33. Kali

CHAPTER 33

Kali

“Woman, it’s not a difficult question.”

It is. It’s like a multiple-choice question where the answer is all of the above. Settling on a single restaurant is impossible when everything sounds appetizing.

Today marks six months. It’s been half a year since I thought I was going to take my last breath in a coffin. Paxton insists it calls for a celebration, a recognition of my strength and perseverance.

Unfortunately, like my investigation, the sighting of the man ended at a dead end. I’m at the point where I’m doubting the Texas Rangers. We live in a digital society. How has one camera not gotten his picture? Martinez said the guy knows what he’s doing. He’s precise in everything he’s done, leaving no traceable evidence behind. They found the guy who put the note on my car through a chain of five others, each paid one hundred dollars to pass an envelope to another guy, which when opened was a hundred-dollar bill and another envelope with instructions to pass on. Then the final guy’s note was to leave the envelope on my car. The first guy claimed he received it at an outdoor farmer’s market, a place where there weren’t any cameras. His description of the person was vague—middle-aged with a baseball hat on. That leaves half this freaking county as a suspect.

“I have to run to my apartment real fast first.”

“Hold on, I’ll go with you.”

“Pax, it’s five doors down. Finish your report, and I’ll be right back.”

After staying at Paxton’s house for a couple weeks, we started to get close again. It’s not that I didn’t want that—I do, more than anything . But with everything that has happened, I need to have our relationship grow organically. I couldn’t bear the thought that he might be doing it out of obligation just because I was staying with him.

So, I found a place.

I didn’t go far. As a compromise, I moved into an apartment right down the hallway from Paxton. I gave up my apartment with Zoe because I didn’t want to put her in danger. She understood and was probably relieved. Truthfully, I feel more at ease knowing Paxton and Riggs are close by.

And moving out is exactly what our relationship needed to progress. We found our way back to each other, but this time, it’s stronger. The connection between us deepened, bonding us on an entirely new level. I love this man, and he loves me, even though he’s yet to say it.

“Where’s Stan?” he asks.

I stare at him incredulously. “I do not need someone to walk me twenty feet. I gave him the night off since I knew we were going to dinner.” I hired a bodyguard for when I wasn’t with Paxton. It’s weird having someone tail you. On the third day, I almost panicked, ready to call Martinez about the suspicious guy following me. Paxton and I got a laugh out of it. “I’ll be right back. If I don’t get back in five minutes, send a search team.”

“That’s not even funny,” he says, his tone serious.

I walk over to the kitchen table where he’s set up his computer. Leaning against the arms of the chair, I give him a chaste kiss. “Thank you for worrying about me. But seriously, I need you to dial it back.”

It’s been a month since he found me, and I’m trying to find the sweet spot between terror and moving on that will allow me to live. His overwhelming need to keep me safe isn’t helping.

He sighs, running his hand through his hair. “Sorry. I just…”

I need to remind myself that he’s doing it because he cares deeply for me. It’s sweet, even though it’s overbearing at times. “I’ll take Riggs with me.”

His smile grows and he immediately commands Riggs to stay with me. He winks. “Thank you.”

Not three minutes later, we’re walking back into the apartment.

“I got it!” I exclaim and snap my fingers. Paxton turns from his chair with a lifted brow. “Matt’s El Rancho. Sitting on the patio with their famous Mexican martini.” I hum, just the thought of the drink makes my mouth water. I glance outside the back door. The low-hanging clouds in the distance will create the perfect backdrop for a colorful Texas sunset. Amy introduced me to this place on one of our girls’ shopping outings. It was delicious. I can’t believe I forgot about it.

“We can’t go there,” he counters.

“Why?”

“Just kidding.” He smirks, pushing off the couch. I shoot him a playful glare. “I mean, we might run into an ex-girlfriend there. So, I’m warning you now. That was her favorite restaurant.”

Ex-girlfriend? He never talks about his exes. “Now I really want to go.”

He rolls his eyes. “Only you would want to see my ex.”

I wrinkle my nose. He doesn’t understand that I want to know everything about him.

Riggs gives a dissatisfied huff when Paxton tells him he has to stay home, and he drops on his bed, pouting.

“Are you sure he has to stay here?” I ask, feeling sorry for the furry guy. Riggs’s ears perk up. I’d bet the restaurant allows dogs on the patio.

Paxton wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me to his chest. “Nope. You’re all mine tonight. He’s the worst third wheel ever. Takes all your attention.”

“Not all my attention,” I whisper, running my hand up his white button-down shirt. “Last night, I remember my attention was entirely focused on making you come in my mouth.”

He groans as he leans down and pulls my bottom lip into his mouth, biting it and then sucking the pain away. “Dinner can wait. I think I need some more attention,” he murmurs against my lips. He walks me backward down the hallway until we hit the bedroom and then kicks the door shut behind him. He spins me around until my back is pressed against the wall.

“Tell me you’ll never leave me,” he whispers, kissing my shoulder and sliding his hand up my skirt.

I fist his hair and pull in a quick breath when his finger pushes aside my panties and slips inside me. It’s hard to think about anything other than what his fingers are doing. Ever since we got back together, Paxton’s insecurities creep up now and then, no matter how many times I promise him I’m his. My moans grow louder and louder as he alternates flicking my swollen clit and sliding two fingers inside me. The heat builds but right before I explode, he stops, the weight of his body pressed against mine, and he pins me with his eyes.

“Tell me.”

I groan in frustration. “Don’t stop,” I whisper, trying to move my hips, desperate for the release.

His lips quirk up on one side. “That’s not what I want to hear.”

I chuckle. “I hate you.”

“As long as you don’t leave me, I’m fine with that.”

He pulses his fingers against my G-spot, and my eyes roll back in my head at the delicious pleasure. I hum and moan at the same time.

“I’m yours,” I say, heat spiraling down my spine as his fingers move quicker inside me. “Forever.” My orgasm rips through me, leaving my legs wobbly and my breath quick and shallow.

I drop to my knees, undoing the buckle of his belt. “My turn,” I say, gazing up at him.

It’s not until I have his cock out in my hand that he lifts me up and spins me around. His hands caress my arms until our fingers intertwine. “No. I need to be inside you.” He drags our hands against the wall until they’re above our heads. “Keep them here,” he whispers into my ear and then nibbles it as his hands move down to remove my skirt and panties. They fall to the floor, and I kick them back. “That’s it. Spread those long legs for me.” His fingers press into my inner thighs until my legs spread wide.

His dick springs loose against my back. He guides it down between my cheeks, and when it hits my center, I arch my back, begging for it. He hisses into my ear as he snakes his arm around to my boobs, pinching and pulling as I suck in a breath. I press my hands against the wall, wishing I had something to hold on to.

He pushes inside me, and I scream out his name as he thrusts in and out. Hard and fast. Possessive. One of his hands covers both of mine, our fingers intermingling. His other hand moves to my clit and circles it. I push back into him, making him go deeper and deeper until my body trembles, stars float in my vision, and I’m pulled under by my orgasm ripping through me, his moans and cursing follow.

“Fucking…mine,” he roars, chasing his release. He buries his face into my hair. His heart pounds fast and heavy against my back, and we don’t move until we find our breath again. He pushes my hair to the side and kisses down my shoulder. He pulls out and spins me around, his intense eyes pinning me in place. “I love you, Kalico.”

My heart swells as everything falls into place. We belong together. “I love you, Paxton.”

“Officer Turner,” the blond hostess bellows, her glossy pink lips almost touching her heavily eye-shadowed eyes as soon as we walk through the front door. She looks at me for a brief second with a confused expression before turning her attention back to him. How long ago was he here with his ex? “Does Jose know you’re coming in?” she asks.

“He doesn’t. Last-minute dinner plans,” he replies.

“Let me go find him. He’ll love to see you.”

“You don’t have to…” His words trail off as she darts away. “Do that.”

I stare at him, wondering why he looks uncomfortable. Is this about to get awkward? Is Jose his ex-girlfriend’s dad? After a quick sigh, he explains, “Last year, when I was having dinner here, a disgruntled employee came in swinging a gun around and threatened to shoot the owner. I neutralized the threat before he could do anything.”

Is that when she became his ex?

“Did you have to shoot him?” I whisper, not able to imagine sitting in a restaurant, having a nice dinner, then having to jump up and stop a shooter. Is this one reason he asked if I could handle him being a police officer? I can see how that could scare off a potential partner. Even though I already told him I didn’t care that he was a police officer, it’s one thing to understand the risks in theory and another to have a front-row seat when he has to confront them head-on.

He shakes his head. “I talked him down, convinced him it wasn’t worth going to jail the rest of his life.” He reaches for my hand, searching my face for any apprehension. “It’s a lot when your dinner date might have to turn into…well, something out of an action movie.”

I squeeze his hand. “I already know that you’re a hero, so it doesn’t surprise me. If anything, it makes me feel safer with you, knowing you can handle these intense situations.”

“Paxton!” The voice cuts through the busy restaurant, deep and resonating. Everyone’s attention turns to him, then our way to see who he’s yelling at. I watch as a stocky man with a bushy mustache and bright, flushed red cheeks, wearing a well-worn apron rushes toward us. His arms are flung open wide in anticipation, and when he reaches Paxton, he pulls him in for a robust hug. Paxton pats him on the back a couple times.

“Jose, it’s great to see you.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me you were coming in. I would’ve saved the best table for you,” he says in a heavy Mexican accent, mixed in with the kind of warmth that feels like home. “It’s been far too long.” He shifts his attention to me, his smile extending its warmth my way. His smile is infectious, and I find myself returning it. “And who is this lovely lady?”

Paxton introduces me, and when he refers to me as his girlfriend, butterflies flutter in my stomach.

As we follow Jose through the bustling restaurant, it’s obvious he bumped us to the front of the waitlist. I understand why, but none of those people do. I push back the awkward feelings, instead taking in the vibrant colors and lively atmosphere. The chatter of diners, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional laughter create a symphony of sounds that make the place feel alive.

Jose leads us to a cozy table nestled in the corner where the lighting is softer and the noise muted. He pulls out a chair for me and then turns to Paxton with a conspiratorial wink. Paxton chuckles, shaking his head.

An apologetic smile plays on Paxton’s lips after he strolls away. “He’s a character.”

“I can see how much he adores you.”

Our server wanders up and places a bottle of Blue Moon in front of him, leaving me puzzled because we haven’t ordered yet. Then she looks at me and asks if I’d like something to drink. I order my Mexican martini. When she walks away, I shoot Paxton a quizzical look.

“Regular here?” I inquire.

He gives a vague nod, taking a pull from his beer. He wasn’t kidding when he said this was one of his ex’s favorite restaurants. I can tell he doesn’t want to talk about it. I don’t know why, but I have so many questions about her. How long were they together? What was she like? What does she look like? All questions I shouldn’t ask but want to. Thankfully, my drink arrives—a pleasant distraction to get my mind off his ex.

“Look at this email I received today.” I pull out my phone and search for the message. “It’s a producer interested in creating a documentary about me on Netflix. How one escapes six feet under, were his words.” I pass the phone to him.

He reads it and then looks up from the phone. “Be careful. Most of these are scams,” he remarks, echoing my initial thoughts, but I looked the guy up. He’s a legit producer who has done other docuseries. But it doesn’t matter how real he is, I don’t want to be in the spotlight.

“I know,” I reply, taking back my phone. “I wouldn’t do it anyway. Not with him still out there.”

Our conversation takes a pause when a server places a basket of chips in between us and two small bowls of salsa. I grab a chip and dip it before the guy can walk away. Yep, this was a damn good idea. We didn’t have a Tex-Mex restaurant in Blackburn, and I was cheated out of something my entire life.

“How was school today?”

“School,” I reply dryly, making him chuckle. “I didn’t know it was going to be this hard. I barely scraped by passing my math test. It makes me wonder if college is for me.”

“My motto was D is for degree,” he quips.

Now, it’s my turn to laugh.

“I hated school, so I feel you. But it’ll be worth it in the long run. At least that’s what my grams always told me.”

His affection for his grandmother warms my heart. When he told me he hates his mom and won’t talk about her, it raised some concerns. Who could hate their mom? I wish I had one more second with mine. But the love he shows for his grams settled those thoughts.

“Tell me about your ex,” I say, taking a chip.

He rolls his eyes. “Really?”

I laugh. “Yes. How long did y’all date?”

“You’re really not going to let this go, are you?” He’s the one who brought her up first. I shake my head, smiling. “We dated a few months. Eight, maybe. She couldn’t accept my life.” When I lift a brow, he adds, “Being with a K-9 police officer is a lot. There’s a lot of sacrifice. Time. We’re always on call. And then this happened…” He gestures with his hand, the restaurant.

That was the tipping point. I can’t say I don’t understand. I don’t agree with it. It’s part of who Paxton is, and I love that part.

Paxton’s phone rings on the table, and his chief’s name flashes on the screen. He offers a quick apology before answering. Whatever. Less talking for me means more time to munch on chips.

After a brief exchange, he replies, “No.” He listens, nodding. “How long has she been missing?”

My hand halts, a chip with salsa hanging in the air, as a shiver races across my skin. His words trigger a surge of panic through me. Paxton studies me as he talks, assessing me as if trying to gauge my reaction. Thoughts race through my mind, fragments of the conversation leaving me unsettled. Is his chief calling to tell him my monster kidnapped someone again? My appetite vanishes, and I drop the chip on the plate. I sit and wait. Questions and fear tighten around my throat as Paxton reaches across the table and squeezes my hand, as if reassuring me that everything is fine.

But is it?

After he hangs up, the first thing he says is, “People go missing all the time.”

“Then why did he call you on your day off?”

A momentary look of discomfort crosses his features. “They want Riggs and I to be ready if they need us.”

I rub my face, attempting to drown out the unease. Like he said, people go missing daily, and I can’t let my emotions hijack me every time I hear about one. “You don’t know her, do you?” The question slips out, regret flooding me.

His shoulders tense. But Martinez’s voice repeats in my head. There could be a connection, even if it’s not direct.

“Are you still having doubts about me?” He mutters curse words under his breath, his eyes darting around the room. “I thought we were past that?”

“We are. I’m not saying you did anything. But what if there is a connection? Somehow? You can’t deny that it’s a possibility considering how everything went down.”

“Well, you’ll be happy to learn I have no idea who she is.” His voice carries an edge, and while, yes, I’m relieved, I feel bad at the same time.

I toy with a crumb of a chip that’s fallen on the table, breaking it into tiny pieces with my nail. Our food comes, and I stare at the generous burrito, not hungry anymore. Between the inhaled chips and my talent for putting my foot in my mouth, I’m done.

“My boss had the same question.”

I pick my head up, understanding his brash tone.

“That’s one reason he called me. I think it just pisses me off that I’m being tossed into question because everyone thinks I have the answers. And I shouldn’t get this mad because you’re right, I would’ve asked the same question if I were in your shoes.”

“Can we take this to-go?” I ask, and he nods.

He might not be so in agreement with my next request.