The 'Burg: Hold On Part 12

Mental note: lock the d.a.m.ned door, no matter if you're inside just to pour a cup of coffee.

"Well, come on in, Officer," I greeted sarcastically, throwing out my hand with the phone in it. "Something I can get you? Cup of coffee? Late breakfast? Quick b.l.o.w.j.o.b?"

He did not look amused. He did not look annoyed.

He looked ticked.

"You puttin' in your own storms?" he asked.

With the c.r.a.p coming from my neighbors, Walter Jones getting my cell phone number and having no problem calling me, thinking he could ever in a million f.u.c.king years make it "worth my while" to talk about Dennis Lowe, and Merry waltzing into my living room, all in the expanse of ten minutes, I wasn't following.

"What?"

"Windows, Cher." He jerked his head toward the side of the house where the storm windows were stacked. "You puttin' in your own storm windows?"

I had no idea why he would care, but there was only one answer to that question, so I gave it to him.

"Well, yeah."

"Why doesn't your landlord do it?" Merry asked.

"Because he's seven hundred and twelve years old and my CPR skills are a little rusty, so I don't want him giving himself a heart attack switching screens out for storms when I can do it myself."

"It's his responsibility," Merry returned.

"I'd have to study my rental agreement, but I think routine maintenance is my responsibility, Merry."

"You study that agreement, you'd find you're wrong."

It had been a while since I read it, but I had a feeling Merry was correct.

I didn't share this feeling.

I said, "Then, considering the screens pop out, the storms pop in, and the doors only require little ole me to be able to turn a screwdriver, I'd rather just do it instead of calling him, waiting for him to come over, suffer a stroke while winterizing my house, thus scarring me mentally for life."

His eyes narrowed. "You this much of a smarta.s.s before I made you come for me five times?"

I waited for my head to swivel around on my shoulders while fire shot out of my eye sockets.

When that didn't happen, I snapped, "Uh...yeah."

"Leave 'em," he ordered. "I'm done with my shift, I'll come over and put 'em in."

I didn't know how to react to that except allow my mouth to drop open, which I did.

Before I recovered, he asked, "You know Riverside Baptist Church?"

"Oh G.o.d. First you give me five o.r.g.a.s.ms, now you're gonna save my soul?" I asked back.

He crossed his arms on his chest. "Rein in the smarta.s.s, Cher. Don't got time to get you sweet, which means get you hot, so you'll give me what I want instead of bein' a pain in my a.s.s. Answer the question: Do you know Riverside Baptist Church?"

That was when my eyes narrowed. "Get me sweet, which means get me hot?"

Merry became visibly impatient. "Babe, focus."

"You want me focused, tell me why you're here, injecting cheer into my day," I demanded.

"Peggy Schott belongs to Riverside Baptist Church."

I snapped my mouth shut.

Merry didn't.

"She talk about that? Trent talk about it? Ethan come from them to you and talk about it?"

I felt my heart beating hard in my chest. "What I wanna know is why you're talking about it, and how do you even know that? How'd you even find out Peg's last name?"

"I told you I was gonna take your back and that's what I'm doin'," he returned.

That was what he was doing?

We'd had our previous fun-loving chat at four o'clock yesterday afternoon.

It wasn't even ten o'clock the next morning and he'd already learned about a church Peggy belonged to.

I had a bad feeling about this because I knew Merry, and once he got his teeth into something, he didn't let go.

And he had his teeth into Trent and Peggy, so my chances at stopping him from getting right up in my s.h.i.t were minimizing by the second.

These thoughts made me throw up both hands in exasperation and snap, "It hasn't even been twenty-four hours!"

"Someone gives you a heads up they're thinkin' of f.u.c.kin' with you, you don't offer them a head start," he replied, then kept going. "Margaret Schott is the volunteer a.s.sistant director of a program run by Riverside Baptist Church called Faith Saves. The mission of this program is to send members to hang outside AA, NA, and Al-Anon meetings, as well as methadone clinics, approaching people who leave to seek recovery or guidance through the word of G.o.d."

"Holy s.h.i.t," I whispered.

"Considering those programs are already significantly faith-based, the folks at Riverside either aren't that bright or not real good at hiding their recruitment tactics. Google Peg Schott's name; she's all over the church's website, tied to this program. Might be a jump, but doubtful-this is how she met your ex. You know anything about that?"

I shook my head.

"They take Ethan to church?" Merry asked.

I kept shaking my head.

"He's never mentioned it?" Merry pushed.

I continued shaking my head but asked, "This church bad news?"

"Haven't had time to dig deep. Jumped from that to some articles about a couple of community centers and other churches that give s.p.a.ce to recovery programs that got together to call the cops to get Faith Saves off the pavement so they don't bother group members after meetings. But they stick to publicly owned s.p.a.ce and they're peaceful, if irritating, so cops can't do jack. Haven't been able to follow it further."

I didn't have any time to sort through this information in my head before Merry kept talking.

"Trent Schott has priors."

I felt my lips part.

Merry continued to give it to me.

"Pulled over, suspected DUI, tests showed he was high. Weed. First offense, it was just pot, not much came of it. Got in a fight at a bar that rolled outside that the cops had to break up. His statement reported he was confronting someone who owed him money. They were both hauled in, but no property was damaged. He eventually dropped the charges, so did the other guy, so that slid. Then he was caught with a baggie of ice, not enough to make a big deal about it, so they didn't. He got community service. He was also suspected in a liquor store robbery, but they didn't have any security cameras and the clerk on at the time couldn't positively identify him."

I stared at Merry reeling this off, all not so good stuff that could be good for me, and I said nothing.

Then again, Merry wasn't done.

"Last one, strung out, he stole a lighter from a convenience store. Owner was behind the register, and he'd been having some not insignificant gang trouble and having that for a good while. Fed up, he bought a piece, tackled Schott, shoved the gun in his face, and made a citizen's arrest on the spot. Good news is, he also called the cops to make a proper arrest. Seein' as Schott only stole a lighter, security footage confirmed that, and he was able to hand that eighty-nine-cent item back to the owner, no charges were filed."

Before I could swallow it back, I made a noise that was half snort, half giggle before asking, "Trent was arrested by a convenience store owner?"

Merry grinned at me. "Tackled then arrested. And the owner was sixty-three at the time."

I made the noise again, my shoulders jerking with it.

Visualization of my imagination's version of this awesome event hit my head and I couldn't hold it back any longer. I busted out laughing.

I did it so hard, I squeezed my eyes shut and wrapped an arm around my stomach.

I sobered instantly when I felt a warm, strong hand wrapped around the side of my neck.

My eyes shot open and up to see Merry's face gentle, without humor, and he was looking down at me.

"There's my girl."

Uh.

No.

I stepped back, running into the bucket chair, so I had to skirt it to get out of his hold.

His hand dropped, but he stepped toward me.

I took another step back.

He took another step my way.

"Merry, stop moving," I ordered.

He didn't. He kept at me, I kept retreating, but he made his movements while talking.

"As hilarious as that is, Schott's inability to outrun a sixty-three-year-old man who has to clear a counter to get to him is not gonna go far with a judge. He might call a recess so he can go to his chambers to have a laugh, but no charges filed, it'll probably be inadmissible during a custody battle."

While he spoke, when I was about to run into my media center, I shifted and Merry shifted with me. I had to make another shift, rounding the room, and Merry did it with me.

"Merry, stop moving," I repeated.

"Not much in the rest," he continued like I didn't say a word. "Can't hide he used, so the DUI and ice won't be a surprise, and since he's in recovery and his record has been clean through that, might not get you far. The fight isn't good. Even if charges were dropped, you might be able to use that to prove he's got a temper and isn't averse to using his fists."

Through this, my leg hit an end table and I adjusted. We cleared the couch, I shifted again too soon, both my calves. .h.i.t the coffee table, and my a.s.s went down on it.

I looked up. Cell flat to the table, I braced my hands to push up, but Merry was there, chin in his throat, eyes on me, and when he spoke again, his mind was clearly on my location.

"Tried to get your mouth on me more than once when we tore at each other up last Friday, but I was in the mood to use mine. Lookin' forward to learnin' what you can do with yours, but like I said, baby, right now, don't got the time."

My only response that he couldn't twist was to glare at him, which was what I did.

"But got time before I go for a kiss," Merry informed me.

"Only kiss I'll give you is tellin' you to kiss off," I informed him.

"Who knew warm brown eyes like the ones you got could spark that kind of fire," he muttered as if he wasn't even talking to me.

"Step back," I demanded.

"No," he denied.

I continued to glare up at him, then I realized I was not the kind of woman who sat on her a.s.s, glaring up at a man towering over her and pinning her in. So I stood, which put me smack in Merry's s.p.a.ce, my b.r.e.a.s.t.s brushing against his abs and up his chest on my way.

They kept brushing when he didn't move back, but I didn't attempt escape, even to get away from the shafts of electricity this all caused at my nipples, shafts that headed south.

I glared at him from closer.

He stared into my eyes, his gaze moving down to my mouth then back up as one side of his lips curved.

He was getting off on this.

I didn't get that and I didn't want to get that.

I wanted this done.

"In the mood to play, Officer?" I whispered.

"Told you, sweetheart, don't got the time."

I shook my head but held his gaze. "Not what I mean. Single mom, all alone. Switch out her storms. Offer info to help her out of a jam. Been a while since I was in the know about these things, so tell me, what's the price for all that? You mentioned a b.l.o.w.j.o.b. You got stamina, but I got talent. Balance that out, I'm thinkin' it'll take more than the usual ten, fifteen minutes. We'll give it twenty. So I can manage my time, is there more?"

I wasn't even done talking before I learned his eyes could spark fire too.

I also learned he was in the mood to play, that being, playing me at my own game.

And doing it better.