Commanding the Curvy Girl (Spoon Heroes)

Chapter Five

Molly

" H ey."

I stop beside my car, glancing up when I hear Easton's voice. He pulls up alongside me in his SUV, smiling.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, my heart doing a flip in my chest. It's been another long night. But unlike every other night this week, we didn't see each other all shift. He was busy helping the fire department work a fire. Someone set a house on fire right outside of town. Easton and Dillon have been running around all night, trying to keep Emmett, the arson investigator, from losing his mind. Apparently, he has a thing for the girl they had to rescue from the fire. I know he has to be exhausted because I am, and all I did was work the scene from dispatch.

"Came to see you," he murmurs, his gray eyes locked on my face. "Missed that smart mouth and those pretty eyes last night, princess."

I blush, hiding my face behind my hair. "We talked on the radio all night," I remind him. But the truth is…I missed him too.

"It's not the same, Molly," he rumbles, reaching through his window to touch my cheek. As soon as he does, my stomach trembles. "You know it isn't."

He's right. It isn't. It didn't feel the same without him in dispatch, saying dirty things to me, kissing me, talking to me. I've gotten used to him stopping by every night. I'm not entirely sure I'm ready to go back to day shift yet. When I do, we won't be on every shift together anymore. There will be a lot more days like this—where we don't see each other every night. I'm not looking forward to it. But we only have one more shift together before we're back to our regular schedule.

"It wasn't the same," I whisper, my heat feeling like it's going to beat out of my chest with the admission. But when he smiles at me like I just gave him the moon…it's worth it.

"Go out with me this weekend," he says.

"Easton…"

"Please, princess. Don't make me beg. You know I'm shameless enough to do it." He cocks a brow. "I'll do it over the damn radio tonight if that's what it takes."

My eyes fly open wide. "You wouldn't."

He smirks, a challenge glinting in his eyes. "You sure about that, baby?"

Crap. What am I saying? He absolutely would. I'm not sure there's anything he wouldn't do when it comes to me. That's how badly he wants this—wants me. So why the hell am I still fighting it? Oh, right. Because I'm an idiot, that's why.

"Fine, I'll go," I say, swallowing the pit of anxiety in my stomach. "But only because you're forcing me to do it, Easton."

His thumb slips between my lips, making my core clench. "Fucking liar," he growls, his eyes practically smolder as my teeth rake the pad of his thumb. "But since we're in public and I can't slip my hand in your panties and make you lick up the proof of how badly you want to go out with me, I'll let you keep telling yourself that."

"Easton," I groan, heat blasting through me.

He chuckles, leaning halfway out of his patrol unit to brush his lips across my forehead. "Go get some sleep, princess. I know damn well you've still got another ten hours of torture to plan for me."

"Only ten? We work a twelve tonight."

"I'm fucking aware, baby." He narrows his eyes at me. "But even God got one day of rest. At least give me two goddamn hours to eat and bring you coffee."

My lips twitch. "We'll see."

***

"What the heck?" I mutter, stopping short just outside my front door when I notice it standing partially open half an hour later. I blink bleary eyes, thinking maybe they're playing tricks on me…but they aren't. The door is open.

I know I locked it when I left last night. I grew up in Houston. I always lock my door. I take a step closer, and my gaze lands on the crack in the door frame. My heart jolts against my ribcage.

Someone broke in.

Holy crap.

What if they're still inside?

I no more think it and something thuds from inside.

I practically race back to my car, not willing to stick around when they may have a weapon, and I don't. The keys shake in my hand as I frantically jab the button on the fob. The stupid battery is low, so it takes six times before the door finally unlocks.

I throw myself inside, flinging my stuff into the passenger seat. I back out of the driveway quickly, feeling oddly…calm. I'm scared, there's no denying that. But I don't feel panicked. I don't want to cry. I just want to get somewhere safe and get someone here, in that order.

The curtains in the living room shift and a face briefly appears. Blue eyes lock with mine before the curtains fall closed, hiding the man from view.

Jesus. He's still in my house.

"Call Easton," I demand, hitting the button on my steering wheel that makes the car dial for me. I don't know why I call him instead of dispatch. I just need to hear his voice right now. I need him right now. Whatever that means, I'll sort it out later.

"Miss me already, princess?" he practically purrs down the line.

"Someone is in my house," I say.

"What?" He sobers immediately. "Where are you? Are you safe, baby?"

"I'm in my car. I left as soon as I heard the noise. But I saw him at the window. White male, blue eyes, dark hair."

"I'm on my way," he says, his voice hard, lethal. His sirens start up, coming through the line. "Pull up at the end of the block and wait for me. Do not turn your car off. If you see him again, you drive off as fast as you can."

"I need to call dispatch," I whisper.

"Already on it, princess. Stay on the phone with me," he orders, his voice shaking. And it kills me a little to know he's afraid for me. He's so unshakable, so damn strong. But right now, he's scared.

"I won't hang up," I promise, speeding down the block. I drive to the very end and then flip a U-turn, pulling up on the side of the road facing down the block toward my house.

"Unit 232 to dispatch. 10-33 traffic," I hear him say, alerting dispatch that he has emergency traffic. A second later, he gives my address and explains the situation, his tone tense. "I'm en route. Code."

"Easton, it's Dillon," Dillon's voice crackles down the line as he responds to Easton over the radio. "Is that Molly's address?"

"10-4," Easton growls.

"I'm on the way."

I wrap my arms around myself, shivering.

"I'm on the way, baby," Easton promises me a second later. "Dillon is coming too. You okay?"

His voice is still shaking. Is he thinking about what happened to him? God, I hope not.

"Yes." I lick my lips, searching for something to say to keep him talking so he doesn't think about what happened to him last time he answered a call like this. "How do you know my address?"

"We'll discuss that later," he says. "Just keep an eye on the house and let me know if you see anyone, all right?"

"Okay. How far are you?"

"Two minutes."

No wonder callers always ask if we've sent anyone. Two minutes seems like a lifetime when you're waiting for help. I look all around, checking every shadow for the man.

"What do you want me to do if I see him?"

"Keep your pretty little ass in the car and drive," he growls. "Just give me a clothing description if you can get one. That's all I need from you right now, got it?"

"Got it."

I keep my eyes focused on the house. It's barely even six am. Shadow still cling to the block where the sun isn't even fully up yet, but it's light enough for me to see the front of the house at least.

"If he leaves through the back, I won't be able to see him."

"Doesn't matter. Just stay in the car. I'm almost there."

"It's a tan brick, third on the left. There are rosebushes out front."

"I know," he says, and I briefly wonder how he knows which house is mine, but quickly decide I probably don't want to know how he knows. "Which end of the street are you sitting on?"

"Blossom and Cider."

"Good. Stay there until I clear the house," he orders. "I'm turning onto Cider now."

A protest bubbles up in my throat, but I quickly silence it. As much as I don't want him to go in there alone, this is his job. I have to let him do it. That's why I called him, isn't it? Because this is his job?

No , a little voice whispers.

It's right, dammit.

I called him because…because he's the only person I wanted to comfort me. Because he's the only person who I knew would make me feel safe. He's under my skin, making himself at home in my veins, and I don't know how to get him out again now.

I'm not even sure I want to get him out again now. A month ago, I was absolutely certain I wanted nothing to do with him. Three days ago, I was committed to staying the path. Everything has changed since then. He's changing it—changing me.

And God help me, but I don't want him to stop.

"I'm pulling up now, princess." His takedown lights flash through the dark as he blows past me, his sirens no longer cutting through the air.

"Be safe," I whisper.

"Always," he promises.

I watch with my heart in my throat as he parks outside my house, hopping out with his gun drawn.

Please, let him be safe, I pray as he makes his way toward the front of the house, carefully checking his surroundings. Please.

Ten minutes later, my prayer is answered when he appears on the front lawn, motioning for me to come to him. I quickly put the car in drive, speeding toward him.

He meets me in the driveway, practically hauling me out of the car as soon as it's in park.

"Fuck," he growls, wrapping his arms around me. His lips brush the side of my throat as he inhales a deep breath. "My goddamn heart was in my ass the whole fucking way here, Molly."

"I'm sorry," I whisper, not even trying to pretend I'm not clinging to him. The whole time he was in the house, I didn't breathe. I was so damn scared something would happen and I'd never get a chance to tell him…everything. I've already wasted so much damn time, keeping him at arm's length, fighting him every step of the way. It seems so pointless and stupid now. He isn't my father. He's Easton—the man who comes running as soon as I call, even when it means facing his own fears. Even when it means fighting his own mind and his own memories.

He hooks his fingers under my chin, tipping my head back. "Do not ever apologize for calling me for help," he growls. "Don't ever apologize for needing me." His lips come down on mine in a hard kiss.

I whimper as he licks inside my mouth, kissing me senseless. He leaves me reeling as I cling to him, gasping for breath. And then he pulls back, resting his forehead against mine.

"Christ, I'm glad you called," he breathes.

"M-me too," I admit.

His smile is worth the anxiety that confession has churning away in my stomach. He brushes his lips against mine again and then pulls back as someone starts down the block.

I try to pull out of his arms, but he shoots me a dark warning look.

"Easton," I protest. "We work together. We need to at least try to keep this professional around our coworkers."

"Don't give a fuck about any of that. My life just flashed before my eyes. You aren't leaving my arms anytime soon, Molly."

I soften when I see the anxiety in his gaze. The bad memories linger in their depths. And yet, he came here without hesitation for me anyway.

God, I don't deserve this man.

I reach up, cupping his jaw. "I'm okay," I promise. "And so are you."

He jerks his chin in a nod, his jaw tight, and kisses my fingers.

Dillon pulls in behind my car.

I fight the urge to squirm as he hops out, striding toward us. He glances between us, a ghost of a smile on his lips, but he doesn't say a word about us. Instead, he looks at me. "You all right, Molly?"

"I'm okay. I'm not sure about my house, though."

Easton sighs. "He wrecked it, princess."

My stomach sinks. I had a feeling he was going to say that. Whoever the man was, he's been leaving every house he breaks into in shambles by the times he leaves.

"There hasn't even been an open house around here," I mutter, peering down the block.

Easton and Dillon exchange a look.

"What?"

"When did you put your house on the market, princess?"

I stare at him blankly.

"Your house was listed early this week," Dillon says. "The address came up in a list of houses for sale when we requested them from realtors in the area."

"Oh," I whisper. "Um, it's not mine. My landlord decided to sell when I told him that I was planning to move," I explain. "I didn't know he listed it already, though. I haven't been home…"

Easton and Dillon share another look.

"Will you two stop doing that!" I groan, glaring between them. "Go whisper over there if you need to discuss classified information or something."

Dillon cracks a smile. "It's not classified. We're just mildly concerned that our suspects MO has changed. Unless you got a really good look at him, him changing the script now is going to make catching him a helluva lot harder."

"Seems like it makes it easier to me," I mutter.

"How so?"

"Because you're assuming he was attending the open houses. But maybe he was just using them as cover," I say, explaining my thought process. "If he timed the break-ins to coincide with an open house, it looks like it's someone attending the open houses. Meaning, you guys have to look through everyone who was there, question them all, figure out if they could have possibly done it, and all of that. Meanwhile, he was never actually there to begin with. He just has access to the same information you do. Surely that list is shorter than the other."

"Well, damn." Easton scratches his chin, grinning at me.

"She may have just solved your case," Dillon says, cocking his head to the side. "You still sure you want to be in dispatch?"

"I don't want to be a deputy, Dillon. I like it right where I am."

"You asked her to be a deputy?"

"Only every goddamn week. She turns me down every time." Dillon smiles, letting me know he doesn't mind. "Chasing goats isn't what she wants to do with her life."

"Can we please focus on the issue at hand here?" I huff, unnerved by the way they're both looking at me. "Someone broke into my house. Go dust for prints or something so I can actually get some sleep before I have to be back to work tonight."

Easton and Dillon exchange another one of those infuriating looks.

"What now?" I groan.

"You aren't staying here, princess."

I blink at him. "Um, yes, I am. Until I buy a house, or the landlord sells this one, I live here."

"No, you aren't."

I stare at Easton like he's grown two heads.

"You've lost your mind," I mumble, turning on my heel and marching toward the front door. No way does he get to tell me that I have to leave my house because he thinks he's the boss of me. I bet he didn't tell any of the other victims that. Nope. Just me.

He grabs my arm, spinning me back around to face him. "Molly, dammit, I'm serious," he growls. "You aren't staying here."

"Unless you told every other victim the same thing, yes, I am," I growl, glaring at him. "You don't get to change the rules just because you…"

"Because I what?" he says, his voice dangerously low. "Go ahead and say it, princess."

"Because you want to sleep with me."

"You think that's what this is about?"

"Isn't it?" I challenge. "How many other victims did you guys kick out of their houses, Easton?"

"We aren't kicking you out."

"So I can stay."

"No," he growls, his gray eyes flashing. "Hell no."

"So I am kicked out."

"Dillon, you want to help me out here?" Easton growls at our boss.

"Nope," Dillon says, grinning between us like he's enjoying the show. He slaps Easton on the back. "You're a big boy. You can talk yourself out of this shit all by your damn self."

"Coward," Easton mutters, making Dillon laugh as he strolls back toward his SUV, leaving the two of us facing off in my driveway.

"Look, you want to protect me, I get it," I say, trying to be patient with him because I know this is hard for him. He may be infuriating, but he does actually care, and someone just broke into my house. He wants to jump in and save the day, make sure I'm safe. I can appreciate that. Part of me adores him for being that guy. "But I can't live in this world if I'm afraid of every little thing. How am I supposed to do my job if I run and hide whenever something happens? That's not realistic, Easton. I can't live in fear when my whole job is facing it so you guys can face it. And if I run and hide now, it makes it that much easier to panic or freeze when something serious happens."

"He was still in your house when you got home, princess," he says, his voice level. "You saw him. None of the other victims were asked to leave because none of them were close enough to see the suspect. You were. We can't guarantee he won't come back to ensure you can't identify him."

I pale at the thought. "I didn't…"

"So no, this isn't about the fact that I want to sleep with you," he says, cutting me off. "It's about the fact that you aren't safe here. I'm not going to let you put yourself at risk just to prove that you're a big girl, capable of taking care of yourself."

"I'm a jerk," I whisper, feeling about two inches tall. "A massive jerk."

"No, you're independent as hell," he corrects. "And I fucking love that you don't take any shit and know your own mind. But you aren't a cop, Molly. I am. It's my job to make sure you're safe. If I have to piss you off to do that, so be it. I'd rather you be pissed and alive than spend the rest of my goddamn life with a hole in my heart because you're stubborn and infuriating and don't know when to ask for help."

I don't know what to say to that. To any of it. He just…I think he just told me that he loves me? Crap. Is that what he's saying? That he's in love with me?

Can I really stand here and pretend that I don't feel the same way when, just half an hour ago, I was afraid something would happen to him, and I'd never see him again? No. No, I can't.

Whatever this is between us is vast. And terrifying. But if he can stand here and admit that he'd live the rest of his life with a hole in his heart if something happened to me, then maybe…well, maybe it's time for me to bend a little, too.

This isn't a game anymore.

It's starting to feel a whole lot more like forever.

"Help me, Easton," I whisper, feeling like I might vibrate apart at the seams as my defenses crumble at his feet and I do the only thing I can do. I let him in.

"Jesus," he rasps, dragging me into his arms. "You're damn right I'm going to help you. I'm not letting anything happen to you, princess. If you're determined to stay here, then I'll move in until we catch the motherfucker."

"I… Okay," I whisper.