Bad Cop Read online

  Bad Cop

  Heroes of Henderson ~ Book 2

  by Liz Kelly

  Published by Kelly Girl Productions

  ©Copyright 2013 Liz Kelly

  Cover design by Tammy Kearly

  ISBN: 978-0-9889838-3-0

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from the author at [email protected].

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events and places portrayed in this book are products of the author's imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  For more information on the author and her works, please see www.LizKellyBooks.com

  To

  Pam, Danny, Jay, Chuck

  and

  Mr. & Mrs. B.

  My heroes of Henderson

  Chapter One

  Early Morning, Monday July 5

  When Vance Evans rolled over in his bed, he found his mouth nestled up against warm feminine flesh, right in that intriguing place between two soft curves. Smooth and taut, her skin reeled him in with its sultry scent. Feeling his body tighten, he groaned.

  It had been too long since he'd had a woman in his bed.

  Too. Damn. Long.

  Adrenaline kicked in, shaking off the lethargy that gripped his extremities. Torn between moving up to suck on that berry-ripe mouth or sinking himself deep between long, firm legs, Vance slid his hands from her hips to waist and then up over small mounded breasts, where his fingers clutched and splayed. His lips toyed with one extended nipple and then sucked deeply. He moaned with the pleasure of finally having his mouth on the one he wanted.

  That’s when he remembered her tight little ass. The pert little bottom that had been flirting with him for weeks. In running shorts. Whenever she bent over in her tennis dress. In that fucking spandex golf skirt. The drive to get his hands on her naked backside was overwhelming. He needed to do it now.

  Flipping her over was easy. So easy he didn't remember doing it. Then he kissed his way down her spine, his hands caressing their way along her sleek, firm back, down to that solid, round—

  “Holy backstabbing son-of-a-bitch,” he shouted, leaping from the bed and throwing an arm out, knocking over a lamp from the bedside table as he fought for balance. He stumbled about looking for…for what?

  His vision faded to black and he felt for the bed blindly. Fucking head rush. Bracing one hand on the mattress he reached out and felt around the sheets while his head started to clear and his vision began to return.

  Moaning when he realized the bed was empty he moved himself down toward its end looking for evidence of red high-top sneakers or a white halter tennis dress. When he was able to hold himself erect, he looked around the darkened room and noticed the pale sliver of light underneath the bathroom door. For one agonizing second he didn’t know what to hope for.

  Sliding a hand down his face, Vance walked slowly toward the bathroom. He knew it then. Knew he’d had a momentary psychotic break in the form of a sex dream and had landed right back into his own empty existence. He pushed the bathroom door open and found…nothing.

  Lolly wasn’t there.

  She wasn’t there because she was right where she was supposed to be. With his best friend, Brooks.

  After staring into the void of his bathroom for a good ninety seconds and letting all that fantasy separate itself from all the actual ball-and-chain reality, Vance returned to his bedroom and sat down on the side of his bed.

  Lolly DuVal is going to be the death of me.

  Sucking in a deep breath, Vance collapsed onto his back. That woman had certainly done what she’d set out to do. What he’d asked her to do. Eight weeks ago, after waking up next to a woman and having no recollection of her name for the third time in as many weeks, Vance had taken a good hard look at himself and decided to make a change. A big change. Because it had become abundantly clear that he did not like women.

  Oh, he liked their bodies well enough. As long as it was after midnight and he was heading to bed anyway. And he sure enjoyed the aggression of the sex act, and the release it provided him—for about seven fucking minutes after it was over. But having to deal with all the fallout the next morning? No. And having to act interested in all that high-pitched jibber-jabber over the breakfast table? Definitely not.

  His buddy Brooks had finally spread all the evidence out before him. Vance did not like women. Which was a problem because now that he was turning thirty, time was starting to fly by. And with all Vance planned to accomplish in his life, he knew he first needed to address the continuous practice of abusing himself and the women who fell for his bullshit.

  So he had turned to Lolly.

  He’d met Lolly two months ago when she’d come home for the summer. Brooks had already snapped her up before Vance even knew her last name. Damn Good Cop. Although, Vance conceded, Brooks had certainly been a champ about it all. Because while Brooks wined and dined Miss DuVal—trying to flesh out something between those two that had apparently started a good number of years ago—he was willing to stand on the sidelines while Lolly voluntarily schooled Vance on appreciating women outside of the bedroom. And being that Lolly was as competitive as Vance himself, she worked her magic on him all over the golf course, the tennis courts and, for a short time, on his morning runs.

  Which was exactly what he needed right now he thought as he rolled off the bed and into a pair of running shorts and a T-shirt. Having a sex dream about your best friend’s girl was so not cool. He laced up his Nikes, hit the door of the pool house, stepped onto the stone patio of his father’s estate, and tried desperately not to think about Brooks and Lolly and the extreme likelihood that she was waking up in Brooks’ bed for the very first time.

  Fucking asshole.

  “Jesus,” Vance said out loud as he stretched, eager to get the run started to move all this suffocating anger out of his body, hoping to leave it on the railroad trail at least for the day.

  He didn’t begrudge Brooks, he thought as he moved off the patio and began a slow jog down the grassy hill. He passed his father’s fleet of sports cars sheltered inside what resembled the horse stables at Churchill Downs. No, he didn’t begrudge Brooks at all. And if he could somehow clear out the darkness he felt all bottled up inside, Vance was certain he’d be downright happy for the guy.

  After all, Brooks Bennett did not have a selfish bone in his body. After pitching their team to the State Championship back in high school, he bore the responsibility of being this town’s favorite son with honor and integrity, rescuing dogs and old people, remembering first names and relations. He was the Golden Boy of Henderson, and Vance was proud to be his friend.

  But more than all that, Vance knew that for some squirrelly reason Brooks had loved Lolly DuVal since she was a girl—so no, he didn’t begrudge Brooks for finally landing the love of his life. He only wished Lolly had been cloned.

  Because Lolly was perfect from the top of her dark brown ponytail to the tips of her high-top sneakers. And throughout the last eight weeks, she had managed to find a way to like Vance for who he was, including all his bullshit history and womanizing nonsense. She cared about him like no other woman ever had. And the good Lord knew he loved her for it—loved her hard—and it wasn’t going to be easy getting over all that.

  His bad cop ways of relating to women may have come to a screeching halt since Lolly came into his life, but she’d inadvertently opened the Pandora’s Box of emotions that he’d managed to lock down tight for the past several years.
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  The exponential growth of the hurt, anger, and excruciating heartache of a ten-year-old boy whose mother had up and left him now coursed through him regularly. But the worst part of all of it was the longing. The acute, desperate longing for something he couldn’t convey. Befriending Lolly had caused him to hope, and now that she was with Brooks, he wasn’t sure where he was going to put all that.

  As Vance started up the long, gradual hill of the old railroad path, the vision of a pink-cheeked, dewy-eyed blonde assaulted him. For the hundredth time, he racked his brain for who she was, this 3-D hologram his mind continually tortured him with. The goddamn thing had ruined all blondes for him because none of them could ever measure up to the…warmth that this vision held.

  Tired of wrangling with all the bullshit in his head, Vance did what he’d been doing for the past five years. He turned on the power boosters and got lost in the run.

  ***

  “Dude. How far did you run?”

  Vance pulled up short and blinked. Busy mopping sweat out of his eyes with the hem of his shirt, he hadn’t noticed the prepped-out pretty boy sitting on the lounge chair next to his father’s pool. Standing there panting and dripping sweat after the punishing run, his eyes darted between the guy dressed up like an Easter egg and the crystal clear water of the pool. Finally, he pulled his shirt over his head, kicked off his shoes, and dove in.

  Damn that feels good.

  Vance swam underwater for as long as his breath would hold, wondering who the hell that was. The guy had stood up as Vance had approached which meant he had manners…or wanted something…or was scared. Though he didn’t look scared. He was wearing a crisp, pink button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and tucked into a pair of meticulously pressed lime green Bermuda shorts. With a belt that was kinda lame and kinda cool at the same time. Vance needed to get another look at that belt.

  As he surfaced he thought he should probably know the guy, right? Brooks probably knew the guy. Brooks—fucking Hero of Henderson.

  Vance swam over to where Starched & Pressed was hanging.

  “So,” he said, folding his arms over the side of the pool. He looked up at the kid, squinted against the sun, and asked, “Do I know you?”

  The kid bent down, shaggy brown hair falling over his forehead as he offered Vance his hand. “Davis Williams. Phi Delt from State—like you. I was at The Situation two nights ago for our wet T-shirt contest cleverly disguised as a charity fundraiser, and…well, I’d like to talk with you if you have some time.”

  “You’d like to talk to me? About what?”

  “Well…uh.”

  Vance pushed himself up and out of the pool in one graceful move, placing a foot on the concrete ledge. “Listen, Davis.” Vance felt proud he’d remember the kid’s name. See I can be good at names. “I was off duty by the time I arrived, so if one of your frat brothers landed himself in jail, you’ll have to talk to the officer on duty at the time.”

  Davis laughed. “Fortunately, after you and Brooks flashed your badges at the door, things stayed fairly sane. So no one got tossed in jail, as far as I know. However,” he said with a very broad grin, “it was an epic night in Phi Delt history. More money raised than ever before, and everybody seemed to have a very good time.”

  “Huh.” Everybody but me.

  “Listen,” Davis said. “You don’t know me, but I know all about you. And I have found myself in a rather desperate situation, and could use your…expertise. I’m willing to do whatever needs doing to get it.”

  Vance continued to drip chlorinated water onto the pool deck. He couldn’t imagine what this frat boy wanted, but after that sex dream it was clear he needed a distraction, so he was willing to go with it. “All right, Davis.”

  Look at that. Still have his name on the tip of my tongue.

  “Let me take a shower, and then we can talk over breakfast.”

  Their attention was drawn across the pool as Genevra DuVal stepped out of the French doors leading from his father’s kitchen. She wiggled her fingers in a happy greeting at the two of them. They wiggled their fingers back, mesmerized by the smoking-hot brunette in the tiny pink bikini and woven see-through cover-up.

  “Yeah,” Davis said, his voice sounding tight, “your mom already invited me.”

  “Dude. That is so not my mother.”

  “Oh…thank God,” Davis croaked.

  “I know, right?” Vance pulled himself together and hit Davis in the arm. “Put your tongue back in your mouth and wait for me here.” When Davis didn’t pull his gaze from Genevra, Vance tapped his cheek none too gently to bring his eyes back toward him. “Hey! You hear me? Right here.”

  “Got it,” Davis said, shooting one quick glance back across the pool. He started moving to his vacated lounge chair. “Don’t worry, dude. I’m not going near any of that.”

  “All right then. Give me ten minutes.” Vance smiled as he headed toward his shower. He didn’t know Davis Williams and had no clue as to what he wanted. But whatever it was, Vance’s heart and soul were damn grateful for the diversion.

  Chapter Two

  Davis sat on the cushioned lounge chair feeling strangely comfortable in the opulent surroundings. As his gaze surveyed the many multipaned windows across the back of the mansion and the long stretch of lawn in every direction, he considered how welcoming the woman in the pink bikini had acted toward him—a stranger—showing up on her doorstep early on a holiday morning. And as much as he knew Vance had a reputation as a womanizer, which was exactly why Davis was here, the guy was crazy likable too. Of course, being a legend at his alma mater didn’t hurt. The guy wasn’t just lady-killer handsome; he was also part of the team who had won the College World Series seven years ago. Even more than that, Vance Evans had given a large donation to their Phi Delta chapter the year Davis had pledged. Vance’s donation had allowed the frat house to be overhauled and upgraded, the benefits of which Davis thoroughly enjoyed during the years he lived in the house.

  Through his musings, Davis heard someone approach from behind, so he stood and turned toward the sound.

  The hot, bikini-clad brunette was holding out a fluted glass and smiling invitingly. “I thought you might enjoy some orange juice.”

  “Awful kind of you.” Davis smiled back and took the glass from her hand.

  “You wouldn’t happen to be the Davis Williams from NC State my daughter Lolly talked so much about, would you?”

  “You’re Lolly’s mother?” Davis asked, his eyebrows shooting sky-high.

  “I am,” Mrs. DuVal said in a very empathetic and soothing tone. No doubt she was completely aware of the heartache her daughter was putting him through.

  “Well, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. DuVal.” He knew the word, “finally” came out begrudgingly, like he was a terrible loser. Of course, that was just how things stood now, he reminded himself. “I ran into Lolly the other night over at The Situation.” And then he stopped himself, because a wet T-shirt contest was definitely not the kind of thing he wanted to bring up to Lolly’s mom. He finished by saying, “She looked as pretty as ever.”

  “Well, aren’t you sweet for saying so. Why don’t you come join Hale and me while you wait for Vance? We’re just sitting down to breakfast and would be grateful if you joined us.” She put her arm through Davis’ and started walking him toward the table. “It’s the only meal they allow me to cook around here, and I tend to go a little overboard.”

  Davis knew he should be saying no. Vance had been clear. “Wait for me here,” he’d said. “Right here.” But as the brunette bombshell’s body brushed up against his, everything in Davis’ head got a little foggy, so he was in no position to stop his feet from moving right along with her. The one clear thought he kept thinking was that this woman was way too young to have a daughter his age.

  Way too young and way too curvy. Yes, she looked a whole lot like Lolly. But he would sooner believe them to be sisters rather than mother and daughter. And
, while his head was traversing a very slippery slope, he couldn’t help but acknowledge that Lolly would never be able to fill out a bikini quite the way this woman did.

  Something was way, way off here.

  How was it possible that she was Lolly’s mother? Lolly, who matched him in age at twenty-three. This woman was nowhere near the age of his own mother. And what was she doing here? Was Mrs. DuVal the housekeeper? The cook? After all, she had answered the door and shown him to the pool to wait for Vance. And if she was the housekeeper and/or cook, did they require her to wear a bikini while she worked? What kind of Playboy Mansion had he stumbled into?

  He had so many questions cruising through his brain, but none of them could be articulated politely. So he kept his mouth shut and put one foot in front of the other, sipping his orange juice and trusting that the answers would emerge on their own.

  And that’s when freaking Bruce Wayne stepped out of those good ol’ French doors.

  Okay, maybe the guy wasn’t Batman, but he was handsome, fit, and rich as fuck by the way he dressed and his obvious command over land, sea, and air. You could tell simply by the way he carried himself that not only the house, the pool, and the grounds belonged to him, but clearly this woman who continued to hold on to Davis’ arm did as well.

  Well, that explained a lot.

  He knew Lolly’s dad had died before she was born and that her mother never remarried. So, he was guessing she was shacking up with Batman. And no judgment there. Hell, even he wanted to shack up with Batman.

  “Sweetheart,” Mrs. DuVal cooed as they all converged around the umbrella-topped table set for five, “this is Davis Williams, a friend of Lolly’s. Davis, this is my fiancé and Vance’s father, Hale Evans.”