Return to Me (Breaking Free Book 2) Read online

  Return to Me

  Breaking Free, Book 2

  Renee Fowler

  Copyright © 2018 Renee Fowler

  All right are reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author. No part of this book may be copied, scanned, uploaded or distributed, electronically or in print, without the written permission of the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any and all names, character, places and locations are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to places or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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  Chapter 1 - Gabe

  Chapter 2 - Trin

  Chapter 3 - Gabe

  Chapter 4 - Trin

  Chapter 5 - Trin

  Chapter 6 - Gabe

  Chapter 7 - Trin

  Chapter 8 - Trin

  Chapter 9 - Gabe

  Chapter 10 - Trin

  Chapter 11 - Gabe

  Chapter 12 - Trin

  Chapter 13 - Trin

  Chapter 14 - Trin

  Chapter 15 - Trin

  Chapter 16 - Gabe

  Chapter 17 - Trin

  Chapter 18 - Gabe

  Chapter 19 - Trin

  Chapter 20 - Gabe

  Chapter 21 - Trin

  Chapter 22 - Gabe

  Chapter 23 - Trin

  Chapter 24 - Trin

  Chapter 25 - Gabe

  Chapter 26 - Trin

  Chapter 27 - Gabe

  Chapter 28 - Trin

  Chapter 29 - Trin

  Chapter 30 - Gabe

  Chapter 31 - Trin

  Chapter 32 - Trin

  Chapter 33 - Trin

  Chapter 34 - Gabe

  Chapter 35 - Trin

  Chapter 36 - Gabe

  Chapter 37 - Gabe

  Chapter 38 - Trin

  Chapter 39 - Gabe

  Chapter 40 - Trin

  Thanks for Reading

  Chapter 1

  Gabe

  “I figured when you came on the force, I’d be done with these late shifts.” Shane stirs cream into his coffee, and tosses the slender red straw into the nearby garbage.

  Preferring mine black, I snap a lid on the styrofoam cup, and take a tiny scalding sip. “Rourke is about old enough to retire. When he goes out to pasture, I’m sure you’ll move on to a better shift and leave me here to languish on graveyard.”

  Shane gives me a lopsided grin. “See, rookie. I knew you were bright. You understand just how this works.”

  “I’ve been here for a year as of last week. I think it’s about time to drop the rookie crap.”

  Shane shakes his head slowly, still smiling. “Maybe you’re not as bright as I first thought, Gabe. You’re rookie until someone new comes along. I was rookie for four years.” He pauses to ruffle my hair. “And according to what I hear, we won’t have the budget for a new addition to the force for quite a while, so you may wanna get used to it, rookie.”

  When I first started riding along with Shane O’Sullivan, I thought he was kind of an ass, kind of a joke too, but he’s a good guy. The nights we work together go a lot faster, that’s for sure. Usually he’s content to loiter around one of the three twenty four hour gas stations around town, sipping on free coffee, and shooting the shit with whatever unlucky soul is stuck behind the counter overnight.

  But I know better than anyone that the tiny town of Trenton, South Carolina is mostly quiet, and hardly in need of its own police force. I grew up here, and against my better judgement, I never left. I spent two years working in Charlotte, which isn’t exactly a thriving metropolis or crime ridden either, but I never had too many long, boring nights like this.

  Leah worried about me though, and that long commute, plus all the overtime wasn’t doing much for our marriage. Maybe things would’ve turned out different if I hadn’t taken that position in the first place, but maybe we were doomed from the start. It would be easy enough to lay all the blame on her. I’ve spent months quietly, and not so quietly, seething about what she did, but I guess I played my part too.

  Staring down at the tan line from a wedding ring I no longer wear, I’m more sad than angry. Not sad because I’m missing Leah. I’m heartbroken because our little girl gets to suffer for all the things the two of us did, and didn’t do.

  “Whaddya say, Kelly.” Shane leans up against the counter near the register. “What’s new?”

  “Not a thing,” the older woman says. She withdraws a pack of gum from her smock pocket and offers us some. Shane accepts. I decline. “Well, actually, my oldest is about to graduate nursing school. She’s gonna be out there at the hospital with Leah,” she says to me. “How’s she been?”

  “Great. She’s doing just fine.” I see no need to mention that she’s banging one of the doctors at that hospital, although according to Leah, they’re just friends. They’re such good friends that my estranged wife felt the need to buy a second cell phone to keep in touch with her friend.

  “How’s that baby?” Kelly asks me.

  “Growing like a weed. She just turned three.”

  “You two know each other?” Shane looks between Kelly and me.

  “Sure do,” she says with a big smile. “I’ve known Gabriel since he was a baby. I was there when he was baptised.”

  Kelly attended the same church as me growing up, The Mount Zion Holiness Temple, which is no longer in existence. Well, the building itself is still there, but the church went kaput five or six years back. Now it’s got a new steeple, and a new sign out front that reads, First United Methodist.

  Shane angles his face towards me and silently mouths Gabriel. “I bet you got all kinds of stories about him from back in the day, dontcha? Was he always such a troublemaker?”

  Kelly smiles. “No. Never. His mother named his well. He was a little angel.”

  Shane can barely contain his laughter. Something tells me he’ll be calling me little angel for the rest of tonight, maybe the rest of the week.

  Before he can pry too much further into my past, a call comes over the radio on his hip. A 10-40. A fight in progress. Even before the dispatcher gives a precise location, I can just about guess where we’re headed. There are four bars in town, two of which hardly ever see any trouble, and two which have their fair share on the weekends.

  It’s Wednesday night, otherwise we’d be posted up near main street somewhere, keeping an eye out for drunk drivers, and close at hand in case any trouble breaks out.

  The dispatcher reads out the address for The Bronze Bull, and we take off. Shane flashes the lights, but chooses to keep the sirens off since it’s late. “Wanna take bets on who it is this time?” Shane asks.

  “You know I’m not a betting man.”

  “That’s right. I forgot. You’re a little angel.”

  “Shut up asshole.”

  “What did you say to me, rookie?” Shane gives me a fake dirty look that ends in a grin. “I bet it’s Marty Stamper. He just got out of county lockup a few days back.”

  “Maybe he’s missing the buddies he made in there.”

  “Must be.”

  But when we roll up, it’s not Marty Stamper. It’s some guy I’ve never laid eyes on, and a rail thin blonde woman with big hair, wearing a hellacious amount of makeup. She’s got him backed into a corner between the brick exterior of the bar, and the side of a dented dumpster.

  I’m not sure if a 10-40 accurately describes what we walk up to. I don’t believe there’s a police code for a grown man getting his ass handed to him by a woman less than half his size.

  To give him credit, he’s not really pu
tting up much of a fight. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to hit her, that he’s just trying to protect himself from her rage.

  “Break it up.” My voice booms.

  The small crowd gathered disperses to let us through.

  I pull the woman off him by the shoulders, and she flails around a bit.

  “Watch yourself, Nikki.” Shane fixes her with a finger. “You hit an officer, and I’ll have to take you in.” He turns his attention to the man just dusting himself off. “You mind telling me what’s going on?”

  “She just started attacking me!” He wipes a hand over his busted lip.

  “Bullshit.” Nikki tries to break free of my grip, like she wouldn’t mind finishing what she started. “This asshole thinks buying a girl a drink gives him the right to put his hand down my pants without invitation. O’Sullivan, you know I’ve been good here lately. I haven’t started any shit, and I took it outside this time, but there is no way I’m gonna put up with that.”

  “Alright. Everyone that isn’t these two needs to go on back inside, or head on home.” Shane says loud.

  Technically both these two should be taking a ride down to the station, but I know Shane well enough by this point to guess what’s about to happen.

  Shane turns the guy around, and pulls his arms back by his wrists. His free hand fishes around in his back pocket for his wallet. He flips it open, and squints down at his license. “So, Dylan Ross, do you make a habit of sexually assaulting women you meet in bars, or is this the first time for you?”

  “Sexual assault? What the hell man. I’m bleeding. She attacked me! Ask any of those people that were standing out here.”

  “I’ll be happy to, right after I review the security footage from inside this establishment.”

  Dylan Ross goes silent.

  I already know The Bronze Bull doesn’t have cameras inside. There’s one around each of the entrances, but that’s about it for security around this place.

  “You been drinkin’?” Shane asks.

  “I’ve had one.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Shane swivels his head in our direction. “Nikki, Officer Barton is going to escort you to the back of the cruiser, and you’re not gonna give him a hard time. Understand?”

  He gives me a tiny head shake which I take to mean no cuffs.

  I keep a hand on her upper arm as she staggers beside me. Maybe Dylan Ross isn’t inebriated, but this Nikki sure is. She doesn’t put up a fuss as I lead her over and open the door though.

  She looks to be about Shane’s age, maybe a few years younger. She gives me the once over. “I don’t believe we’ve met yet, Officer Barton.”

  It takes everything in me not to laugh. “Take a seat inside, Ma’am.”

  “Ooh. I like a boy with manners.” She bats her eyes at me, and ducks inside.

  I close the door, barely suppressing a grin, and watch Shane give this guy a field sobriety test. Ross passes with flying colors, but he has him blow on the breathalyzer too as well, before sending him on his way. “My suggestion is you keep your hands to yourself next time, Dylan. And you might want to steer clear of Miss Harper in the future as well. In fact, you probably ought to find yourself a new watering hole, catch my drift?”

  Ross scoffs, but doesn’t say a word.

  Shane ambles over and climbs inside the cruiser, and I follow suit.

  We wait until Ross gets inside an older, four door sedan and pulls away before Shane turns the key in the ignition.

  “You gonna let me out of here now?” Nikki asks.

  “Nope. I’m taking you home.”

  She sighs.

  “I haven’t seen you for a while, Nikki. What happened?”

  She leans back in the seat, and crosses her arms over her chest. “Nothing happened. I was just out minding my own business.”

  “I thought you quit drinking.”

  Nikki stares off at the scenery flying past.

  “How’s your brother doing?” he asks.

  “Which one? Well, they’re both locked up now, if that answers your question. One of ‘em’s in the state pen. The other is stuck out in Arizona, of all places.”

  “That’s too bad. I’m sorry to hear that.”

  I’m guessing Shane went to school with this woman, or maybe her brothers. It’s a small town. Everyone knows everyone.

  I was homeschooled up until the age of fifteen, then I attended a small, private high school two towns over. Most of the people that know my face are the ones I’ve pulled over, arrested, or those that remember me from church.

  Shane doesn’t ask where she lives, so he’s probably escorted her home a time or two in the past. When we pull up outside the rundown apartment complex at the edge of town, Nikki leans forward and hooks her fingers in the metal lattice that separates the front of the vehicle from the back. “O’Sullivan, aintcha gonna escort me in?”

  “I planned on walking you to your door, but that’s as far as I tread. You know I’m a happily married man, Nikki.” Shane smiles at her in the rearview, and lifts his hand, flashing his wedding band.

  “What about you, young stuff. I bet I could teach you all kinds of things.”

  I laugh. “I’m afraid I’m spoken for as well.”

  “It must be the uniforms. All you boys get snatched right up.”

  I haven’t breathed a word about my seperation to anyone yet, not Shane, not even my own family. Leah wants to work it out, but the thought of laying in bed beside her makes me furious.

  I hoped a bit of time apart would give me some perspective, after those weeks spent across from a marriage counselor did little to clarify things. If we didn’t have a child together, this would be the easiest decision in the world.

  “It was nice meeting ya, Barton,” Nikki says when Shane comes around to let her out of the back.

  “You too, Ma’am.”

  She giggles, and climbs to her feet unsteadily. My eyes track them as far as the front door to the apartment building. Only a few minutes pass before Shane is sliding back into the driver’s side door. He lets out a long sigh. “That’s a damn shame.”

  “You two old friends?”

  “I wouldn’t say that.” He scratches between his eyebrows, and glides a curved palm along the top portion of the steering wheel. “That whole bunch has gotten into plenty of trouble. They got brought up rough. You know how that shit goes. It runs in families.”

  I murmured my agreement. I’ve seen it enough in my three and a half years as a cop, not that I can personally complain about having a rough childhood. Leah either. The two of us together should’ve worked. On paper, everything about us worked.

  “I wouldn’t have minded taking that guy in, but then I’d have to drag her down there too, and she’s got priors. I’d hate to see her sit in county for six months over something so stupid,” Shane says.

  “From the looks of it, she taught him a lesson.”

  Nodding, Shane pulled away, and flicked on the radio. A painfully familiar voice fills the air. The breathy, sultry sound cuts straight through me, making my chest ache.

  Lots of people have a soft spot for their first, but most people don’t have to hear them on the radio. They aren’t assaulted by pictures of them on a magazine cover at the grocery store check out, posing suggestively with an electric guitar, or worse, splashed across the front page of a tabloid, staggering out of a nightclub on the arm of some other man.

  I reach over to flick off the radio.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing, rookie?” Shane turns the radio back on.

  “I hate that song.”

  “Aw, come on. That’s our local girl. Everyone loves Trin Sinclair.”

  I used to. I loved Trin before anyone outside of Trenton had ever heard the name Trin Sinclair. I loved her when she was seventeen years old, with long blonde hair hanging past her ass, wearing a skirt that flapped around her ankles like all the other girls in that church we used to go to. I loved her when my parents said, “Stay away fro
m Trinity. She’s nothing but trouble.” I loved her when she told me, with tears in her eyes, and not tears of joy, “Gabe, I’m pregnant.” I still loved her when she said, “I can’t do this. I don’t want to be a mom.”

  “You really like this pop crap?” I ask, trying to keep the strain out of my voice.

  “Nah, but it kind of gets in your brain, doesn’t it?” The song ends, but my misery is just beginning. Shane clears his throat, and belts out the lines in a croaky, tone-deaf voice. “I should hate yooo, but I miss yooo. I used to love yooo, but I hate yooo, ‘cause I have tooo.”

  Chapter 2

  Trin

  “Gooood morning, beautiful,” Kane sings, wrapping me up in his arms.

  I shove him off me, grumbling. I’m hungover, and I feel like hell. I don’t even remember inviting him back to my tour bus last night. In fact, I promised myself I would not invite him back ever again, but I’m shit at keeping promises, even to myself.

  “Get lost, Kane.”

  “I told you, I’m sorry.”

  “And I told you, I hate you.”

  His breath is warm against my neck. “That’s not what you were saying last night.”

  “Ugh.”

  “Fine.” Kane springs up out of bed. “But don’t lay there and act like you’re little miss perfect. I know for a fact you were fooling around with that sound engineer in Nashville. That’s the only reason I even talked to that girl.”

  “I think the two of you did more than talk.” Swaddling the sheet up around myself, I sigh wearily towards the ceiling. “So I guess we’re even, is that it?”

  “Yeah, exactly. We’re even. Now we can just put all that behind us and start from scratch.”

  How many times have we started from scratch? I’ve lost count.

  I don’t doubt Kane wants to fuck me, but I know he doesn’t love me, and that’s okay. I don’t love him either. It gets lonely as hell on tour though, unless you’re up for screwing randoms that hang around after shows, which I’m not.

  Kane is convenient. He’s available. He’s also not someone I can get rid of according to my manager.

  In his opinion, Kane is the perfect combination of boyish good looks, and southern charm that plays well in interviews. He still draws in the tween and adolescent demographic, which I seem to be losing. The fact that he’s moderately competent on bass and can carry a tune factors in too I suppose.