Merry with a Lawman (Love Beach, Holiday Collection)

6. Merry F-ing Christmas to Me

SIX

MERRY F-ING CHRISTMAS TO ME

DAVIS

Sitting in my patrol car behind the lookout curve on the cliffs above the ocean is a good hiding place. Especially when I need to get away from the station or get bored or just want to grab a sandwich and not be bothered by anyone. Right now, it’s the quiet before the storm.

This weekend is the annual Merry Festival of Lights at Love Beach, where the town Christmas tree gets lit in the square, the holiday marketplace pops up, and then the boat parade of lights begins, each boat decorated for crowds to admire as they pass by along the shore.

Me and my fellow officers are spending all week preparing. It’s one of those events that draws in locals, plus people throughout the county and nearby Charleston and Columbia. We’ll be busy mostly running a traffic check point trying to catch people for driving while under the influence or lacking insurance and proper licenses. We’ll meet our quota of tickets for the month in one forty-eight hour period.

I usually relish the calm before big events. This year it’s a little eerie. I can’t exactly pinpoint why, but I chalk it up to the blank space I can never get back where I don’t recall things from the night of my accident.

It’s like a fog at times, constantly thick and hovering over events of that night. Once in a great while, the fog lightens just enough to give me a glimpse, but not enough to make sense of it.

The bits and pieces are like a puzzle, driving me slowly insane, because none of it fits. I see Mom’s car, without a doubt. I’ve been able to make out the vehicle as the one that barreled toward me at a high speed. But I never see the driver.

I had literally cut Mom out of my life, leaving Addie to deal with our alcoholic parent. I hadn’t talked to her in some time. So why did she show up that night? What set her off to go to that extreme?

Sure, she made a lousy drunk, and always hated me for her husband landing in prison, like it was my fault the douchebag beat me up long ago. But hate me so much to run me over? She may have been a shit mother, but even this doesn’t seem like something she’d do. She confessed to the crime, though, no denying the facts there.

Addie’s ex-husband, the shithead Senator Chadwick Duvall, III, who I should never have let her marry in the first place, stunned us all, hiring a lawyer for Mom and exiting the interrogation room with her confession in hand.

I’m told he preened like a peacock, walking out of that room, holding Mom’s statement high in the air like an award for solving the mystery of who ran me over.

I squeeze the bridge of my nose. A few nights ago, the fog lifted again, just as I was drifting off to sleep. I saw Gigi. Why would she be involved? I mean, we’re friends, other than her nagging me for details about local robberies or hoodlums for the Buzz. She’s mentioned before that I’d reached out to her earlier that night of the accident, asking her to meet me because I needed to tell her something. Neither of us know what it was.

I sigh and try to set it all aside while I finish my sandwich, a late afternoon bite. No one will see me hidden here, so I could even work in a power nap. Long ago at a party one night, Belle showed me this place, a lovers’ point.

What is she doing right now?

Dammit, I need to stop thinking of her. The sooner she marries someone else, the better. Then she’d be taken and I won’t take another man’s woman. But I’ll be damn sure to thoroughly investigate the guy on Belle’s behalf, making sure he’s deserving of her.

I realize I’m grinding my teeth like the thought of her with another man grates on me. It… It doesn’t. She and I are just friends who took things too far. And it was good while it lasted.

I turn on some soft music to help drown out the noise in my head and am about to drop off into a little snooze, my eyes getting heavy, when a car speeds by. Something pricey and red, like a fancy sports car. Don’t get those much here in the winter. The people who can afford the mansions up on these cliffs typically vacation elsewhere.

Adrenaline pumps through my veins now; so much for napping. I put on my lights and pull out onto the road. A few minutes later, I chase them down, slowing to park on the shoulder behind them.

I approach, and something about this situation gives me bad vibes. “Sir, do you realize how fast you were going on this winding road?”

“Uh, sorry, officer. It’s my fault. Completely.” Dressed in black pants with a slick crease down the front of each leg, he fits the picture of a rich prick. A crisp gray starched shirt and red silk tie appear ironed, too. His black suit jacket drapes over the headrest behind him. Probably a suit that costs more than my first-responder pay in a month. “But you see, I have a beautiful woman in my car, and I guess I was trying to impress her.”

I dip my head low enough to find a pair of bare legs peeking from under a black miniskirt in the passenger seat. I can’t see the rest of her, but nice knees. A light smattering of freckles dust across them. Funny, Belle has those too. How many times have I licked each one? Plenty.

Fuck, when will I stop thinking about her? I give my head a slight shake, honing in on this jerk as he chuckles. He must have caught me staring.

“Is this funny to you?” I bark. “Because I don’t take safety on the roads in my town lightly. I especially can’t stand people who think the rules don’t apply to them.”

“Sorry, officer. I just moved here. Still learning the speed limits.”

Perfect. My evening is ruined now, and so might be the town with this guy thinking he can move in and own it.

“Then perhaps you should slow down and learn your way around here. This road is a forty mile per hour drive. I clocked you doing seventy.”

“Whoa.” The guy lifts his hands like he’s being held up. “I am so sorry, officer. I’ll definitely pay attention from now on. Thanks.” He moves to start up the car back up.

“Not so fast. License and registration,” I command.

“Uh. I thought you were letting me off with a warning, since I’m new to town.”

“License and registration.” My jaw goes tight. He leans over to reach into his glove box, and I monitor his every move, hoping he’s not an asshole with a gun.

“Davis, stop. Let Richardson go.” Who the hell is that voice… Belle?

I lean down enough this time to get a good look at the woman next to him.

She looks like a million bucks and fits right in here in this fancy vehicle.

My jaw snaps closed, tense, twitching. I straighten and snatch the documents out of this jerk’s hand.

I don’t take a breath in until I’m back in my patrol car, only then do I let it all out. I go through the motions of punching in his information in my dashboard computer.

Richardson Malone. New York City? If he just moved here, then he hasn’t made an address change yet.

What the fuck is Belle doing with him? Why does he need to impress her with his slick driving skills in a fancy, flashy car?

She’s moved on. That’s why. Which…is what I wanted, wasn’t it?

Merry fucking Christmas to me, I guess.

I return to his car, practically tossing the documents back into his lap.

“Get your address updated as soon as possible down at the DMV.”

“Yes, sir. Will do.” The guy’s voice has altered, with a steely edge. I imagine Belle informed him who I am. “Are you giving me a ticket?”

“Not this time.” But I have his information and will run a fully detailed background check on him. “Where are you two headed?”

“We have dinner reservations at The Cliffs,” he says. She shifts her legs in her seat like this situation makes her nervous.

As the fanciest restaurant here, patrons can expect to pay one hundred per plate. The Yacht Club likes to think it’s the best place to eat for gourmet cuisine in Love Beach, but the classic dinner club, The Cliffs, with its view of the bay below and the Atlantic ocean beyond are incomparable.

It’s the kind of place you take a woman you want to spoil and impress. Belle enjoyed going there, and our group of friends would patron it now and then, for some special occasion. It never was my scene.

I guess she found herself a man willing to go the distance with her.

“Don’t let me catch you speeding again, hear me?” My voice resisters, rough and aggressive, ready to bite his head off. But he’s a polite asshole.

“Yes, sir.”

I pivot, not saying another word to either of them. My mind goes numb. It stays that way until long after my shift is over. I know the service at The Cliffs to be slow, so of course, I sit in the shadows on her street and wait. Just to make sure she gets home safely. That’s what I tell myself, anyway.

When I see lights pull into her driveway, and watch her walk into her house, alone, I breathe a sigh of relief.

She’s not staying overnight with him.

Not that it should matter.

It doesn’t.

Not exactly.

When I get home, I quickly tell Jackson all about it, then head out to our makeshift gym in the garage. I need to put some gloves on and hit the bag and pretend it’s Richardson’s face.

Jackson comes up behind me after I’ve worked up a good sweat, and slaps me on the back, happy as could be.

“She did you a favor, man. She’s out of your hair, so guess what? Now you can play the field. Let’s go out to the Sandy Sipper for wing night.”

I know he’s right. I’m free. With all my power, I sock the bag one last time, releasing all my frustration, then I collapse to my ass on the ground. After removing my gloves, he tosses me a water bottle.

“Are you okay?” He checks in.

I nod. I will be. Someday. If I can ever get Belle out of my head.