’d have to move. A move that would take her away from her family and hometown. Or she’d have to find a different occupation. Right now, she had no man to take her back. She had a few friends and a good family but that wasn’t the same as having a man take your back.

This meant, Chace decided, he was going to be the man who took her back.

It was a weak decision and it was wrong. It was an excuse and a lame one. And it was highly likely once she found out everything about him it wouldn’t end well.

But in his mind’s eye he saw her face get adorably angry and heard her musical but irate voice ask, Do you have multiple personalities?

Seeing it, hearing her voice, he also decided he didn’t give a fuck that he was weak and what he was doing was wrong.

He was still going to do it.

And in doing it, he was heading back to the library and not his truck so he could tell her what had happened with the boy, instead of doing what he should do and go to work.

But as he was jogging across the street to the opposite corner where the library was, his head turned so he could look to her old, beat up Cherokee in the side parking lot and his peripheral vision caught on something. So his head turned further and he saw his burgundy GMC Yukon still where he parked it on the street. He also saw a man he knew, a man he detested only slightly less than his father, leaning against the grill, arms crossed on his chest.

Shit. Fuck. Jesus.

This was something he wanted to ignore but couldn’t. It was time to have words, state where he was with this shit in a way that couldn’t be misinterpreted and hopefully, but doubtfully, move on.

He stopped jogging and started walking, eyes trained to the man, feeling his jaw get hard.

Clinton Bonar, his father’s associate which meant lackey, kept his eyes trained to Chace as he approached. He was wearing shades but Chace still felt the man’s eyes mostly through the nasty prickle on the back of his neck he always felt when he was around his father, his father’s cronies or their minions.

He stopped a foot away and looked down the two inches he had on the man.

Clinton didn’t speak, didn’t even tip up his chin in greeting.

Chace didn’t tip up his chin but he did speak.

“Dad back from his sick fuck fest?”

Clinton didn’t move but asked, “Isn’t it time you got over that, Chace? It’s far from unusual for a man or a woman to have certain penchants.”

“Wrong, Bonar, I know Dad’s penchants and they are very unusual.”

“He’s a virile man with a great deal of energy even at his age.”

“He’s a married man at his current age and was six years ago and for the last thirty-seven years.”

“A man needs what he needs and if he can’t get it at home, he’ll find a way to get it.”

Chace jerked up his chin. “Dad certainly does that.”

Clinton shook his head. “I’m uncertain why we’re talking about this.”

“Then I’ll do you a favor and fill you in. That would be because I’m remindin’ you that whatever the fuck he sent you here to do, I am not gonna do.”

“We’ve been getting that impression considering you aren’t answering or returning our calls.”

“Then you’re getting the right impression. I don’t want to hear from you and I don’t wanna speak to you. Any of you.”

Clinton pushed away from Chace’s vehicle so he was standing, not leaning, and said quietly, “There’s unfinished business.”

“Yeah, you’ve told me more than once,” Chace replied. “And I’ve told you, it’s not my unfinished business. It’s yours.”

“You know that isn’t true.”

“You’re not catchin’ this, man, but with me not talkin’ to you or any of your buddies, it is true.”

Chace watched him take a calming breath in through his nose before he continued, “We are aware that Darren Newcomb gave a copy of your father’s tape to Tyrell Walker and Mr. Walker made copies and gave them to a variety of residents of Carnal. We wish for those tapes to be collected.”

“Good luck with that.”

Clinton ignored him and kept going. “Newcomb’s also in possession of a variety of items we need returned.”

“Good luck with that too.”

Clinton shook his head. “I don’t think you’re understanding me, Chace. Newcomb has approached all of my colleagues, sharing he has these items and his intentions. He’s received remuneration for their return and has reneged on his part of that deal and asked for more remuneration. This cannot go on.”

“I can see you got a big problem there, Bonar, and I know you boys are thorough so I know you know this but I’ll tell you all the same. Newcomb lost his job, he’s a disgraced cop, no way in fuck he’s gonna find another position anywhere and his daughter has leukemia. He has no insurance but he does have a strong desire to do whatever the fuck he can to keep her alive. The shit he has to do costs a fuckin’ whack and is never ending unless, God forbid, she dies or she beats that shit. So my advice, settle in because he’s gonna take you for a long ride.”

“We all agree it’s unfortunate Newcomb’s family is suffering and we hope the outcome is a positive one. That being said, my colleagues feel they should make their own choices as to what charities they’d wish to receive their donations.”

“Then they shouldn’t have done stupid, fucked up shit and got caught doin’ it by Fuller and his band of asshole brothers. That’s also their problem and not mine.”

He leaned slightly forward, Chace’s body went alert so he wisely leaned right back but did it speaking. “I’ll remind you, your father is one of the men who might, if he stops paying, be exposed.”

“And I’ll remind you I don’t give a fuck.”

Clinton continued, “He’s exposed then your mother learns about his…” he paused, “inclinations. If you find them unsavory, a man, a police detective, imagine what it would do to Valerie.”

Chace leaned in this time and even seeing Bonar’s body go alert, he didn’t lean back.

“You got me with that shit years ago. I swallowed that bitter pill and jacked my life doing it.”

“If this is true, why did you approach IA and offer yourself to go undercover?”

“That pill wore off, Bonar, and when it did, I couldn’t live with that shit anymore.”

“You made a lot of powerful men very vulnerable doing that, Chace. They don’t like to feel vulnerable.”

“I don’t give a fuck about that either.”

“You made Valerie vulnerable.”

Chace successfully fought back the urge to suck in a sharp breath, and the stronger urge to grab the man by his fancy-ass silk tie and slam him to the hood of his car, before he replied, “Then it’s time I had a chat with my Mom. It won’t be pleasant and it’ll fuck her up but it’s better comin’ from me than from the media or one of your goons.”

“Chace, you are not understanding me and you need to understand me. My colleagues find this situation untenable, they want it to be over and they have the means to see to that in ways you will not like all that much.”

“Is that a threat?” Chace asked.

“You know these men don’t make threats.”

“Then here’s the same, you or they fuck with my mother or me, what I do they won’t like all that much.”

“Because of Trane, we understand that Valerie and you are off-limits. That said, there are a number of citizens in this town you love so much you’d betray your own father to protect it. These men will not mind doing what they have to do to get what they want and laying waste to this town in the process. Starting with Tyrell and Alexa Walker.”

Feeling his blood heat and his palms itch, Chace took a step into him, getting chest to chest, nose to nose and forcing Clinton to press himself back into the grill of the SUV.

“You fuck with Ty or Lexie, you fuck with me. You fuck with anyone in this town, you fuck with me. Those men wanna lay waste to Carnal, they gotta get through me first. Something you forget, Bonar, I may have left home, I may have become a cop but for seventeen years, I was at the hand of Trane Keaton and I learned every trick he has. To protect what’s mine, make no mistake, asshole, I’ll use them.”

“Calm down, Chace,” he replied placatingly.

“Fuck calm,” Chace growled. “My father gettin’ off on sick-fuck, jacked up kink made my life a livin’ hell for far too long. I’m clear. I’m stayin’ clear. You tell your boys to stay clear, man up and take whatever’s gonna come to them.”

“We’re simply asking you to have a conversation with two men. Walker, to get him to collect his tapes, Newcomb, to get him to deliver on his part of the bargain. Very simple.”

“Gettin’ either of those men to do that is not about havin’ a conversation. It’s about usin’ a strong arm and I’ve done that for you and your boys. I’m done doin’ that too.”

“As you’ve brought it up, at this juncture, I unfortunately have to remind you that you have, indeed, acted as an enforcer for my colleagues. If this was leaked, you’d find the questions asked by your superiors very uncomfortable and you’d undoubtedly lose your standing in this town as its saving grace hero.”

“It’s not a role that fits, you know why since you and your colleagues jacked my shit. So leak it. I’ll take it.”

“It’s conceivable this would make the news. You were held up as the poster boy for bravery against corruption. The media enjoys building a hero. But they enjoy it more, tearing him down. It could destroy your life.”

“Clue in, asshole, my life’s already in the toilet. Not only would it be a relief but, I don’t think you get this, I know my father’s plays but I am not my father or any of the men you work for. I got a pair. Shit happens, I don’t hide behind my money and men like you. I deal. Dish it out. I want you to. I already live under a cloud. Nothin’ you or those douchebags you work for, who keep you in your expensive suits and shoes and haircuts, could do could make it any worse.”

“You are very wrong, Chace.”

“Try it and see.”

Clinton held his eyes and Chace let him.

Then he said quietly, “There could come a time when Trane can’t protect you.”

“Let that time be now,” Chace invited. “I don’t want that piece of shit’s protection.”

“This is the wrong decision,” Clinton whispered.

“No,” Chace did not whisper. “Your boys are runnin’ so scared at the same time thinkin’ their money and position can buy them anything, they haven’t been payin’ attention. Your first move is against Ty and Lexie, you’ll create a shit storm so extreme it’ll never blow over. Not only is Ty Walker a man who has taken enough and is not about to take any more and will do what he’s gotta do to protect himself, his wife and the family they’re makin’, he’s a man who’s got some serious power at his back. He stubs his toe and it looks suspect, the full force of the media, Samuel Sterling and whoever Sterling can round up will be all over your asses. I got their back and I’ll have it any way I have to have it even if it means throwin’ myself on my sword. Think of that in your strategy sessions. And since I’m handin’ out advice, Darren Newcomb is a racist asswipe, dirty cop who beat his wife so badly, the only play he gave her was for her to leave him and her kids. But he loves his daughter. He’ll go down for her. You fuck with him and any chance he has to help his daughter beat that shit eatin’ away at her, he’ll make it ugly. So counsel your boys to take on a new charity and learn to hope Newcomb doesn’t get greedy. You see his daughter through that shit, deal with him after. He deserves it. His daughter does not.”

“I’ll take this under advisement and share it with my colleagues.”

“Good call.”

“But you haven’t addressed the matter of your mother.”

Chace couldn’t beat it back this time and sucked in breath.

If his mother knew about his father, it’d kill her.

She’d been a beauty her whole life, even now, at age sixty. She came from money, had been spoiled but it didn’t make her like Misty, grasping and entitled. Nothing could beat his mother’s sweet. It was how she was because it was who she was.

She loved and adored her son.

She loved and worshiped her husband.

Trane Keaton was a lot of things and not one of them was good. Except the fact that in his sick way, he felt the same about his wife. Like Chace, he handled her with care, like she was exactly what she was, a delicate, fragile thing who gave nothing to the world but beauty.

But she wasn’t perfect precisely because she was fragile. The kind of fragile it took medication to strengthen or it would come flying apart. The kind of fragile that, before the meds and even sometimes after them, led to episodes that were at best unpleasant and at worst, especially when he was a kid, terrifying.

Fuck, she’d had a bad break that put her into treatment after reading an article about a little girl who’d been kidnapped, molested and murdered. As terrible as that shit was, she totally couldn’t deal.

Finding out her husband was unfaithful to her repeatedly throughout their marriage and how would end her.

Chace knew that. His father knew that. But it was Chace knowing it that bought them his cooperation, until he couldn’t stomach cooperating anymore because he couldn’t even look in his own eyes in the mirror.

His threat to tell her had been a bluff at the time and Clinton knew it. But now, as he had when he made the decision to approach Internal Affairs and offer to assist in exposing the corruption in Carnal, Chace had to weigh his mother’s mental health against the well-being of an entire town.

And he loved her a fuckuva lot.

But Ty and Lexie Walker had been through enough in their lives and they had a baby on the way.

Just they tipped the scales.

The rest sent them crashing.

“You force my hand, I’ll do what I have to do. I do what I have to do, I’ll deal with the fallout but you will deal with my father,” Chace replied.

Again, Clinton’s shades stayed locked to Chace’s eyes.

Then he murmured, “Please step away.”

“I will, I get your assurances I don’t see you again or hear from any of your crew of assholes.”

“I cannot guarantee that, Chace.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Chace whispered.

Clinton continued to hold his eyes long moments before he requested quietly, “I’m asking you to step back.”

Chace drew in breath at the same time he realized he couldn’t do what he very much would like to do. Use his fists to provide Clinton Bonar with the experience Darren Newcomb’s daughter was very familiar with and that was a prolonged hospital stay.

His only play was to step back and walk away.

So he stepped back and walked away. The direction he walked was toward the library.

“This isn’t finished,” Clinton warned his back.

“It never is,” Chace muttered, not knowing if Clinton could hear him and not giving a fuck if he could.

He watched the library coming closer as he thought of dancing with Faye after midnight to a fantastic fucking song while she smiled at him and let him hold her close. He’d sat in her truck, smelling her perfume, watching her expressive face, hearing her sweet voice using a variety of different tones that were as expressive as her face.

He’d bought her coffee. He’d watched a kid who had nothing grab five bags full of what he would consider gold that Faye Goodknight gave to him out of nothing but kindness.

He’d had a good morning, his first good morning in a really long time that his father and his bullshit had turned to shit.

And that was exactly what he felt as his long legs ate the distance from his truck to the library. Shit. He smelled it. He felt it. He tasted it in his mouth.

He had to get rid of it.

He knew only one way to do that. Only two times in fucking years he’d smelled nothing but sweet, felt it and, only once, tasted it.

Dancing with Faye and kissing her.

The library wasn’t open yet but he still wrapped his fingers around the handle of the front door and pulled.

It opened.

Thank fuck, she was in and hadn’t locked the doors.

He walked in, vaguely seeing the layout, the shelves, the books, smelling that smell that only libraries had but his focus was on scanning the space.

To the right, the long checkout desk.

From a door behind it at the back left, Faye came out.

“Hey,” she greeted in her sweet voice. “Did you see where he went?”

Chace didn’t reply, he stalked to her.

When he started moving, she dipped her ear to her shoulder, her head jutting slightly forward, her face going from curiosity to scrutiny.

“Are you okay?” she asked quietly.

Chace rounded the side of the counter.

Cute, tight skirt that skimmed her hips, cupped her ass and hit her knees. Her low-heeled, brown boots. A scoop-necked tee under a cardigan. Skin displayed above the neckline of the tee highlighting an unusual and attractive three-tiered necklace. Auburn hair falling in sheets over her shoulders and down her chest, a hank of it at the top, right of her forehead pulled to the side in a cute bobby pin. Makeup subtle and appealing.

She looked like a librarian who had good taste in clothes and a light but expert hand with makeup. Her own style, a style that did nothing to emphasize the obviously attractive features of her face or frame and because of that, they contradictorily accentuated them. It was a style that worked for her in a huge way.

And it had been working for Chace the same way for a long fucking time.

“Chace,” she said, still talking quietly, “did something –?”

She stopped talking abruptly when it came clear to her that he wasn’t going to stop coming at her.

She took a step back.

Too late.

He was on her, he rounded her waist with an arm and twisted them so he was moving her backwards toward the door she’d come out.

“Oh God,” she whispered, hands coming up to rest light on his chest, eyes wide and staring in his. “Is the boy okay?”

He didn’t answer.

He moved her through the door, reached out a hand, grabbed it, slammed it, turned her sharply then moved in so she was pressed to it.

“What are you –?”

She stopped talking abruptly this time because he tightened his arm around her waist and yanked it up, yanking her into his body. His other hand drove into her silken hair at the back of her head. Then his fingers cupped her head and tipped it to the side. He slanted his head to the other side and slammed his mouth down on hers.

She made a noise of surprise, her body tense against his and he thrust his tongue between her lips. Without a choice, they opened, another noise of surprise filled his mouth but he ignored that one too, carried on with what he was doing and took her mouth.

She tasted like bubblemint again. This time he knew why since his tongue encountered the gum.

Sweet, fresh, clean. Fucking clean. Beautiful.

God, nothing more beautiful.

He deepened an already deep kiss, needing it and she gave it to him. The tension flowed from her body, it melted into his, her hands slid up his chest, one curving around the back of his neck, fingers going into his hair. The other one slid around his shoulders and held on tight.

Then she gave more, pressing deeper, her tongue timidly sparring with his, her fingers flexing into his scalp, her arm holding tighter. He took it, pulling her close even as he pressed her back into the door, forcing her soft curves to mold to his frame.

When he felt it start to take over, when he knew he’d lose control if he didn’t stop, he stopped.

Tearing his mouth from hers, he tipped his head to rest his forehead on hers, his eyes opening to see, up close, hers drifting open in a cute, sexy flutter and he whispered, “Bubblemint.”

She blinked slowly. No, languidly. Like she was shaking off a dream she didn’t want to let go.

Then she whispered back, “I’m addicted to it.”

Chace couldn’t bury the groan that escaped his throat as he slid his cheek down hers and buried his face in her neck.

Her perfume was flowery but there was a hint of vanilla mellowing it. Sweet and fresh.

And clean.

The woman in his arms was addicted to gum. Not crack. Not kinky sex. Not booze. Not shopping. Not nagging a man or controlling him.

Gum.

Fucking gum.

He smiled against her neck.

“Chace,” she called, a tremor in her soft, now somewhat husky voice. Uncertainty, a hint of fear. He felt her body tightening, preparing, bracing, not knowing, as he’d taught her not to know, what was coming next but knowing it could be unpleasant and his head came up.

“I lost him on Cheyenne Street,” he announced.

She blinked, faster this time before she whispered a stammered, “Wh… what?”

“Figure he made me though I don’t know when. Had him through town, up Navajo, down Ute, he was moving quick but not in an obvious hurry. Nervous, scouting, but like it was his normal routine, not afraid. He turned down Cheyenne and he was wind.”

“Oh,” she whispered, disappointed.

“Seein’ as I don’t know when he made me, he could live out there and he caught on I was followin’ him and disappeared on his way home or, if he made me earlier, he purposefully led me off-track.”

Her head tipped slightly to the side and she reminded him, “He’s nine or ten, Chace, and again, you’re acting like he’s a criminal mastermind. He’s just a kid.”

Fuck, it was whacked, it was his name but he loved it when she called him Chace in that voice of hers. It went clean through him every time and when it went through him it went in a fucking good way.

“He’s a street kid,” he reminded her back.

“Yes, a street kid, not a criminal mastermind.”

He gave her a squeeze and dipped his face close to hers at the same time he dipped his voice low and said, “Baby, I’m a cop. Just trust I know what I’m talkin’ bout. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she whispered immediately and it wasn’t lost on Chace that that wasn’t the first time he called her baby and, after, she immediately gave in.

He filed this away for future reference then asked, “What’s next in your scheduled haul?”

“My scheduled haul?”

“For the kid.”

“Oh,” she said quietly then, unfortunately, her hands moved but fortunately they only moved so she could cock her arms to her sides and rest them flat on his chest so she moved but didn’t move away. She then kept talking. “More food. Cereal this time, I think, so I’ll need to get him more milk. Maybe a bowl, plate, spoon, fork, knife and a sleeping bag just in case he’s sleeping rough.” Her eyes drifted away and she muttered, “I’ll go to the mall tonight after work. I promised him another stash tomorrow.” She focused back on him. “And I’ll write another note. Introduce myself, tell him a little about me. So, you know, maybe if he starts to get to know me he might begin to trust me.”

“My turn,” Chace replied. “I’ll get the food and the sleeping bag and I’ll bring it, pizza and beer to your place tonight. I’ll be there at seven.”

That got him another blink and when she was done he saw it bought him that look of hers, eyes wide, lips parted, shock, wonder, fucking cute.

“Pizza and beer at my place?” she whispered.

“Seven,” he didn’t whisper but said that one word firm.

Her chin suddenly tipped down so she could look at her hands on his chest. Then her eyes darted around as her body got tight and he knew she was finally realizing where she was and therefore belatedly freaking out.

To contain this, he kept his one arm tight at her waist and slid the other hand out of her hair but did it gliding his fingers through it then feeling it drift over his hand as he wrapped his other arm around her shoulder blades.

“Faye,” he called and her eyes darted to him.

“What’s happening?” Her question was quiet.

“Honey, cast your mind back,” he urged gently. “Two minutes ago, I was kissin’ you. Three days ago, I was dancin’ with you. You know what’s happening.”

She shook her head and stammered, “I… I…” With visible effort she pulled it together and went on, even quieter this time, “The last time I kissed –”

Chace cut her off, “This time I kissed you.”

“Is there a distinction?” she asked.

“I told you I didn’t like surprises. You surprised me. I didn’t react very well.”

Her spine straightened. He saw it and this time felt it and her eyes narrowed when she agreed, “No, you really didn’t.”

What he did fucked her up. He knew it then, he knew it now. He hated it then, he hated it now. He was lucky as all hell to be standing right where he was and he knew that too.

But since he was and she wasn’t throwing a shit fit, pushing him off or shutting down, he took that as a sign and powered through.

“You’re right,” he whispered, holding her narrowed eyes. “I really didn’t.”

She put slight pressure on his chest and snapped, “You’re giving me mixed messages, Detective Keaton.”

It was the wrong thing to say.

Hearing her call him that, denying him something he’d come to love in the expanse of two weeks, thinking for years he’d never get his shot to hold the town’s pretty librarian in his arms just as he was doing right then. What he’d just endured with Bonar, all that coming back up. Faye being angry, pulling away. Something he’d been keeping a tenuous hold on for a long fucking time snapped inside him and he instantly decided to power through a different way.

He put not slight pressure on her entire body, his arms tightening, his frame pressing her into the door, his face getting close and he growled, “Right then, here’s one that isn’t mixed. Do not call me Detective Keaton. To you, I… am… Chace.”

“Oh…” she breathed then kept breathing when she finished, “kay.”

“Okay what?” he prompted.

“Okay, Chace,” she whispered immediately.

“Good,” he kept growling, “we got that down. Now we’ll get this straight and not mixed. You know my shit’s fucked up. I’m workin’ on that. You popped up with bad timing once and surprised me another time. I didn’t handle either of those well. The shit I’m workin’ through, I cannot promise I’ll do any better. What I can promise is I like the way you dress. I like the sound of your voice. I like the way you smell. I like that your hair feels the way it looks, like silk. I like the way you taste. I like that you got a backbone. I like it when you get scared of me. I like it when you stand up to me. I like it that you care as much as you do for a kid you don’t know jack about. I like it that you have no clue how to kiss but still, the two kisses I’ve shared with you are the best I’ve ever had. By far. I like all of that more than is healthy for me but especially for you. But I like it so much, I’m gonna ignore that and hope like fuck this doesn’t get jacked like everything else in my life has a tendency to do. I like it so much I’m willin’ to take that risk. I like it so much that I’ve decided you’re gonna take that risk with me. And I’ll make that straight too. I’m not asking you to take that risk, I’m tellin’ you you’re doin’ it. That means I’ll be at your place at seven with pizza, beer, a sleeping bag and food for our kid.”

He moved infinitesimally so his mouth was a breath away from hers and he could smell her gum. The look on her face, the feel of her in his arms and the smell of her gum cut clean through him like it always did.

Then he finished but he did it on a whisper.

“Now, baby, are we straight?”

“Yes,” she whispered back, proving, after his caveman speech the baby thing worked fucking great.

“Good,” he muttered, fighting a grin.

“I don’t like beer,” she announced quietly.

“What do you like?”

“Wine.”

“What kind?”

“With pizza?”

“Yeah.”

“Red.”

“Dry or sweet?”

“Dry.”

“You got it, honey.”

The tip of her tongue came out to wet her bottom lip, his lips were so close it grazed his and when she tasted him, her body gave a soft jolt and her tongue disappeared. But it was too late, he felt that score through him and pressed her deeper into the door.

Her fingers curled into his jacket and she went on in a whisper, “I don’t like pineapple on pizza.”

“Works for me because I don’t either.”

“Okay.” She kept whispering, bit her lip, let it go and admitted, “You’re kinda freaking me out.”

“Good.”

She blinked again and her voice was pitched a half octave higher when she asked, “Good?”

“Faye, darlin’, you’re on your game, I’m fucked. I keep you off-balance, I got the upper hand. What I can tell, with you, I’m gonna need the upper hand.”

“I, uh… that sounds… um… are you sure that in a, uh…” she stammered exposing something he already knew, that she had absolutely no clue how to play a man, the game or be in a relationship and that was cute and hot too. She finally finished, “That doesn’t sound good.”

“My job in that is to make it good for you.”

“Oh,” she breathed and he again fought a grin.

Then he asked, “You get that?”

“No,” she admitted softly.

She didn’t, he knew it and that was also cute and hot.

“You will,” he muttered.

“All right,” she muttered back.

“Seven,” he stated.

“Seven,” she agreed, nodding once.

“I gotta go.”

“Okay.”

“Before I go, give me that mouth,” he ordered and watched her eyes get wide.

Cute.

Hot.

“Pardon?”

“Baby,” he whispered. “Before I go, I want your mouth.”

He felt her tremble in his arms. Then he felt her body slide up his as she came up on her toes.

Then she gave him her mouth.

Chace took it and kept doing it until it was close to out-of-control. Only then did he stop, lift his lips, kiss her nose and step back. He pulled her from the door and held her loosely until he knew she was steady on her feet. Then he gave her stunned, soft, pretty, turned on face a smile before he walked away, not looking back.