Nolan by Lane Hart, D.B. West

Chapter Nine

Nolan

The sound of an alarm clock wakes me up at an ungodly hour.

After just three weeks of enduring Rita’s schedule, I’m completely wiped out. At least I could go back to sleep after she leaves for work, so the woman must be beyond exhausted.

Not that I usually do sleep in. Instead, once Rita’s out the door, I get up, shower, and then make sure her shithead brother actually leaves for school. I don’t follow him, but I don’t think he has been going.

“Ugh,” Rita murmurs as she makes the tinkling sound of the alarm stop by hitting the button on her cell phone, then starts to climb out of her bed.

“It’s too early,” I tell her, grabbing her up in my arms and dragging her back down to the mattress. “Quit the club. I’ll pay you whatever you make there if it means I get to sleep in for once.”

“Ha! Nice try. Now let me go so I can get in the shower.”

“Fine,” I huff, releasing her.

While she’s hurrying around the room, pulling out her underwear and clothes for the day, I ask, “Can I come by and borrow your car later to get groceries?”

“Sure,” she easily agrees, then pauses to look at me over her shoulder. “But it better come back in the same condition as you take it!”

I smile but don’t promise anything. How can she be upset about me putting a new set of tires on that piece of shit? The old ones were so slick you couldn’t see where the treads used to be.

“Tell me what you want for dinner tonight, and I’ll grab what I need to make it,” I offer before she disappears into the bathroom.

“You don’t have to cook for me.”

“I like cooking for you,” I tell her. Rita flashes me a smile, and then she’s off to the shower. Dinner is one of the few times of day we actually get to sit down and see each other. During her lunches, we have to hurry, so dinner is the one meal that’s not rushed during the week.

Rita runs out of the bathroom twenty minutes later in a blur, dressed in a black skirt and pink blouse, ready for the office.

“Tacos,” she says when she comes over to my side of the bed and gives me a swift kiss on the lips.

“You picked the meal that takes the shortest time to make on purpose, didn’t you?” I ask, kissing my way down her cheek before she eventually moves away.

“I just like them too,” she says with a grin that says I’m right. “See you tonight?”

“Yeah, see you then, Cherry Pie.”

There’s a long pause as she grabs her purse from the closet as I hold back from saying the three words on my tongue. I think she’s doing the same, but both of us know it’s crazy to mean them when we’ve not even been seeing each other for a month. Right?

“Bye,” Rita says with one final glance over her shoulder.

“Bye,” I call out, and then she’s gone.

* * *

“You’re goingto be late for the bus,” I tell Cory when I find him sitting in the living room on the sofa, playing on his phone after I come out of the shower an hour after Rita left for work.

“Not that it’s any of your fucking business, but a friend’s picking me up.”

“Whatever you say,” I mutter, heading into the kitchen to fix a bowl of cereal.

“Don’t you have your own place, or are you homeless?” the teenager asks.

“Aren’t you old enough to get a job to help your sister with the bills?” I snap right back at him. “Unlike you, I actually buy the groceries and chip in on the rent.”

“Whatever. I can’t wait until Rita gets tired of you,” he says before walking out the door, slamming it shut and not locking it.

“Asshole.”

I finish my cereal and am washing my bowl in the kitchen sink when there’s a sudden knock on the door.

Before I can dry my hands on the dish cloth, a loud voice says, “Police! Open Up! We have a warrant!”

“Son of a bitch,” I mutter.

And since the door isn’t locked, they just let themselves in. No less than four officers in blue uniforms burst through the door. I drop the towel on the floor to put my hands in the air.

“Can I help you, gentlemen?” I ask politely.

The oldest fellow, looking to be in his forties, comes over with a stack of papers in his hands.

“Who are you?”

“Nolan Bishop,” I answer since they could slam me face first on the floor and find that much about me from my wallet in my back pocket. Fuck. That’s not the only thing in my pants. The nine-millimeter Smith & Wesson suddenly feels heavier than normal in the back of my waistband.

Since I’m a convicted felon from my teenage misadventures, that means I’m not supposed to possess firearms. Here’s hoping I can play nice, and the officers won’t insist on searching me.

“You’re not listed on the lease,” the officer replies when he glances down at the paperwork.

“No, I’m not. Rita Collins is the lease holder. I’ve just been staying with her…”

“Well, in that case, we don’t need your permission to search. Stay right where you are in the kitchen, out of our way.”

“Sure thing,” I agree, leaning my back against the sink.

Two of the men split up. One goes into Rita’s room, which pisses me off imagining him rifling through her panties and shit, and the other man goes into Cory’s bedroom. That’s when it hits me that the little shithead is probably the reason behind the surprise search.

Another officer tears apart the living room, pulling up sofa cushions and making a fucking mess before he goes over and opens the door to the linen closet.

“Got something!” he yells to the others.

Damn it. What fucked up thing has Cory done now?

While the fourth cop is also distracted, peeking in the closet with the others, I pull the kitchen drawer behind me open to ease my gun inside it, then slowly and quietly shut it back.

Whew.

If it’s in the house, I can lie and say it’s Rita’s. She won’t get in any trouble for it, but I will – to the tune of a mandatory five years in prison.

Six months in that hellhole was long enough that I know I never want to return.

But at the same time, if the cops found something in Rita’s apartment, she could possibly go down for it instead of them nailing her brother.

And I will never let that fucking happen.