Damn. I miss him and Paul. Two men who were closer to me than anyone else. And both gone way before their times.
Sighing quietly, I turn to Sophia and say, “We’re leaving in an hour. Anything left will be packed and brought over later. Pack light.”
I just put the shirt I’m wearing on, but now it’s soaking wet. Pulling the shirt over my head, I toss it toward my bag in the living room.
Might as well get dressed to go.
I hear Sophia following behind me as I move through the room. Stopping behind me as I bend over and pull a fresh t-shirt and pair of jeans out of my bag. I don’t bother finding a different room to change in and I don’t bother to face her as I push my sweats off my hips.
Stepping out of the sweats, I drop them in my bag.
I hear her take a small breath to speak to me only to stop when I straighten and pull my jeans up my legs. Yeah, my naked back has a way of doing that to women. It’s mostly the scars. Well that and my fabulous ass.
“Your back…” she starts but stops to make a little choking sound. “You’re not wearing underwear.”
I pull the new t-shirt over my head and down my torso. “I rarely do.”
“Oh,” she says as if she’s a little surprised, and then I can feel the atmosphere get heavy all of a sudden. “I’m not leaving here.”
“You are,” I say, then growl quietly to myself when my phone starts blaring.
Looking at her over my shoulder, I say, “You. Pack. Now.”
Pushing the connect button on the phone, I put it up to my ear. “What’s going on?”
“You’ve got incoming company. We tried to head him off, but that Trent guy is coming down your street right now,” Uriel says.
“Fucking hell,” I growl louder and glance at Sophia. It’s obvious she’s still very pissed off and raring for a fight. “Alright, moving the timetable up. Get some interference ready and I’ll call you as soon as we’re out.”
I end the call and focus all my attention on Sophia. “Your old boyfriend is dropping by soon.”
It takes her a moment to figure out I’m not continuing our fight.
Then she asks, “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Trent Morrison,” I say and drop to the couch to put my shoes on.
“Trent?” she says with a roll of her eyes. “He was never my boyfriend. And what do you mean he’s dropping by?”
“We’ve got guys outside, driving around. Remember?”
“Yeah, but… Dammit, can you get rid of him?” she asks me with a small sigh.
“Yup.” I stand and point at Fluffers. “Pack what you need and get your cat. We gotta move.”
She shakes her head and crosses her arms over her chest. “No. You can go and take Trent with you.”
“Not happening, babe,” I say then look over at Mitzy. “Time to go home, girlie.”
Still laying on the old recliner, Mitzy’s head pops up. She looks from me to Sophia then puts her head back down.
“Don’t even start acting like you’re going to stay, missy,” I growl at my princess before devoting all of my attention to Sophia again. “We need to move, now. If Trent is coming, whatever shit he’s got going on is going to follow in his wake.”
“What does that even mean?” she asks in a huff.
We’re wasting precious time but I look at her evenly. “It means Trent and TO Dickers are dirty as fuck and I don’t trust them.”
Narrowing her eyes at me, she growls, “How do you even know that? Trent’s just some glory hunting cop, he’s not dirty.”
“Bullshit,” I spit out then march my ass past her, heading for her bedroom.
“Where the hell are you going?” she demands, following after me.
“If you’re not going to pack for yourself, I will,” I explain and can’t help but smirk. “I’ll make sure to only pack your thongs.”
Screeching out at me in wordless anger, she races past me, but stops short when a loud pounding on the door breaks through our little slice of hell.
“Fuck,” she groans. “Is that really him?”
“Yeah, I guess online shopping and movers will have to do.”
Turning back around, I make a quick stop at the bag in the living room to pick up my Glock.
No sense in dealing with this shit unarmed.
“What are you doing?” Sophia hisses at me.
“Making sure you’re safe and he doesn’t get any stupid ideas,” I say calmly as I shove the gun into the back of my pants and head to the front of the house.
Yanking the door open mid-pound, I see surprise register on Trent’s face.
Neither of us say anything for a full minute.
I know Sophia is somewhere behind me, to my left, and that’s good for two reasons. He can’t see her and she won’t be in the way if I have to shoot him with my right hand.
“What the fuck are you doing here?!” Trent finally bellows at me and reaches for the gun on his hip.
The fucking dickface isn’t in uniform though, and I don’t see any other identifying items stating he’s police. Now that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s not on duty, but it’s enough for me to assume he won’t just shoot me.
Well… at least I don’t think he will.
I gotta give Trent credit for whipping his gun out as fast as he does. I wouldn’t have been able to get mine from the back of my pants as quick.
But I don’t need it right now.
Not with the ways his hands are shaking.
The stupid fuck also has his safety on.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I lean against the doorframe and smile at him. “Howdy.”
Aiming the gun at the middle of my forehead, he yells, “Where’s Sophia?!”
“She’s inside. Cleaning up after…” I trail off and smirk, letting him think what he wants to think.
Now I’ve seen people turn some ugly ass red colors before, especially when they’re being tortured or something. But this guy’s as red as anyone I’ve ever seen. Like a tomato that’s too ripe.
And I bet his head is going to explode any second.
“Get down on the ground now, asshole,” he snarls at me.
“Nah,” I say and uncross my arms.
Marching up to me, he puts the barrel of the gun right up against my forehead. “On the ground now!”
I’m sure he’s done this before with a uniform on, and the person probably dropped quickly to their knees.
But that shit ain’t happening here.
“Oh my god!” Sophia screams as she steps around me. “Trent, what the hell are you doing?!”
“Stay out of this, Sophia, dammit!” Trent yells right back while stupidly taking his eyes off his target.
Moving my hand up, I grab his wrist and yank down and forward. Then I pull it under my armpit and slam my other hand under his elbow.
There’s a nasty loud popping noise quickly followed by a gut-wrenching screech of pain.
Trent drops to the ground, clutching his now broken elbow.
Stupid fucker never identified himself as a cop, was on private property, and had a deadly weapon pointed at my head. Not a damn prosecutor in the state would try to charge me. Especially since we own just about every single one of them.