Present Day

Chase

T he nightmare is always the same. In the dream, Liam's being strangled by Jacob Lambert, the drug dealer we're busting, and there's blood everywhere. So much fucking blood. Why was there so much blood? I don't know if it's my partner's blood or Jacob's, but I don't think about it too long. I was taught to react to a situation in the moment, and I can only think about my own reaction.

Like it's slow motion, I raise my weapon, yell something at Lambert to get the fuck off Liam, and move into the room. Jacob doesn't listen and keeps strangling Liam.

I fire my weapon. The shot lands where I placed it in Lambert's shoulder blade to get him to let go. Unfortunately, Lambert's hyped on his own product, so the bullet doesn't faze him. Liam goes still under him, and I panic, even as Lambert doesn't let go of Liam. Seeing my best friend stop fighting for his life and go still does things to me.

I fire a second shot into the back of Lambert's head. Blood sprays everywhere against the wall Lambert was facing and all over Liam.

As Lambert soundlessly slumps forward on top of my friend, I force my feet to move and check on Liam. Rolling Lambert's body to the side, Liam doesn't make a sound. There's no breath. Nothing. The silence in the room is deafening, the only sound in my ears is the ringing from the shots fired in a contained room.

It all happened exactly like that, except Liam doesn't survive in my dream. I did CPR and got him breathing again in real life, even if I'll never tell him I did it. He'll never get over knowing I did mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. He would probably give me shit about me finally getting to tongue him and having to wait to do it until he was half dead, and I don't want to listen to the bullshit.

It all worked out for him in reality, but the dream stays with me.

What would I have done if I had lost him that night?

Morning light seeps through my curtains, and I swing my legs off the bed, already pumped full of adrenaline the way I feel every time I have the nightmare. I look over on the other side of the bed and wonder if I was drunk enough last night to pick up a woman for some fun. If I picked up a good time, she's gone. There's no one in my bed and no rustling sound of a woman going through my kitchen cabinets in search of cereal or granola bars.

She wouldn't be the first that didn't stay for breakfast if she existed at all. I probably slept alone last night.

I get out of bed and pad to the bathroom. After taking a piss, brushing my teeth, and rolling deodorant on the important parts, I slip into my standard-issue work clothes and place the police badge on my belt. I comb my unruly hair into something presentable and flick the bathroom light off to search for coffee.

Today's an office day, which means mandatory counseling and meetings about firing my weapon and killing a suspect. I'd rather eat glass than go through any of it, but it's necessary. Liam also has to go through it when he gets back from medical leave. He's still healing from a few wounds and in physical therapy for a shoulder injury. Technically, we're cleared to work once his physical issue is fixed as long as we agree to attend counseling for a few months, but I don't want to take any new cases without him. It's been a rough few weeks with me being evaluated both physically and mentally to even make sure I'm ready to ride a desk or fill in where needed.

Thankfully, there's a temporary opening for a school resource officer that will keep me busy until Liam gets back, and I'm being briefed on it this afternoon, complete with a tour of the high school .

This will be great. Fine. Fantastic. I can simply show up to the school, talk to the kids and teachers, and make sure they're safe simply by being present in the building. It'll be a relaxing change of pace. I won't have to do stakeouts in the middle of the night or chart drug buys and do tons of paperwork.

Most people don't know that police work is mostly paperwork or simply watching cases build.

I'll go to work, come home, and maybe pop over to Liam's for a beer if he's not with Lorelei.

OK, I'll be drinking beer by myself. I couldn't pry him away from Lorelei now if I tried. They're glued to the hip, especially since Liam finally got his head out of his ass and told Lorelei he loves her.

I'm actually surprised they're not married yet.

I should go out, pick up a woman, and bring her home for a quick fuck. A one-night stand is exactly what I need.

Too bad I can't enjoy one-night stands anymore, and it has nothing to do with work.

I haven't enjoyed one since her .

Her name swims in my foggy pre-coffee brain. Kailee. Kailee Lipshitz. Lorelei's best friend. The one-night stand I wanted more time with. I wanted a two-night stand. Something about her makes me want a forever stand. She's the type of girl I've always wanted. She's beautiful, kept up with my stupid banter, and practically melted into me the night we were together. She obviously has a good friend in Lorelei, and if Lorelei vouches for her, I know she's a good person.

It's not just her name and face that swim in my mind. It's everything. I haven't been able to get the taste of her salty skin off my tongue since we fucked like rabbits in my kitchen weeks ago. Her touch. Her mouth on my cock in the middle of the night as she licked and cooed over my tattoo and swallowed every drop I gave her. The way her clit tasted like waffles when I lapped it like a maniac after she was done with me. The way she fucked me again in my bed in the wee hours of the morning.

I also can't stop thinking about the way she slipped out and must have taken an Uber home before I woke. That burns most of all.

***

"Here's the gym," the principal says, waving his hand at the polished wood floor and basketball hoops like they're prizes on The Price is Right . "You'll need to walk through every now and then during physical education classes just to be seen. It's a good time for the kids to come up and talk since they're just doing exercises or playing sports. The cafeteria is also a great place to wander during lunches. We want you to be seen and interact with the students. "

I nod and smile. I'm already looking forward to that aspect of the job. It'll be a welcome change to talk to students and teachers who aren't drug dealers. That's the only interaction I get at my normal job – drug dealers, the dealers' girlfriends, or other cops. Other cops are fine to talk about work, but they aren't always the best friend choices. Liam's a safe choice as a buddy, but cops have statistically higher rates of depression, alcoholism, and anxiety. The guys in my department aren't exactly golf buddies. We can be drinking buddies on a random Thursday, but it doesn't go deeper.

It even smells nicer in this building. Cleaner. The taxpayers fund a nice HVAC system, and everything is well-maintained by the janitorial staff. It certainly doesn't smell like suspect body odor or ceiling mildew. I won't be in a stuffy bullpen with other sweaty officers as they hide their pit stains seeping through their dress shirts while investigating criminals and drinking bad coffee.

There's even a nice self-serve coffee machine in the teacher's lounge I can use. No more vending coffee out of paper cups. They have a swivel carousel of coffee pods, and I spent ten minutes this morning debating between flavors like buttered rum and mocha marshmallow.

"Follow me, and I'll take you down to our electives section of the building," Principal Richter says, waving at me to follow him .

As he walks and prattles on about the staff bathroom and janitor closet, I take in the surroundings.

It's a modern school, just built in the last ten years. It's led by a younger principal who's more into aesthetics and maintaining a good appearance to make the students want to come to school. He probably got the job because of his doctorate in education and the ability to relate with younger students, not because he was the most tenured.

I'm a straight man, but I'd say Jeff Richter is a handsome guy. His hair is like mine – not brown, but not all the way blond either. His skin is tan like he just got back from a cruise, and he's runner lean. Although he's a couple inches shorter, his shoulders are as wide as mine. I should invite him out for drinks sometime. He may be a good wingman for pussy pickup now that Liam's taken. He can't be older than thirty-five, and it's weird to see a principal around my age. When I was a kid, they always seemed so old.

Then again, I was in the principal's office a lot. I'm sure my high school principal looked haggard because he was tired as fuck of seeing me in his office for doing stupid shit like getting blown in the janitor's closet.

"You have the electives separate from the main classes?" I ask, curious.

"Yeah, it's the classes that aren't standard. You know, math and science have their own department areas. This hallway contains classes like band, choir, and industrial tech. "

"Industrial tech?"

He waves his hand like he's annoyed. "It's shop. I don't know why they make it sound so fancy now."

He points further down the hall, mumbling something about child development classes where the students take home a mechanical baby with a chip in it that registers if the baby gets shaken to keep it from crying. I'm not listening, though. I'm too busy staring through a classroom window and watching a goddess stir something with a hand mixer.

The goddess's hair is up in a smooth ponytail with a curly swish at the end. She speaks to the student she's helping and smiles easily at them like she was born to teach. She's in black, fitted dress pants and a button-down shirt with a Peter Pan collar. She's not wearing much makeup since she's working with students, but her natural beauty and long lashes are stunning.

I step to the door and press my face to the glass so hard that if she looked over, she'd probably see my nose scrunched up like a pig's nose as I fog up the glass. My eyes are so wide I momentarily wonder if they'll pop out of my skull.

Jeff comes up behind me and stands on his tiptoes, looking over my shoulder. "Oh, yeah. The sub."

"Sub?" I ask, my heart pounding. My mouth is dry, and I squeak the word.

"She's filling in for our pastry and baking teacher who's out for knee surgery. Just started Monday. Personally, I don't think she knows shit, but well, subs are in short supply. "

"She knows the basics," I say, flexing my hands that the first thing the principal mentioned was something negative.

"How do you know?"

"She helps run a baking food truck."

"Do you know her?" he asks, and I turn to look at him, finally tearing my eyes away from Kailee. Something about his voice irritates me, and I know then that this guy is not my new wingman. "Because if you know her, I'd love a friendly, non-working introduction. We've only talked professional stuff."

I clear my throat, flexing my hands and shoving them in my pockets so I don't knock this dick into the wall. "Not that well," I say. Think, dumb ass. "Well, I know her well enough to know what she does for a living. My friend dates her boss."

Jeff smiles a leering smile toward the classroom window. What a fucking douche.

"I think she's a lesbian," I say a little louder than I should. A passing student on the way back from the bathroom stops and glances at us before widening their eyes, shaking their head, and moving on.

"Oh, that sucks," Jeff says.

I can't believe he's talking so unprofessionally about her. Sure, I want to go in there and push her over the counter like I did a few weeks ago and unbutton her professional, button-down shirt with my teeth, but I'm not going to act on it here .

"It sucks because I need to tell Leo," Richter whispers behind me.

"Leo?"

"The industrial tech teacher. We have a bet going on who can get her panties off first," he says, looking back through the window. Part of me wants to push his face through the glass.

I grit my teeth in anger and jealousy even as my heart pounds out of my chest with excitement to see her. I look back through the window, not really caring if she sees me. If that happens, I'll run to her like I'm running in slow-motion, my arms out. My dick practically knocks at my zipper. It's such a Pavlovian response. It's like my cock knows exactly what this woman is capable of.

Great. I just told her boss, albeit a temporary one, that she's a lesbian. There's nothing wrong with being a lesbian, but she's definitely into guys in some way if the way she rode my dick was any indication. I panicked.

"Hey, we could let you into the bet," Principal Dick Weasel mutters behind me.

I turn again and force a smile. The asshole practically pants with male bonding and the promise of a challenge. I'm stuck here for a few weeks, and I shouldn't piss off the guy who let me work here. I also don't need it getting back to my chief that I wasn't exactly a team player.

"Not my thing, but good luck," I say, hating myself as soon as the words leave my mouth. I shouldn't even wish these dickbags luck. I should say something – stick up for all women everywhere. I just stuff my hands in my pockets and stare at him. It's a police tactic to get people talking while I make them uncomfortable with silence.

"That's OK. I'll duke it out with Leo," he says with a chuckle. He slaps me on the back, and I turn back to stare at her again.

Too bad for these assholes I already won their stupid bet weeks ago when Kailee Lipshitz's panties were on my kitchen floor, and I'm not about to enter into something so juvenile with a guy wearing pleated pants. It wouldn't be fair to anyone.