“You’re telling me that we have three cruisers sitting out in front of a strip club?” Nathan chuckled. “People are going to wonder why we’re here. The cruisers are too flashy.”
That they were.
A local wrapping business that put new decals on cars had redone the six cruisers that the SWAT team used when we were on shift. The entire back half was wrapped in an American flag. The front half was wrapped in a Texas flag.
And the middle sported a black wrap with a thin blue line bisecting the middle of the car and flowing into the blue stripe of the American flag.
It was cool as fuck, but a lot of people noticed it. And took pictures with it.
“We responded to an emergency.” I shrugged. “I’m sure they got plenty of calls to back that up.”
“We’re gonna hear from Foster or Bennett in the morning. What do you want to bet?” Malachi took a sip of his water.
At least we weren’t drinking.
There was one small favor we were doing the Kilgore Police Department.
We weren’t drinking in our uniforms with our cruisers parked out in front of a strip club.
“Maybe,” I admitted, watching as Amelia absently snuck her hand underneath her shirt and started to scratch her belly.
It was an innocent move, showing off just a hint of skin, but that hint of skin was enough to send the blood in my veins up in flames.
“You really have it bad, don’t you?” Malachi asked.
I licked my lips and looked away from my girl to Malachi.
He was grinning at me.
“What?” I asked.
“You have it bad,” he repeated. “I’ve been telling you a story about work today for going on a minute and a half, and you haven’t once said a word.”
I shrugged. “What was it?”
“I said that I gave your sister a ticket,” he repeated.
My brows raised. “You did?”
He nodded.
“Well, kind of. I gave her a shit ton of warnings. One, she didn’t have her car inspected. Two, she was speeding like a bat out of hell. Three, she was riding on tires that needed changed two months ago. Four, she was passing people in a no-passing zone.”
I groaned. “Of course.”
I pulled my phone out and texted my dad, mom, and Catori in our group text.
Me: What’s this bullshit I hear about you getting pulled over today? And why are you riding around on bald tires?
Dad: What’s this? You said you got them changed!
Mom: Catori, what the fuck?
Catori: Fuck you, Adam.
Me: Dinner tomorrow at 12, right?
Catori: I’m going to use small words. If we were eating at five p.m. or later, that would be considered dinner. We’re eating at 12. That’s considered lunch. Dumbass.
Dad: Who fucking cares? Do you two ever stop fighting?
Mom: No.
Catori: He started it.
Me: you were the one to speed through town recklessly, get handed twelve warnings, and then expect me not to find out. I’m a police officer, Catori. People are going to tell me when you’re acting like a moron.
Catori: So, are you bringing this girl I keep hearing about to dinner? Can’t wait to meet her.
I grinned and shoved my phone back in my pocket.
“That’ll take care of that,” I said. “Dad wanted to change the tires on her car weeks ago, but she said that she’d already gotten it done. Which, in Catori speak, means that she was going to get it done but she lost track of time, and she didn’t want our dad to know that she didn’t get it done, so she lied.”
“Your dad gonna get them fixed?” Malachi asked.
“Should.” I nodded. “I’ll check it out tomorrow, though. We have a family dinner. Amelia’s gonna meet Catori for the first time as my girl.”
“That a good thing or a bad thing?” Nathan wondered.
I wasn’t really quite sure yet. The reason I hadn’t invited Catori around to anything that we’d done was because she was… different. Not in a bad way. But in a way that she loved fiercely and completely. And she wasn’t always quick to warm up to my girlfriends in the past.
That, and Amelia was different. She wasn’t a pushover. She wasn’t mean, but she wouldn’t take any shit that Catori shoveled her way. Which would seriously impress Catori. After Catori was finished giving her shit, that was.
“Catori will love her, of that I have no doubt.” I paused. “Hey, didn’t your dad transition over to the FBI? Is he still in Uncertain?”
Nathan nodded. “Yeah, why?”
I gestured toward Amelia, who was now readjusting her bra.
I inwardly groaned.
Outwardly I said, “She has a meeting with someone from that office tomorrow evening. She wants to work with crimes against children.”
Nathan winced. “Tough job.”
I jerked my head Amelia’s way. “Tough woman.”
Nathan grunted. “I think you’re in trouble, Stoker.”
“Amen,” Sammy said. “They’re all dropping like fucking flies. No fucking thank you.”
My lips twitched. “You’ll find your girl, Spurlock. When you least expect it.”
Sammy rolled his eyes. “Maybe, maybe not. But I’m not really looking for a girl to settle down with quite yet. I’m enjoying all these ‘Mr. September’s’ that I’m getting.”
I snorted. “That makes one of us. That girl that wanted me to sign her tit earlier? I thought this was going to get better, but all it’s done is gotten worse. I think as the months pass, they’re able to easily forget about Mr. January and Mr. February. But since we’re all at the end of the year, we’ve had attention all year long. It’s getting tiresome. Last week I pulled some old chick over that was speeding like a motherfucker. She asked if she showed me her tits, if she could get off with just a warning. When I told her she couldn’t, she acted all offended that I wouldn’t take it since I ‘sold myself’ in much the same way with the calendar.”
Malachi choked on his beer. “Does this happen to be a gray-haired old lady that has bright, intense hazel/ green eyes? Drives a Buick LeSabre and has spinners on it?”
Malachi looked over at me with bright hazel eyes and I tilted my head slightly to stare at him. “Is this your grandmother?”
Malachi winced slightly. “She told me about an asshole cop giving her a ticket.” He paused. “There was no mention of her speeding on her end. Or… what she tried to get you to do.”
I snickered.
“She’s honestly a really sweet old lady,” Malachi promised. “She’s just… bored. With my parents living in Florida, she doesn’t have much to do during the day.”
“I’ll see if I can drop the ticket,” I offered.
Malachi shrugged. “Give it to her. It’ll give her something to do. Defensive driving at the Back Porch will get her out of the house. She’ll get to see faces. Interact. And, of course, she’s going to want to fight the ticket. So, just FYI.”