I love my aunt. She’s my best friend and a damn good cop. When my mom decided to follow deadbeat number five to Florida when I was thirteen, Sam stepped in to raise me. Let’s not even get started on my father. He was deadbeat number one.
There was no way in hell I was going with my mother and the man who drank more than a fish and called her wench as a pet name. I would have lived in the street first, and Sam knew it.
As much as I’m thankful for it now, I definitely didn’t make things easy on Sam. I went through a bit of a wild child phase. But she made sure I survived adolescence in one piece. There was a time we both worried I wouldn’t.
“I’m sorry. I just want you to be happy and taken care of.”
“Taken care of? What is this? 1960?” I ask appalled.
“I don’t mean like that. Taken care of emotionally. A woman in any era needs that.”
“And you think a tattooed, playboy doctor is going to do that?”
She shrugs. “I think he just might. I see the way he looks at you.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen it, too. Like I’m just another mile to ride.”
“Sometimes a single mile can turn into a thousand.”
I curl my lip. “We’re still talking about motorcycles, right?”
Sam laughs. It sounds just like mine, a little rough and throaty. “Yes.”
“Good. Because bouncing sexual innuendos back and forth with my aunt wouldn’t be weird or anything.”
“Nah.” She pulls the spare key to my condo from her key ring. My backpack with all my personal belongings, including my keys—is still in my truck. “Call you before I come?” she says as I open the passenger side door.
“Yes, please.” I give her a swift peck on the cheek before I slide out of the unmarked cruiser. “See you in the morning.”
My mattress is virtually calling my name as I drag myself inside and straight to the bathroom. As much as I need sleep, I need a shower first. I’m still covered in Reese’s blood. I pull my scrubs off, trying my hardest not to think of Dev or his identical twin.
God, two of them. That’s just fuckin’ unfair to the entire female population and their lady bits.
After my shower, I climb into bed completely naked, too tired to even bother with clothes. I drift off, trying not to dream of Dev. It’s a futile attempt, because as soon as I fall asleep, his face appears in front of mine. I can practically smell the scent of his skin and feel the touch of his fingers as he silently seduces me. In my dreams, I always succumb, inviting his advances, welcoming his hungry kisses and demanding touch. I let the friction of our bodies ignite and give in to the burning desire. I let him take me, control me, overpower me, because, in my dreams, I can be everything he wants without reservation, and he can be everything I need without risk.
* * *
I wakeup to an obnoxious ringing sound and wetness coating the inside of my thighs.
I grab for my house phone, nearly knocking it right off the nightstand.
“Hello?” I answer groggily in the dark.
“Kayla, it’s me.”
“Sam?”
“I was called into work. Another OD.”
“Another one? That’s like the third this month.”
“Yes, another one,” she replies grimly. “Scottie is going to pick you up and take you to your car. I would’ve texted you . . .”
“. . . But my phone is in my truck. Got it.”
“Sorry to wake you. Maybe we can meet for a run later?”
“Sounds good.” I yawn.And tell me what the hell is going on.Sam isn’t supposed to share official police business but confiding in me is like talking to a priest. Complete confidentiality.
