Absolute Power (Southern Justice #1 (37 page)

“Ignore him, Dylan, he is just butt hurt from his inability to get a piece of ass on his charm alone. He has to take what he wants as even a twenty dollar hooker would turn his ass down.”

Chase grabbed Cash by the scruff of his neck and shoved him over the concrete wall which separated the cars from the people walking. Cash’s feet didn’t quite make it over in time to catch his body, leaving him hanging somewhat upside down, a new gash over his left eye.

“Frances Cashmere Gr…” I started, his back against the metal railing.

“Wait a minute.” Chase stopped me, laying his open hand against my chest, laughter building in his voice. “Are you serious, he even has a pussy name?” Both Cash and I waited until he composed himself, “No wonder you chose a life of crime, no girl is gonna scream, ‘Oh, Frances’, while you fuck her!” Suddenly his laughter stopped, his eyes going wide as he had a thought. “Then again,” he shrugs, “you’d have to roll yourself in flour just to find your pencil dick.”

Cash lunged at Chase, which doesn’t faze him an inch, while he slams him back against the fence.

“As I was sayin,’ Frances Cashmere Greyson, since the day you came screaming out of the cunt which bore you, you have done everything in your power to be a burden on society. Your crimes are too numerous to mention, too heinous to repeat.”

I was inundated with mental pictures of the rap sheets on my desk, the evidence bags full of items, all which proved his guilt. Yet here he stood, a free man, one who starred in the nightmares of women all over the city.

“Listen up, Captain Morgan. I’ve paid my debts to society. It ain’t my fault my attorney was smarter than the DA.” The thought of Claire’s smiling face kept me from ripping Cash’s head off. At the end of all of this, I would be with her, far away from this piece of shit and his raunchy mouth.

“You may think you’ve paid, but you have no idea.” Chase snarled at him, two fingers poking into his chest.

“You think you’re so fucking smart. You think by getting rid of me the sun will shine and unicorns will fall out of your ass?”

“No, I have no use for unicorns, but by getting rid of scum like you, a beautiful girl will sleep naked in my bed, with a smile on her face. All because I put it there.” I spoke words of hope, desire, and truth. Spoken from my heart, but originating deep within my soul. She had embedded herself, somewhere; somehow, she had moved in and taken over.

“Don’t you know there will always be a man like me, taking the naked bitch away from the likes of you? Not giving two shits if she ever smiles again.”

He was aiming at me with what he said, but the target his words hit were in Chase’s chest, buried deep and protected by honor and courage. He wanted to get a rise from me, what he got was the fire of a loaded gun.

“You sorry, motherfucker.” Chase picked Cash up by the scruff of his neck and one of his ankles, and then stood on one of the cement benches, dangling Cash over the edge.

“Any last words, cock stain?” Chase demanded, shaking a petrified Cash over the water.

Cash looked to the sea of black below and then back to Chase. “Hurry up, fat ass, you’re giving me a fucking cramp with your lard ass,” Chase yelled in his Marine voice.

“The only regret I have,” a smile formed on Cash’s face, his hand heading toward his crotch. “Is that I didn’t get the chance to fuck that pretty little mouth on your Mom, the one who didn’t think I was good enough to take home.”

I reached for Chase’s arm. I wanted to pull him back over, beat the living shit out of him for letting her name pass his nasty lips, but Chase had other plans. In a voice as calm as still water, “That’s three.”

Cash didn’t scream or flail as his body hit the rocks, which embedded one of the pillars in support. His body bounced twice before disappearing into the river water.

Chase pulled a silver phone from his pocket, pressed several numbers and then in an equally calm voice told someone he thought he saw someone jump from the bridge. He didn’t wait as he ended the phone and then tossed it over the side to join Cash.

“Rot in hell, you fucking bastard!” I shouted into the darkness, followed by a wad of spit over the side.

I jumped back into my car, slamming it into first and took off down the lane. Austin informed us we had less than thirty seconds before he had to end the feed. As my speedometer hit ninety, I rested my head against my seat. I wanted nothing more than to go to Claire, crawl into her bed, and hold her until the sun came up. My time would come, I knew this.

“So, Dylan, man, I gotta ask?” Chase spoke breaking the silence in the car. “You seriously have a girlfriend?”

I looked to my right, his disbelieving expression reflected in the navigation panel lights. With a smack of my lips, I answered. “Abso-fuckin-lutely.”

It marks a big step in your development when you come to realize that other people can help you do a better job than you could do alone.

~Andrew Carnegie

A
s we progress into adulthood, we find the things we once found silly in our adolescence to be vital. For me, it was hanging curtains. My home, well the walls surrounded me, kept the weather at bay, but weren’t much in the way of decorated. There were never any pictures on the walls or knick-knacks to collect dust. No end tables to house empty drinking glasses or lamps to change the bulbs in. Gigi wasn’t into such things. She would’ve rather bought a pack of cigarettes or a bottle of hair dye, than to sink a single dime into the place we lived. For her, even the purchase of a gallon of milk was a waste.

Now, as I stood in my bedroom, light from the beautiful day the weatherman has promised gleaming in brilliant streams of gold and white, I realized how nice a set of curtains would look in here.

Purchasing curtains would be an easy trip, but with my eight foot ceilings, hanging them posed a new adventure.

I wasn’t crazy enough to climb on one of my chairs or end tables. When I have a day off from work, I intend to stay as far away from the hospital as possible, so risking a bad fall is nowhere on my radar.

My options for completing this task were limited. On one hand, I could call Dylan, but something about the man told me he wouldn’t exactly own a ladder, or be willing to help hang a curtain. Option two, and the one I chose twenty minutes ago, was to call Carson.

Miss Georgia of course wanted to know if I had enough fabric, as if I were sewing them myself. Again, not tempting fate with a needle in my hand. Carson was honestly a little overexcited at the prospect of coming over, almost like he had been waiting on an invitation.

My basking in the sunlight was cut short as the front door opened and a cheerful voice announced her arrival. “Oh, I was hoping you would want to do something with these windows.” Georgia pushed past my bed and rounded the corner, taking me in a hug, which left me breathless and happy. Noticing the bags in the corner, Georgia jumps in, completely in her element. Her verbal thoughts were running a mile a minute about swags and cornice boards.

“Hey, how about when I finish helping you ladies, you allow me to take the two of you to a nice dinner?” Carson had crept into the room, ladder in hand and a tool bag around his hips. I don’t recall a time I’d ever seen him with a scowl on his face. He didn’t disappoint as he set the ladder against the wall, and then leaned over to kiss my cheek.

“You, my love, have a deal,” Georgia answered with no input from me.

That’s how I found myself in the middle of downtown, a glass of wine in my hand, a belly full of food and tears of laughter falling down my face.

Carson looked at me, his eyes gleaming from the joke he’d shared. “Claire, I’m glad you called today, there’s something I wanted to discuss with you.”

You know the feeling you get when you just know you’re in trouble, that sinking, uneasy feeling of dread? That feeling immediately took up residence in my belly. “Sure, Carson. What’s up?”

“Dylan.” He said pointedly, leaning back in his chair, a wide open invitation to spill my guts on his face.

“Sure, I’ve heard of him.” Teasing back, trying to bring back the laughter we had surrounding us just moments ago.

“I know you’ve been seeing quite a lot of him and wanted to make sure he is treating you well.”

With Carson being a father figure to me and one of Dylan’s best friends, I would have assumed he would’ve already known the answer.

“Sweetheart, listen, I know Dylan, more than he knows himself. He has the ability to be a great man. One who will stand behind his word and cherish the strong woman who breaks through his bullshit exterior. You have done just that.” He tapped his glass against mine, a large grin on his face. “Now don’t think for a second he isn’t going to screw up, he was born with a short fuse and foul mouth. But his daddy and granddaddy instilled values in him which he will use and not even realize it.”

“Can I say something?” Miss Georgia sobered; she had been very quiet through most of our meal. “Claire, honey, I don’t mean to pry.” She glanced down at her fingers, her nervousness untouched by the wine she drank.

“Earlier when you went to hang one of your curtains, I noticed your shirt rode up and there was a scar…” She pointed to her own back, her face sad and apologetic.

The first time I had coffee with Carson, when he’d asked me to give Dylan a chance, he had added a side note. “Don’t sleep with him right off. If you give him what he’s used to, he may fall back into a pattern.”

Carson had nothing to worry about, sex with Shane was always the same, quick and with most of our clothing on. When I was eleven, my dad came home from a late night brewing and sampling session, to find Gigi wasn’t home. She had gone off to visit one of her friends who was passing through town. Dad came in, staggering drunk, most likely horny, and looking for his wife.

He woke me and Cheyenne up demanding we tell him where she was. I told him the truth; I had no idea, only that she was with her friend. Dad didn’t like my answer, so he’d pulled his belt off, reared his hand back and started hitting me across my back with it. It wasn’t the first time he had done it, but it was, however, the first time he’d hit me with the metal end of it.

After he’d passed out, Cheyenne helped me over to Miss Greenwood’s place, the closest thing we had to a doctor. She put herbs and oils on the cut, told me to let the moonlight hit it and I would be fine. The next day, I’d gone to the school library and read a book about bacteria and mold. Scared, I had slipped into the locker room showers and cleaned the junk out with soap and water. I now have a scar about the width of my pinky that runs from one side of my back to the other.

“So you see, where Cheyenne and Gigi used sex as an escape, my dad used fear to rule us. He could cut you with his words alone.” Georgia being, well Miss Georgia, took me into a hug, silently telling me she loved me and always would.

On our way home, Carson had to pull over as red and blue lights came up the street behind him. Four police cars raced past us, headed for the Bridge. I prayed there hadn’t been an accident. Miss Georgia gave Carson a look when he reached for his phone. She had explained a long time ago when he was off duty, he wasn’t allowed to talk shop, that included following up on what we had just witnessed.

The next morning, I was enjoying the darkness my new curtains provided. Snuggling into my favorite sheets, I attempted to drift back to sleep. Dylan had called me right before I’d gone to bed. He wanted to know if I was upset with him, as he’d found out from Carson I had not contacted him about the need for male assistance. I reminded him his family was in town and I didn’t want to interrupt.

When my cell began ringing, I assumed it was him. He mentioned something about getting together with his brothers and wanting me to join them.

“Hello?”

“Claire, are you watching the news.” Lainie spoke so fast, which annoyed the heck out of me. Combined with her excitement and volume of her voice, I nearly ended the call and turned my phone off.

“Fuck, no! I was sleeping.”

“Well wake up, and turn on channel six.”

I begrudgingly tossed back my blankets and stomped into the living room. “There had better be a platoon of naked Marines…” I grumbled as I pressed the remote bringing the black box to life.