Sweet Dreams
Page 56

“Good call, Ace, but you might wanna take another step back,” Tate warned.
“Tate –”
“He tell you he had Bethany before me?” Tate bit out and my body jerked at discovering this news, news Wood had not shared.
“No,” I whispered.
“He tell you she was nuts?” Tate asked.
I shook my head. “Nuts?”
“Fuckin’ ‘round the bend. Christ almighty, the bitch made Neeta look adjusted,” his eyes swept me and he finished, “seems I got a f**kin’ type.”
That made me take another step back but this time I did it like he landed a blow.
“Tate,” I whispered.
“She was whacked, pure and simple. Didn’t know it until I started it with her. Her Dad knew it, lazy f**k, didn’t do shit about it. Coulda got her help. Didn’t. Didn’t listen to Wood when he talked to him. Didn’t listen to me talkin’ to him after Wood. Total denial. She was high-strung, he said, but he knew better. She wasn’t high-strung. She was f**kin’ cracked.”
I swallowed and stayed silent as Tate kept talking.
“I had Neeta jackin’ up most of my life and then I had Bethany jackin’ up the rest of it. I couldn’t handle her, I didn’t have the tools and I didn’t have any help from her family. I couldn’t do it so I had to scrape her off. She slit her wrists and almost bought it. Ten minutes later, Arnie showed ten minutes later, she’d be gone,” Tate informed me. “She’s in C Springs now, a live-in unit. Last time I visited her she was doin’ a lot better. Half zombie on all the shit they gotta feed her but it’s better than the strung out way she used to be.”
That was sad.
It was also not exactly how Wood described it. He’d given me the bones of the story but he left out all of the meat.
I took in a breath and asked, “Is Neeta married?”
Tate answered immediately, “Yeah.”
I closed my eyes and turned my face away, licking my lips.
“Look at me, Lauren,” Tate demanded and I shook my head. “Babe, f**kin’ look at me.”
I looked at him.
“You hear other shit about Neeta?” he asked astutely and I nodded.
“Nothing much,” I whispered. “People mention her name and yours. They sound… funny.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “Fuckin’ hilarious.”
“Not funny like that,” I told him softly.
“I know Lauren,” he replied.
“Betty said she’s the reason you’re not a cop,” I said.
“That ain’t true though I bet she believes it like gospel. Neeta’s bigger than life, likes it that way, works hard for that reputation. You ask about Neeta, people’ll talk and you can believe about five percent of what they say and she likes it like that, it’s exactly how she wants it. They mention me with her, you can believe about point five percent of what they say.”
“Tate –”
He cut me off. “It’s shit.”
“But –”
“It’s shit, Lauren,” he clipped. “I quit The Force because Arnie is a lazy f**k. Most of his officers were lazy f**ks too. Shit happenin’ in that town, you wouldn’t believe. Still does ‘cause he’s still Chief. Whacked. I didn’t like the way he ran his station, I didn’t like the way he played favorites with his boys, I didn’t like the way he turned a blind eye when shit went down and I knew he did it because he’d had his palm greased and I didn’t like the way he didn’t have the spine to admit his daughter was sick and get her help. I made detective because I worked f**kin’ hard for it and I did it despite him because he never f**kin’ liked me mostly because I didn’t like him. That shit went down with Bethany, it was his gig. I knew I couldn’t come to work and see his f**kin’ face every day. So I quit and started huntin’. Make triple what I made then and don’t have to deal with any f**kin’ shit.”
“Except Bubba,” I reminded him, perhaps stupidly.
“Yeah, except Bubba,” he agreed, luckily not getting even angrier being reminded of Bubba.
We stared at each other and I watched as Tate seemed prepared to hang onto his anger.
Therefore I told him, “Carrie says I leap before I look.”
Tate didn’t respond.
“And that I hold a mean grudge,” I went on.
“Lived that nightmare,” Tate muttered.
“I should have talked to you,” I whispered.
“Yeah, Ace, you should have talked to me.”
I watched some more as he continued to seem prepared to hang onto his anger.
“I’m sorry, honey,” I kept whispering.
His brows went up and he crossed his arms on his chest.
“Should I forgive you?” he asked and I swallowed.
The tables were turned and now I knew what he felt like all those weeks ago and it really wasn’t nice.
“Um…”
“I got home, Lauren, went straight to you. After a month of wantin’ nothin’ but that, to be home and have you on the back of my bike, I go straight to you and you throw attitude at me and shit in my face. I said somethin’ that hurt your feelings and you busted my balls for two weeks. You treat me to that, what do you expect me to do?”
I gazed around in confusion, considering he’d been sweet to me for nearly two days, he got me safe to my family, got in Brad’s face for me on more than one occasion and gave me three orgasms. I’d already thought he’d forgiven me.
Perhaps I was wrong.
“Um…” I mumbled, not looking at him.
“Baby, get your ass over here,” he ordered and my eyes flew to him.
“Sorry?” I whispered.
“Get your ass over here,” he repeated.
“Are you going to throttle me?” I said it partially in jest, feeling the waters, partially seriously.
He moved fast, stepping toward me in a lunge, he caught my hand and stepped back, taking me with him and yanking my hand at the same time so I crashed into his body.
His arms curved around me and he looked down at my face. “Lucky you’re wearin’ those shorts and that top, Ace, all that skin, those tits, those legs, can’t stay pissed for long.”
“Maybe I should go shopping again,” I muttered.
“You plannin’ on pissin’ me off again?” he asked.
“Not intentionally,” I answered.