CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Billboard hadn’t heard from O’Shea all day. Of course, it was Monday, and they’d spent almost the entire weekend together, a lot of it horizontal, but still… He wanted to have her sultry voice in his ear, breaking up the boredom of paperwork.

Yup. Paperwork.

Billboard hated that shit with a vengeance, as did the boss and the rest of his teammates. And even though Mizzay cut them some slack and normally picked up a lot of what was required, she drew the line at completing the individual agents’ case reports. That was on them, and Billboard was behind by about three and a half assignments.

He glanced down at the blank page blinking on his computer screen, and even though it was late—past his normal quitting time—he picked up his phone instead of typing.

He dialed O’Shea’s number.

“Hey, big guy,” she greeted breathlessly. “What’s up?”

“Just trying to write reports and not having much luck,” he grumbled. But Billboard was cheered just hearing her voice. “What have you got going on?”

They hadn’t made plans, but if O’Shea didn’t have anything special on her agenda, he’d make a late trip over to say hello and…perhaps take her out for ice cream and a little back seat fun at the local make-out spot they’d discovered one evening. It was secluded, overlooked the ocean below, and best of all, the kids they’d talked to up there who might or might not have been smoking weed, told them the cops pretty much left the place alone.

Awesome .

Even better were the black-out windows in his company owned SUV.

“Oh, not much. Running out to do a few errands,” O’Shea replied breezily, bringing Billboard’s mind back to the conversation at hand.

“Uh, huh.” Dammit. That blinking cursor was mocking him. “I don’t suppose you want to get together later?” he asked hopefully.

“Um, not tonight,” O’Shea hedged. “I have some…errands, then I’m going to stay in after I get my…things accomplished, and, uh, take care of laundry.”

Things , huh? And laundry? The last was a new one for Billboard. O’Shea, even though she’d given him shit about him sending his laundry out, actually hated washing her clothes, but when she had to, she accomplished it with a fierce determination to get it the frick out of the way. And mornings were her normal MO for that.

Billboard snorted.

The fact he knew that about O’Shea meant they were really getting to know each other. Yup . He had to admit to himself that they were. At least with all their day-to-day stuff. And bonus. She hadn’t seemed to mind his possessive side, at all. She’d even warned him she had one of her own, so there’d be times when they vied for supremacy. Awesome.

Now, if only he could get up the guts to fill O’Shea in on the darker aspects of his life, maybe they’d have a chance at…something.

Billboard tried to shake off his worries. Not regarding his and O’Shea’s future, but something more imminent. He couldn’t quite quell the feeling of disquiet that had arisen in his gut. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come over?” he asked, probing again to see if she’d ‘fess up to what she had cooking. Because he was pretty sure it didn’t involve a washing machine.

“No. Not tonight,” she rebutted, far too breezily.

She then gave a huge yawn.

What ?

Busted .

That was a fake yawn.

O’Shea might not know it, but her real ones had a tiny little snuffle at the end, which he wasn’t hearing as she let loose with another doozy.

The woman was definitely up to something.

“Okay. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, then,” Billboard told her evenly, already plotting his next move in his head. Whatever was going on with O’Shea, he was going to check it out.

He’d finish his damned paperwork, then head over to Anna’s house to see what was percolating. He couldn’t imagine what trouble O’Shea might be getting herself into, but he never dismissed his instincts when they told him things were about to go sideways.

“Bye, Billboard. I’ll dream about you tonight,” she ended with a long, seductive hum.

Damn. Now his cock would be hard while he attempted to make out his freaking reports.

“Thanks for that,” Billboard groaned.

O’Shea laughed. “Just trying to help. I’ll call you tomorrow, big guy.”

She disconnected, and with a grunt, Billboard adjusted his junk and refocused his efforts.

He needed to finish this busy-work so he could see just what O’Shea was up to.

****

An hour and a half later, finally free of pencil-pushing, Billboard pulled up in front of the Jakes’ house. His Bronco was nowhere in sight, and neither were any other vehicles, but what did he know? They might all be in the garage.

He got out of his SUV, strode up to the door, and knocked.

A minute passed, and with his foot tapping, he knocked again.

Frick. No one was home. Which either meant O’Shea wasn’t back from her “errands”, perhaps the little group of three had gone out for food, or O’Shea was getting herself into trouble. The third supposition was a distinct possibility. Billboard was feeling uneasy.

He glanced around to see if there were any nosy neighbors out and about, and not tagging any, he jogged back to the SUV to grab a lock-picking set out of the glove compartment. He didn’t like the idea of breaking in, but something wasn’t adding up, and he needed to have a look around.

Just as he turned to go back toward the house, a vehicle pulled up to the curb and Ethan popped out.

“Billboard!” He ran excitedly to BB, leaping up for a high five.

Billboard gave it to him with equal enthusiasm while sneakily slipping the lock-picking kit into his back pocket.

Yes. Now he wouldn’t have to break in like a common thief.

“Hey, Ethan. What’s up?”

The boy shifted his backpack on his shoulder, and Billboard took it from him, easing the kid’s burden. Ethan thanked him and smiled broadly as they both headed for the house.

“Mom had to work late, and O’Shea said she had things to do, so I ate dinner at one of my Mom’s coworker’s houses, and I’m home a little early. But Mom should be getting in soon. What are you doing here?” He ran his sentences together, and Billboard had a suspicion that some kind of sugary or chocolaty dessert had been part of what Ethan had consumed earlier.

“I’m just looking for O’Shea,” he answered with an innocent shrug. “She said she was going to be here doing laundry.”

“That’s funny,” Ethan didn’t look at all bothered. “She told my Mom she’d be out.”

Ethan fit his key in the lock. “You wanna come in and wait for her?”

“Uh, sure,” Billboard said, although his mind was racing.

Where the hell could O’Shea be, and what trouble was she getting herself into? The only people she knew around here were the SOS team, and not one of them had said anything about seeing O’Shea tonight. Brigid, for sure, would have teased him about not being able to keep his woman “involved” enough that she had to look for other things to put on her agenda.

Was that all O’Shea was doing? Filling in time? Maybe making a girl-trip to the mall?

But…here he was, and… Billboard sighed. Maybe he should back off and go home.

O’Shea was a grown woman; a cop who’d been living on her own and taking care of herself for a long time, and wouldn’t appreciate him snooping into her business, despite the fact she’d said she didn’t mind his caveman tendencies. But he couldn’t help himself. It was just how he was built. Billboard wanted to be part of the things O’Shea did; to have her six in a pinch if she needed him.

Even if it meant keeping her happy by doing her laundry for her…

Billboard mentally snapped his fingers.

Yes . Maybe that’s where O’Shea was. She’d carted her dirty stuff off to one of those wash-and-fold places that did your laundering for you, and was embarrassed because she’d given him shit about it. She was probably, right now, biding her time at a café or something, waiting for it to be finished. That would make sense.

So why was his stomach still unsettled?

Dammit . He needed to set eyes on O’Shea.

“Maybe I should—”

Ethan opened the door, and Zoe’s loud yowls tore through the air.

“What the heck?” Ethan scrunched up his nose. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard her make any noise.”

Billboard, too, thought it unusual. He hadn’t witnessed that level of mewing from Zoe when she’d been at his house.

The gray cat headed right up to them, little Cheeto at her heels, but instead of wrapping herself around his legs in greeting as she normally would, she sat down and cried some more.

“What is it, Zoe?” Billboard asked, squatting to pat the agitated cat.

She meowed again, then took off down the hall toward O’Shea’s room.

“I think she wants you to follow her,” Ethan said, scooping up Cheeto and giving him a hug.

Billboard scoffed. “Seriously? I think you’ve watched too many movies, kid.”

But Zoe wasn’t letting up. She went halfway down the hall, turned around, and with a new approach, head-butted Billboard’s shins before running back toward O’Shea’s room again.

Ethan raised his brows.

“Okay. Fine. I’ll see what she wants,” Billboard huffed.

He’d rather be out, driving the roads and looking for a turquoise Bronco, but this would only take a minute.

He strode down the hall, pushed into O’Shea’s bedroom, and…

The first thing he saw were her dirty clothes spilling out from a wicker hamper in the corner.

So, not laundry.

What the hell was O’Shea up to?

Zoe jumped up onto O’Shea’s desk, and sat, agitatedly, on her open laptop, blinking her large yellow eyes.

“You want me to look at something on O’Shea’s computer?” he asked the feline, then shook his head. “Now I’m going nuts, talking to a cat.”

But Zoe meowed, and pushed her nose against the blank screen.

“Okay. Okay. But don’t tell the guys that I was listening to you,” he huffed, walking toward the desk. Luckily, Ethan had stayed out in the living room, so he wasn’t witness to Billboard’s momentary insanity.

Billboard gently set Zoe aside, and wiggled the computer’s mouse.

It came to life, and the last page O’Shea looked at was displayed.

Billboard squinted.

“Town meeting tonight. At seven thirty.” It named a location. He glanced at his watch. It was closing in on eight. “And this is pertinent, why?” he mumbled.

Yeah. Why would O’Shea want to go to a gathering that had nothing to do with her; that should matter only to the town’s residents? It wasn’t as if—even if O’Shea decided to stay in Massachusetts—that she’d be living anywhere but with him, in Cambridge.

Billboard gave a convulsive swallow at where his thoughts had gone, and…fuck. No takesies-backsies. He wanted O’Shea to live with him. Hopefully, not just as a temporary thing, but as in…permanent. He’d come to love having her in his space, in his bed, and he was beginning to think that O’Shea being part of his world might have a chance at becoming a reality, if he didn’t continue to be so chicken-shit.

He shook off that dilemma, because right now…

Town meeting ?

He quickly scanned through the minutes that were listed, and only one thing gave off silent alarms.

The name, Jakes.

Billboard’s fingers flew on the keyboard as he opened up a new window and researched the guy.

Yup. Barnie Jakes was Anna’s ex and Ethan’s father.

Apparently, Barnie was the head of the selectboard in town, and also the moderator of tonight’s special town meeting. He’d called a gathering to determine whether the townsfolk would adopt a resolution to change the political dynamics of the town, having it governed by a mayor instead of a board.

Billboard still wasn’t seeing the problem. Why would that issue have O’Shea mobilizing?

He screwed up his face and read again, but nothing more stood out. He guessed he’d have to go to the town hall and see what was up in order to ascertain the impetus that had sent O’Shea there.

Zoe meowed plaintively again.

“Uh, thanks, Zoe. I think,” he told her with a scruff to her head. “And yes, I’ll go see what’s up with O’Shea.”

The cat blinked up at him again, and then, as if satisfied, went over and curled up on O’Shea’s pillow.

“Okay, then,” Billboard snorted. He closed the laptop, walked out of the room and down the hall just as the front door opened and Anna Jakes walked in.

“Hey Anna,” he greeted.

Her shoulders, which had been up around her ears, dropped. “Oh. Billboard. It’s you. I, uh, wondered whose vehicle that was in the driveway.”

“Yeah. Sorry to alarm you, but O’Shea’s got my Bronco, remember? So I’m on a loaner. But speaking of O’Shea, do you have any idea why she might be attending your town’s meeting tonight?”

Anna’s mouth dropped open and her eyes grew wide. “She went?”

“I think so,” Billboard replied, confused as to why Anna looked so spooked all of a sudden. His internal bells, which had been reduced to lazily ringing, began clanging again in earnest.

“Uh, Ethan?” Anna called over to her son, who was feeding Cheeto a hunk of cheese from the fridge.

“Yeah, Mom?”

“Why don’t you head into your room for a minute. I need to talk to Billboard in private.”

“Aw, Mom. Why is it when things get good, I’m never allowed to stick around?”

“Young man…” Anna said, in a tone that all people—both children and adults—understood as “don’t even think about giving me crap”.

“Fine,” Ethan grumbled. Hefting Cheeto and purloining the remaining cheese, he shuffled his way to his room.

“Ethan has heard far too much for his young age, already,” Anna stated unhappily. “I don’t want him privy to any more things if it’s not absolutely necessary.”

“Tell me,” Billboard prompted.

****

Ten minutes later, Billboard was on his way to the town hall, his guts churning.

What the hell was O’Shea going to do at the meeting? He groaned to himself. If he knew her, she’d probably stand up and call that asshole Barnie out in front of all his constituents. And what would the abusive prick do to retaliate?

Nothing good.

If what Anna said was true, and Billboard had no reason to doubt her, Barnie was a man who enjoyed lording himself over others; using his powers to get exactly what he wanted, and that included abusive behavior. And if the douchebag wanted to shut O’Shea up…

Billboard punched the gas, increasing his speed to another ten miles an hour over the limit.

Just let someone try to stop him.