Page 2 of First Surrender
“He’s stressed about work, come on.” Nathan ushers the half-intoxicated groom back into the party, letting me have some peace. That’s the norm, Jesse tries to bring me out of my shell and Nathan understands my aversion to fun. They’re good guys.
I wander back to my table where Whitney is finishing her fourth glass of champagne. Her platinum blonde hair swishes just above her shoulders as she turns to look at me. Paired with her pink dress, she resembles a shiny Barbie doll.
Her looks have never bothered me but lately, I’ve felt more than an aversion toward her. If I had more of a social life then I’d stop inviting her to things, but selfishly, I can’t be bothered to make new acquaintances. People exhaust me.
“I need to get going. Do you want to stay? Or do you want me to take you home?” I ask hoping she’ll cut me some slack and say she wants to stay to dance with any other man at this wedding.
“You can take me home.” She gathers her things while I groan internally. If I were a bigger jackass, I’d call her an Uber, but I’m not. Rideshares aren’t very prevalent in this area anyway.
I’ll make sure she’s home and then never call her again. I wouldn’t have this time but I didn’t feel like coming to a wedding without a plus one. It’d been six months since I had last seen her, even longer since I’d slept with her.
We’re a mile down the road when she starts stroking my arm. The same song and dance each time. She starts offering small touches then she’ll bat her eyelashes and ask me up to her apartment for a drink. I know the routine.
Sometimes I would let her think it worked, sometimes I wouldn’t. She’s never caught onto the fact that I don’t drink, ever.
“Do you want to come up for a bit? I have a new bottle of wine that I’ve been wanting to open.” She purrs from beside me. Her voice rumbles from her chest like she’s channeling Marilyn Monroe. It’s too easy.
It does nothing for me. My blood hasn’t pumped in that way for some time now. Maybe I’m getting old. If 32 is the start of erectile dysfunction then I have a long sad life ahead of me.
“Not tonight.” I ignore her sad eyes and the pout of her mouth, hitting the unlock button on my door so she gets the message. Thankfully, she does, climbing out onto the sidewalk. I should walk her to her door, but I won’t. She’ll get the wrong idea and I don’t have the energy to care about being a gentleman.
“Call me?” She asks as she closes my door.
“Sure.” I put it in drive and hit the gas before checking that she made it inside.
I think the next time that I arrest a drunk and disorderly, I’ll let them have a free shot. I deserve a good punch to the face.
* * *
The fluorescent white lights of the courtroom reflect brightly off of the polished oak of the judge’s bench and the wooden bar that separates the lawyers from the rest of the room.
I’ve spent many hours in this courtroom spectating cases being tried, testifying, and assisting with prisoner transport. Today I am one of the onlookers waiting for Declan Randolph to be brought out.
I readjust in my seat uncomfortably, dislodging my gun belt from where it’s digging into my side. We’re short on coverage today so I’m in full uniform in case I have to respond to calls. I prefer the days that I can wear a department polo, not twenty pounds of vest and gear. It seems that we’re short coverage most days though, which leads to more after-hours work for me.
A man is led into the room with wrist cuffs chained to his ankles, his bright orange jumpsuit hanging off of his slender frame. There is excited murmuring among the audience as the deputy helps Declan Randolph to sit but just as the commotion settles, a woman enters the courtroom from behind me. Walking past my row and down the middle aisle, Declan’s supporters go abuzz again, watching her pointedly as she strides confidently to the first row and directly into my line of sight.
Her long dark, almost black, hair sways down the middle of her back to her waist. Wearing a dark green sweater and a black skirt, with heels that are more than a couple of inches high, she flips her hair over one shoulder as she drops her purse and the long coat dangling from her arm onto the seat.
When she flips her hair again to fall down the length of her back, her eyes cut to the group of men on the other side of the aisle and they narrow.
I can only tell because of how long her thick eyelashes are. Her opinion is apparent even from my seat 15 feet back. A few of the young guys that she’s staring at give it right back to her, cocking their heads and puffing their chests.
I’m not sure of the connection but their obvious disdain of the woman in front of me puts me on alert. Not only do they outnumber her, I’m sure a few members of that crowd have warrants. It’s less about their appearance, though they do have a few crude tattoos and more about an attitude that projects unruliness.
Her dark eyes flick back in my direction as she sits but there is nothing but bored dismissal in them. On top of her petite facial features, she wears a hard mask. She hates the world and everyone in it.
It isn’t the first time that I’ve seen her in the courthouse. It’s been about a month, but my memory is sometimes painfully sharp and she’s hard to miss. I don’t forget a face, and I haven’t forgotten hers.
The judge bangs his gavel and begins his spiel to the defendant. The hearing regarding Declan Randolph’s case is beginning.
Mr. Randolph has a long rap sheet for various drug charges including Trafficking, Distribution, and Possession. He’s a career drug dealer currently being charged with Aggravated Murder. That’s a jump up from the other crimes but not unheard of in his line of work.
The victim was his wife, and now it’s the court’s job to find out if he did it on purpose as an act of domestic violence or if he’s another uneducated, loose-cannon drug dealer who didn’t know the heat he was carrying.
Lawson PD caught this case but I’m here anyway because it happened in Rollins County. We merely have a working relationship, not a great one, but it doesn’t matter. Declan’s crimes are a part of a big problem here and that means I have an interest in them stopping.
I want the overdoses to stop and the senseless crime. I need to know where Declan got the drugs that killed his late wife.The person who can supply drugs like that is powerful and doesn’t belong here. Possibly powerful enough to orchestrate an entire epidemic of violent crimes against the innocent people of Rollins.