4

The young host at the fancy restaurant hesitates upon our entrance. Noah is, after all, infamous, and I… the reporter who constantly attempts to put thugs and corrupt shit on the map. I expose the information everyone prefers to keep hidden, yet just as desperately, they seek it out due to fear of not knowing what is happening in their own town.

I recognize the boy, he's Jule's age. His family lives four trailers away from us. I know his family struggles; his mom is the sweetest. She often invites us over for dinner. I send a silent thank you to my parents. If they hadn't paid off the trailer and property in advance, my siblings and I would have been forced onto the streets.

After Noah explains why we're here, the kid finds us a booth in the farthest and darkest corner of the restaurant. The waitress mumbles the specials and takes our orders quickly, barely looking at us.

"I guess our nice clothes aren't as nice as we thought," Jas says while looking at her deep blue, knee-length, silky dress.

As usual, she wears her dark, tight curls down. Tonight, she's combed it all to one side, exposing a long silvery earring. Her chocolate complexion glows, and she looks so elegant but simple compared to the outrageous outfits on some of the women here.

My brother shifts uncomfortably and he stares down at the suit he wears. It belonged to my father, but Jule is already taller and beefier than he was.

Jule wiggles the tie up and down while pretending to not be able to breathe in it. "I don't understand why I couldn't wear a T-shirt with a jacket. I look like an idiot."

Noah laughs. "We all look great. Especially you, Justice." He winks at me and nestles me close before kissing my temple.

Jule rolls his eyes while he tugs at the wrist of the jacket. Jasmin gives us a weak smile and shifts in her seat. I know she's comfortable in her dress. Jasmin is one of the girliest girls I know. I suspect being here with Noah is what's making her uncomfortable.

I, on the other hand, feel noticeably uncomfortable in the tight, black, strapless dress. My mother's tube-like dress reaches just below my knees and it hugs my curves, leaving nothing to the imagination. My dark hair is pulled back in a side braid and then into a low bun close to my left ear. My mother's silver charm bracelet rolls up my wrist, tugging on the tiny arm hair, and I smile. Every time it does that, I pretend it's my mother pinching sense into me. She was wearing the bracelet the day she was killed. I put it on that night and never took it off.

I close my eyes and turn to breathe in Noah's scent. Underneath his black, military-style jacket, he's wearing a light blue, buttoned down, cotton blouse. He has his best black trousers and combat boots. I smile at the sound of his deep voice carrying on a conversation with my brother, evidently trying to ease him.

"Just take off the tie and unbutton the shirt. It's a modern thing." He signals discreetly to a few young men nearby, all tieless.

"Now you tell me?" Jule undoes the tie and tosses it to Jasmin, who folds it neatly into her clutch. He opens the first three buttons on his shirt and gives out an exaggerated sigh.

We stay silent when the quiet server comes back with our meal. Steam rises off our plates and we control the urge to not devour the food like starving animals. Noah pulls his arm away, and I frown when my body relaxes once his arms leave me, the suffocation replaced by a warm ease.

I concentrate on my food and carefully cut into my sirloin bavette steak. My fork digs into the lusciously plump mountain of mashed potatoes and then I pick up a tender green bean with my fingers and bite into it. A pleased moan escapes me and I know I'm smiling like an idiot.

We're all humming softly in delight until a deep, scratchy voice belonging to an older gentleman steals my attention. "Nikoletta Justice Fox?"

I turn slowly at the mention of my complete given name, food in my mouth and all. Everyone turns with me. I mean, who the hell knows my entire name? Besides, the only person who calls me by my first name is my brother.

Noah tenses and grows ten inches beside me. He's the first to speak for the table and we all sit up straight. "Well, if it isn't Officer Lloyd and his shiny new sidekick. What do you want with Justice?"

Two cops stand near our table, already attracting some unwanted attention from the rich fuckers surrounding us. One of the two is the rookie I snapped a picture of, and instead of his detective uniform, he embodies another tonight.

The rookie appears as though he just clocked in for his shift as a grim reaper. Black from head to toe, black jeans, a black t-shirt, and a leather jacket. Fuck, he looks good. I'd lay down and let him carry me to hell if he showed up to deliver my death.

He shaved. The rookie's hair is gone and in its place is a buzzed cut that makes his thick, dark brows stand out. His black eyes pierce me and my meal stays stuck somewhere in my food pipe. He frowns and his full lips part just a fraction, enough to make me squeeze my thighs together.

The older one, with what looks like a large pregnant beer gut, grinds his teeth. "It's Detective, and this doesn't concern you, Noah."

"Like hell it doesn't. What do you want with my girlfriend?"

Lloyd smirks and doesn't seem at all taken aback by Noah's declaration, but the rookie named Dylan furrows his brows further and leans in. Across from me, I see my brother sit straight up and square his shoulders.

"Aren't you too old for her, Noah? Besides, all we want is to ask the little lady some questions."

From my peripheral, I catch Noah's jaw tightening and he's about to speak, no doubt to correct the assumption of me being too young for him, when my brother blurts out, "Can't you wait until we're done eating? Have some respect."

Lloyd takes a nonchalant glance at a clipboard he has in hand and then stares at my brother. "You must be Julius Fox Junior. Defending your little sister, are we?"

Jule suddenly grins. "Sure am." He looks my way and winks. "What have you done now, little sister?"

Oh, for fuck's sake. By this time, I manage to swallow, reach for my glass of Coke, and chug some of it down. Dylan leans toward me. "We heard you held a Tec9 in hand. Care to explain what that was about?"

"Big gun for such a small girl," Lloyd adds.

I tense and look straight into Dylan's big, dark eyes. They truly are something–large and expressive with gray, almost silvery slivers on the inner area of the darkest brown I've ever seen. I planned on joining them outside and my intentions were to fully cooperate until he smiles at his partner's stupid joke and stands to stare me down with a superior look about him.

Jule points accusingly. "Who the fuck is this?"

"I'm Detective Montreal."

I face my empty plate and reach for my drink again. "I have nothing to say to either of you."

Officer Lloyd snorts. "Happy fifteenth, Justice."

Jule laughs when they turn to leave and Dylan halts to stare at me with a befuddled look. Dumbasses messed up and twisted our ages. I just smile. Let them think what they want. I face Jasmin. Her shoulders are hunched like she wants to crawl underneath the table but recovers once the officers are out of sight.

"Do I really look fifteen?"

Jule chortles, almost spitting his drink out in front of him, but Jasmin shakes her head. "Not in that outfit you don't. I think it's your youthful face… it looks so…" she thinks, fingers groping her chin, "clean and refreshed?"

They all laugh. Her face looks fine, it isn't filled with wrinkles. Were twenty-year-olds supposed to have any? Noah's face is flawless, and no one takes him for a teen.

"You're just so tiny, Nik. You're barely five feet and you're all," Jule looks like he's getting ready to squeeze into a cramped space, "itty-bitty."

I look down at my body. I don't consider myself thin. I barely fit into my mother's dress due to my curvy figure. I have wide hips and a full chest. Noah suddenly loops an arm around my waist and brings me closer. His lips graze my cheek and then my earlobe, making my body tremble beneath his expert touch.

"You're perfect."

On instinct, I turn to meet his lips with mine. The sudden kiss intensifies into one of hunger. His hand, which he'd placed at the back of my neck, brings me closer and my fingers grip his jacket near his throat, pulling his face deeper into mine.

Jasmin clears her throat. "I guess they're ready for dessert," she whispers, and Jule pretends to gag.

Then suddenly I hear someone else clear their throat. A deep voice that sounds irritated and infuriated. A chair screeches against the floor as it's dragged back and then forcefully pushed forward. It hits our table with a loud shake.

Surprisingly enough, I recognize who it is and turn slowly to meet Dylan's penetrating gaze. Fuck, he looks like a damn robot cop; patrolling, examining his surroundings, ready to lift up his machine-gun-made arm and blow us to bits. His eyes hold mine, exploring my insides, and I cower away from Noah.

"I thought perhaps I would leave my card, in case you decide you want to talk."

Noah takes the small rectangular business card. I touch my lips and wipe away the extra moisture.

"And this?" Noah's brow is arched as he waits for the rookie to respond. I take the card from his hand and notice Dylan's hand-written a number on the back.

"My cell phone. I'm hardly ever at my desk, too much to do out here."

My face burns, and my voice gets lost somewhere between my lungs and throat. Noah's arm around my waist tightens, most likely trying to control his impulse to attack the cop, and I'm brought back to the reality of being his girlfriend. Of how fucked up it would be for me to make an inappropriate and perhaps flirtatious comment. It reminds me of the fact that I had promised to try harder, and as difficult as it may be, I grit my teeth and toss the card across the table.

"That's not necessary. I won't be calling since there's nothing for me to recollect."

Dylan seems torn as his eyes sweep over me and then to Noah's arm around my waist. His glare stays where Noah's hand possessively grips my hip. He freezes and then looks at his business card. His lips twist in agitation. "Whatever," he grunts and then stalks off.

"What a strange guy," Jasmin suddenly says, a straw between her lips. She takes a long sip from her coke. "Hot as hell, but strange."

"Kind of young to be a detective, ain't he?"

Noah shrugs at my brother's inquiry, then he takes his hand from my waist and rolls his shoulders. I glance at him—his tight jaw, furrowed brows, elbows firmly on the table, with angry, balled fists under his chin.

Noah never halts his advances or backs away from me. On the contrary, he enjoys and takes advantage of every instant he's by my side, and he never takes for granted my acceptance or responses. The distance unsettles me.

"What's wrong?"

Like he hadn't realized he'd backed away, he turns slowly, his temple rests over his fists, and smiles. "Nothing," Noah scoots closer, then wraps his arm around my shoulders, bringing me closer. "Are you having fun?"

I quickly glance at my brother and best friend, both giggling and truly enjoying our time in this fancy place. I nod, then give Noah a small kiss. "I am."

It's been too long since I last saw my brother this happy. Usually, his eyes are glazed with sorrow.

"And this is just part of your gift."

"What are you talking about, Noie?"

Noah's wide smile quickly morphed into laughter. "I love it when you call me that."

I usually called him Noie to poke fun at him, but lately, I voiced it more as a term of endearment. Ever since we were kids, it was my nickname for him, and I'd enjoy watching him writhe, but now it only caused him to laugh and then kiss me. He didn't disappoint. Noah brings me close, embracing me. I mumble under my breath about him not answering my question when the server comes back with the dessert menu. Our faces light up.

A hard pounding at the door startles me out of my half-twin-sized bed. I fall to the floor and stir Jasmin to unearth from her cocoon. We share a tiny mattress and we worked late last night. She worked at a club and I scrapped for metal. I worked whatever odd jobs the agency supplied me with.

Her eyes are rimmed with dark make-up and she opens them to slits. "Did someone knock?"

I'm on the floor and crawling to the door. "Who the fuck would even think to wake us up? Whoever it is knows better." I'm mumbling nonsense under my breath when the trailer's door creaks open and lets in the eye-stinging sunlight.

I shield my eyes. "What!" I growl at the person who I still can't manage to see through the brightness and temporary blindness the sun caused me.

"Is this a bad time?"

My legs straighten from my awkward position on the floor, and I rub my eyes. I can't believe who it is and I'm unable to speak his name for fear of being wrong. But after taking in his ordinary, casual clothes and the steel hard body clearly underneath, and then briefly allowing myself to gaze up to those large dark eyes, I question instead whether I'm hallucinating or dreaming.

"Who told you where I lived?"

Dylan chuckles and sweeps his hand over his scalp as if forgetting he chopped off his short, tousled hair. He then digs his hands into his jean pockets. My eyes trail over his heavily tattooed arms, the black swirls slipping away from my view under his gray t-shirt, and I desperately look elsewhere to distract my already wandering thoughts. Why does this rookie cause such twisted feelings inside me? I don't want to like him, let alone be attracted to him. Besides, I'm Noah's girlfriend and I love Noah.

"Can we talk?"

My answer is automatic. "No." And like he didn't expect that to be my response, Dylan leans his weight on one leg and frowns. Fuck. He's even sexier when he seems vulnerable.

I look behind him and around, my skeptical neighbors watching us closely. It's obvious, even out of his uniform, that he's a cop. Damn it, if people around here begin to think I'm cooperating with law enforcement, I'm dead! It's an unspoken oath of mine—I share my information with the people and the people alone. My credibility would be shot. Cops never help us, so why help them?

"Listen, I just want to help you. I understand you don't trust me. Are your parents around? Perhaps I can speak with them instead, and seeing as to how you're a minor—"

I cut him off right there. Any attraction is sliced off by the blade of his ignorance. "You obviously haven't done your research. Have your partner tell you all about Case 97-081E. And don't you ever come knocking at my door so damn early in the fucking morning again."

I slam the door in his face and crawl back to the bed.

Or at least I think I do because when I finally wake up, I'm on the floor and still a few feet from the bed. Jule is home from work and the smell of the strongest coffee hits me like a train.

Jule chuckles under his breath. "Hi, Nik."

I roll to face the ceiling of our two-hundred-twenty square footage living quarters. I'm not an expert in measurements, but if I were to lie down with my hands raised above my head and my feet touching the wall, my hands would need to only reach a few more inches in order to graze the wall. That's how big it is in width. Regardless of its size, it's home.

I bend my knees, plant my feet on the ground, and stare at the ceiling until another scent reaches me. "Where did you get bacon?"

"Noah sent it over." He chews a mouthful of a thin, crispy strip.

"It's so good, Justice, seriously. You've got to try it." Jasmin sits in the tiny bed with a plate filled with bacon and a steamy mug between her knees.

My mouth waters. I hadn't had bacon since my parents cooked in this kitchen. Jule tosses me a strip and smiles, reading my mind. When I sit up, he extends an arm, a mug in hand. "Black, just how you like it."

"The bacon or the coffee?"

"Both," he laughs.

I take a bite at the same time I reach for my coffee and sigh, a warm buzz in my belly that reminds me of home takes over. Well, it's more like a moan. I sit on the floor, with my back to whatever wall holds me there, and travel to a much simpler time. A time when working like a slave through the night until five in the morning wasn't on my agenda. I close my eyes while I chew and sip. I wanted to go to college, be a journalist. I had dreams.

It's all I can do to hold on to the past until Jasmin brings me back. "Hey, didn't that cute cop come by earlier, or was I dreaming?"

I groan. Dylan isn't cute, he's fucking hot.

"Ugh, I sent him off. Who in their right mind would wake me up?"

Even my roommates, who are my family, know better than to wake me. Hell, even if I was on the ground they wouldn't, hence them savoring breakfast while I snored on the floor.

Jule leans toward me. "A cop?"

I nod, unable to respond. I'd stuffed like three hot and crispy slices of bacon into my mouth.

Jasmin speaks for me. "I didn't hear much, since I was really more asleep than awake, but he said he wanted to help. Then I think he asked to speak to your parents and Justice slammed the door in his face."

"Now that's my Nikoletta!" Jule chortles.

I shake my head, still unable to understand why Dylan insists on playing the role of ‘good cop'. It doesn't suit him. He looks more like a well-groomed biker about to bash someone's head in with a crowbar. Besides, he gives off this eagerness to be part of something and acts like wearing a badge is an honor. It doesn't suit him.

I can't stand the thought of a cop near my home after all they haven't done for us. He wanted to help? Help with what? And that reminded me, how had he known I was there that night? I doubted that someone would actually fully cooperate regardless of recognizing me in that terrible storm. Did this mean Piper spoke about me?

"Justice, are you alright?" The concern in Jasmin's voice unfreezes me.

I blink and set my coffee on the ground beside me. "I was just wondering how that cop heard I had a gun, how he found out where I lived, and why he's pretending to care so much."

Jule straightens. "We gonna go talk to those two girls now?"

I nod. "I think we should."