In the Shadow of the Shield (Secret Lives Series Book 2)

  In the Shadow of

  the Shield

  Secret Lives, Book 2

  Carolyn LaRoche

  In the Shadow of the Shield

  Copyright © 2015 by Carolyn LaRoche.

  All rights reserved.

  First Print Edition: December 2015

  Limitless Publishing, LLC

  Kailua, HI 96734

  www.limitlesspublishing.com

  Formatting: Limitless Publishing

  ISBN-13: 978-1-68058-400-4

  ISBN-10: 1-68058-400-6

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  For those who have always shown

  their support of my dream,

  even when I wasn’t sure it would come true.

  You know who you are.

  Love you all.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter One

  “Do you know there are twelve pairs of red handcuffs hanging in the tree in your yard?”

  “You actually took the time to count them, Mabel?”

  “Well, yes. It’s not every day one sees a crepe myrtle full of handcuffs.” Mabel Guthrie eyed Diana up and down. “Just what have you and your husband been up to?”

  Diana turned and called out to her husband. “Hey, Donnie! Mrs. Guthrie wants to know why we have a dozen pairs of handcuffs in the tree out front!”

  “And why are they red?” Mabel yelled through the doorway.

  Donnie appeared in the door with a huge grin on his face. “You know that’s all the rage now, right?”

  “What? Cops having tree cuffs instead of garden gnomes?” Mabel snapped.

  Instead of answering the other woman, Donnie turned to her and winked. “Come on, hot stuff, I’ve got an hour before my shift. Why don’t we grab a pair of those things and put them to good use?”

  “What?” Mabel’s face turned the color of the hot pink shirt she was wearing as she threw her hands on her hips. “Well, I never!”

  Donnie stepped past her and the neighbor and headed toward the tree. Diana watched Mabel as Mabel watched Donnie walk around the tree, dramatically inspecting each pair of freshly painted handcuffs as though he were trying to pick the perfect one.

  “What is he doing now?” Mabel demanded, her arms now folded across her chest.

  “Every pair has a specific…use, shall we say. The one he picks is important.”

  “Oh, good lord! What is wrong with you people?” Mabel glared at her, but made no move to leave. Obviously the old woman was intrigued. Diana wondered how long it had been since Mrs. Guthrie took a tumble through the sheets. Diana smiled at the thought.

  “What are you smiling at?” Mrs. Guthrie snapped. “You’re the one married to a deviant!”

  Detective Donnie Massey was a lot of things, but a deviant wasn’t one of them. If anyone in their marriage had a problem with sex, it was Diana. Not that she considered her little hobby a problem. Donnie plucked a pair of handcuffs from the tree and grinned at them as he twirled them on his finger. “I’m good now, baby. You staying for a while, Mrs. G? Diana can fix you some sweet tea.”

  “I—I never! Oh! You people are crazy!” She turned and hurried back toward her own house, but not without one last glance at Donnie, and then the tree. By the time she hit the end of the driveway, Mrs. Guthrie had her cell phone to her ear. Half the block would hear the story before dinner. As soon as the other woman closed her front door, Donnie and Diana dissolved into laughter.

  “Poor Mrs. Guthrie! She will never look at us the same way again!” Diana managed to say between bouts of laughter.

  “I wonder if we should have told her the truth?”

  “Nah. She never would have believed that you painted them red simply so you could identify them as yours. That is too mundane for her to accept.” Together they walked over and gathered the rest of the handcuffs and then headed back toward the house. Donnie dangled a pair from one of his fingers and offered a sly grin.

  “You know, I still have an hour before shift. You got any plans?”

  Diana slugged him lightly on the arm. “You propositioning me, Officer?”

  “Why yes, ma’am, I believe I am.”

  “Will it get me out of a ticket?”

  “I can put it on your tab.” Donnie opened the front door and waited as Diana passed through before he followed her. It still amazed her that, even after twenty years, Donnie treated her like they were still dating—like he was still trying to win her heart.

  “Mmm…okay. A girl never knows when she might have to cash that in.” Diana stood up on tip-toes and planted a kiss on her husband’s lips. The handcuffs fell to the floor with a crash as he scooped her up in his arms and headed toward the stairs.

  “Am I under arrest, Officer?”

  “You can be sure of that.” Her husband kissed her as he made his way to their bedroom. Donnie was so focused on what his tongue was doing that he missed the top step and they tumbled to the floor. They dissolved into laughter again.

  “Are you okay?” Donnie asked, inspecting her for injury, picking up each of her arms one at a time and leaving a trail of kisses from her wrist to her shoulder.

  “I’m fine,” Diana answered, wrapping her arms around her husband, trying to pull him close.

  Donnie turned serious as he peered down at her where she lay on the hallway floor. “I’m sorry. I should have been more careful.”

  As lighthearted as he could be, her husband was still as straight-laced as they came. Diana reached up and touched his cheek. “I’m fine, Donnie, really.”

  “Are you sure? Does anything hurt?”

  Oh, something hurt all right, but not anything he could fix with a Band-Aid or an ice pack. She pulled his lips to hers and held him tight. Donnie resisted for the briefest of moments before he deepened the kiss, and Diana started to ache even more. After more than two decades together, Donnie’s touch still set her on fire—especially when his hands did what they were doing right then. Somewhere in the back of her mind, the sound of the front door opening registered.

  “What the—? Mom! Dad! Ewww! What are you two—? Yuck!”

  Donnie groaned against her lips. “Jackson,” they whispered at the same time as Donnie rolled off of her and mumbled. “I’m going to hit the shower.” His face was crimson as he all but ran to the master bathroom.

  Diana pulled herself up so that she sat on the top step and looked down at her son. Jackson looked like he might vomit. “Hi, son.” She didn’t even try to hide her grin.

  “Don’t hi me, Mom. What were you and Dad doing? And why are all these handcuffs all over the floor?”
>
  Diana laughed. “Relax, Jackson. Your father and I are human, you know.”

  “Human, yes, but horny? That’s gross.” Jackson scowled and pushed the pile of cuffs over to the wall.

  “What? You thought we lost interest in each other once we had you? I hope your marriage doesn’t go like that.” Diana pulled herself to her feet and started down the stairs. She had a bit of an ache on her backside where it had hit the floor, but other than that the only real ache she felt would go unfulfilled until Donnie got off duty later that night. “I wasn’t expecting you home until late.”

  “I’m just here to grab something. I didn’t expect to find you and Dad doing it on the floor.”

  “Jackson! We were kissing! You going to tell me you never kiss anyone?”

  “It’s not the same. You two are old!”

  “Old, huh?” She ruffled her son’s hair. “You should hope you grow old as gracefully as your father and I have.”

  “Whatever, Mom.” Jackson kissed her on the cheek and bounded up the stairs. Diana heard the water in the master bathroom turn on, so she headed to the kitchen to make some tea and pack a lunch for Donnie.

  A minute later, Jackson called out to her, “‘Bye, Mom! I’ll see you later!”

  “What? No kiss goodbye for your mother?”

  “I’m sure Dad will take care of that!” The front door closed and Diana smiled to herself. It was hard to believe Jackson would be graduating and going to college the next year.

  “What are you smiling at?” Donnie appeared in the kitchen, wearing his khakis and holding his shirt and tie.

  Her eyes roamed across her husband’s bare chest. One would never know Donnie was sitting in the dreaded realm of middle age if they saw his trim frame and strong, well defined chest and shoulders. He was as good looking now as he had been the day they met. Maybe better. Like a fine wine, he had aged very well. She slipped around the counter and sidled up behind her husband. Rubbing her hands across the muscular surface of his back, she placed a kiss just below his shoulder blade.

  “I was thinking about Jackson, and how he will never get the image of us making out on the floor in the hall out of his mind.”

  Donnie turned and pulled her into an embrace, kissing her forehead. “He’s a good kid. He will get over it.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. It’s okay if he doesn’t. He has to know we are people too, not only Mom and Dad.”

  “I have to get ready and get out of here now, but we will pick up where we left off when I get off duty tonight.”

  “You can bet on it, cop man.”

  Donnie finished dressing while Diana made him a sandwich to take to work. When he was gone for the evening, she headed to the living room to watch a little television before her shift. It used to take her hours to prepare for her job, but it had become like riding a bike. The four hours passed quickly now, a fact she was grateful for. It took her mind off of Donnie’s absence for a while, anyway.

  When it was nearly nine o’clock, she headed into her office to get ready for the first phone call of the night.

  Like clockwork, the phone rang at nine on the dot. “Misty Dawn here. Tell me how you like it, sugar.” The southern drawl that had become her trademark rolled right out as she slipped into character.

  “I like it hot, baby.” The raspy voice groaned in her ear.

  “I bet you do. What’s your name, sugar?”

  “It’s uh, Joe. Yeah, Joe. What are you wearin’ tonight, Misty Dawn?”

  “Oh, you know, sugar. Just a little lingerie.”

  “Is it black?”

  “Do you like black?”

  “Oh, yeah. And lacy. I bet it’s covered in lace.”

  “How ever did you know, sugar?”

  “Because you southern gals act so sweet and innocent, but I know you are as dirty as you are sweet.”

  “You like dirty girls, Joe?”

  “Oh yeah, baby.” She could hear his breathing grow heavier and more labored. After ten years as a phone sex operator, she had learned to not imagine what the caller did as she offered up the appropriate descriptions—a few key words, a couple of well placed come-on phrases, and the caller usually did the rest.

  “Well, this little ol’ dirty girl is takin’ off that black, lacy lingerie right now.”

  “Tell me, Misty Dawn.” Joe groaned.

  “Are you sure you’re ready for me, big guy?”

  “I’m ready. Oh, I’m so ready. As ready as Donnie was.”

  “Donnie? Wait! What?”

  “If only he knew how to keep his nose out of other people’s business.”

  “Who is this?” Diana demanded, losing her work persona.

  The line went dead.

  “Damn it!” Diana slammed the phone down on her desk. Immediately it rang again. She grabbed for it, hoping it was Joe again.

  “Hello!”

  “Uh, hello?”

  Crap. It was another client. “This is Misty Dawn, what’s your pleasure, sugar?”

  While Earl told her about his fetish for black nylons and little plaid skirts, Diana grabbed her cell phone and typed out a quick message to her husband.

  Diana: You all right?

  A few seconds later, the phone vibrated in her hand with a message from Donnie.

  Donnie: 4

  Thank God. That was Donnie’s code for everything was fine—as in 10-4. She let out a long breath, feeling her racing heart slow almost instantly. She wrapped up the call with Earl and kept an eye on her cell phone for the rest of her shift. When the last call came in, like it did every Saturday night, she had all but forgotten about the man who called himself Joe. She smiled when she heard the caller’s voice. Poor Leo. He had to be the loneliest man alive. It took him all of five minutes to get himself all worked up.

  “Ohhhh, Leo. Tell me, sugar—is that how you like it?”

  “Oh Misty, yeeessss. That’s the way. No one does it for me the way you do, Misty Dawn… oooohhh…”

  “That’s right, sugar, let Misty Dawn make you feel good.”

  He let out a long, deep groan. Leo never needed much prompting to get the job done. Diana listened as he panted on the other end of the phone line. Poor Leo was one of her regulars. He called in, like clockwork, at half past twelve every Saturday night. His first call had come in three years ago, shortly after his wife of forty years passed away. She almost felt guilty taking money from him. A few well-placed adjectives, a couple of syrupy compliments, and a moan or two threw Leo into the throes of complete ecstasy. It felt like taking candy from a toddler. Not quite right.

  “You know I love you, Misty Dawn.”

  He always said the same thing. Her voice was sugary and smooth, thick with the southern accent she had adopted for her part-time job when she replied,“Yeah, baby, I know you do.”

  “You have a good week, doll.”

  “You too, big man. Take care of yourself.”

  She disconnected the call and signed off for the night. Diana only ran her line on Saturday nights from nine until one in the morning. Leo was always her last call. She probably should have dropped the gig a long time ago, but she had sort of become attached to it. Her husband, a detective with the Virginia Beach Police Department, worked nearly every Saturday night. Talking to the guys kept her busy, and she made a decent haul for only four hours of work. Her great grandmother had always insisted a lady needed a little money of her own…just in case.

  “What the hell was that?” Donnie bellowed from the doorway.

  Diana spun around in her chair so quickly, it tipped backward and she sprawled onto the floor. Her husband made no move to help her up. He looked at her, his expression a mixture of absolute horror and rage. She jumped to her feet, tossing a quick glance at the clock on her desk—barely one in the morning. Donnie wasn’t due home for another hour at least.

  “Donnie! What are you doing home so early?”

  The horror slipped away as his mood morphed into full blown rage. Donnie clenched his fists and to
ok a step toward her. “Pretty sure that is not the question we need answered right now! Who the hell is big man and why were you talking dirty to him on the phone?”

  Diana steeled herself. This confrontation had worried her for years, and now here it was. All the blood rushed from her brain to her abdomen. Lightheaded, she swayed a little on her feet, catching herself with the corner of the desk. “How…how long have you been standing there?”

  “Long enough!” Donnie bellowed again. This wasn’t going to be pretty.

  “He is—he’s no one. Just a guy.”

  “Just a guy?” Donnie demanded. “She said ‘just a guy.’ Well, that makes me feel a whole lot better! You need a hell of a lot more of an explanation than that, Diana!”

  “Can you please calm down, Donnie? It’s not what you think.” He was angrier than she had ever seen him in twenty years together.

  “Not what I think? I walk in and my wife is having phone sex with some guy she calls ‘big man,’ and it’s not what I think!”

  “Do you have to repeat everything I say?” Her own anger began to build.

  “I haven’t repeated everything, now have I, Di?” The words came out in a low growl. His eyes had started doing that bulging thing where he looked like the fancy goldfish Jackson kept in a bowl in his room. Donnie had far surpassed angry when that happened.

  “Look, I wasn’t talking dirty to him. Okay, well, I was, but not in a sexual way…”

  “It sure as hell sounded sexual to me!”

  “Donnie! Would you just listen to me and stop treating me like some perp you arrested?”

  “Diana…” His voice held a warning. The same warning she knew it held when he pulled in a crack dealer or a drunk driver that had fled a hit and run.

  “Would you please sit down and let me explain?”

  He folded his arms over his chest. “I’ll stand. You start talking. Now!”

  She sighed heavily. All these years, she never really expected this to happen. “I was talking dirty, but not to get turned on. It’s my job, Donnie.”