Adam, Enough Said (This Can't be Happening) (2 page)

I stood, towered over her and ordered, "Outside."

She nodded and quickly stood. People stared at us and I glared back. None of this was any of their fuckin’ business.

I started as soon as we made it outside. "Breena, this is my mother's funeral. We're not friends. I'm married. This is my life and you have no place in it.”

Breena's eyes hit the floor and she shook her head. “I'm sorry. I don't know why I came. I guess I just wanted to be here for you
, in case you needed someone. I just..." she paused and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. For everything," she finished softly, her tone laced with guilt, and I squeezed my eyes shut.

I did need someone, but it wasn’t Breena.

When I opened my eyes, I sighed as I caught Breena watching me wearily. "You're a good person, and I know your intentions were in the right place by coming here, but there will never be anything between us. Do you understand?" I asked in the nicest possible tone I could to soften the blow.

Her shoulders sagged and she glanced away
, before nodding. "I understand," she whispered.

Then, out of nowhere, she threw herself at me and hugged me around the waist. I held my hands in the air
, not knowing what to do.

"I know you don't think you helped me, but you did," she rushed. "No one has ever done anything for me in my life. I just want to be your friend." She let me go, backed away and I stood there
, stunned. "I don't have any friends...I never have. I don't want anything more from you. I'm really, really sorry about your mom, and your wife. Hopefully she’ll come to her senses," she finished with a sad smile, turned on her heel and walked away.

I watched her go as I stood there in disbelief.

When I finally decided to walk back inside, I was even more furious with Mia than before. Some chick I didn't even know came to give her condolences and show support, but Mia didn't even have the decency to show the fuck up.

Well, I was done grieving the loss of Mia.

Chapter One

Present Day

Adam Bryant

Thirty-One Years Old

Bitches be fuckin’ crazy
.

All of 'em.

And this one was about to drive me out of my goddamn mind, and I hadn’t even seen the little redheaded terrorist yet. So, why I let her flip the switch on my nerves with one single phone call…I’d never know.

I sighed as I exited the elevator and stepped onto the second floor, the floor I saw every damn day
, because the division I worked in - Homicide - was located here.

My gut was tight. I was pissed as hell and miles beyond stressed. I was also worried
, and I wanted to kick my own ass for feeling that way about a woman who wanted nothing to do with me.

When I stalked past the receptionist desk, caught her smirk, the noose around my intestines cinched to unbearable pain.

Ulcer. I'm gonna have a motherfuckin' ulcer at thirty-one
.

I walked into the main open room, past the numerous brown desks and glared at all the gawking, grinning faces that belonged to the jackasses sitting behind them.

I wasn’t a genius, but any moron would know that they knew, and I knew that they knew I had a wife. I also knew, just
knew
it'd been too much to hope that Mia would keep her yappy trap shut. When I'd called in the favor to my Lieutenant, I hadn't given him any explanations as to why I wanted her out of jail, mainly because I hadn't wanted him to know. I'd also assumed Mia wouldn't have wanted anyone to know about that tidbit of our history together, but I'd obviously assumed wrong.

Now, I was screwed
; especially when the shit talking started. My night was about to get worse.

"Well, well, well! Looky, here. What happened, Romeo? Couldn’t keep it in your pants long enough to keep her?"

Garza…on my fuckin’ list.

"Unh uh, G. I know what happened, dick was too small. What…couldn’t keep it up long enough to
finish the job,
sanchito
?"

Torres…also on my list…before Garza.

"Nahhh, dick can't be too small when you don't
got
one at all. I bet it was all that natural she was rockin’. Red hair and big boobs…you know our boy here don’t
do
natural."

Johnson…my partner...when I become a murderer, she’s at the top of my motherfuckin’ list.

See what I mean, all of 'em women, all of 'em bitches and all of 'em crazy.

I glared at Johnson specifically, my eyes letting her know that she'd just crossed the line into the danger zone, but do you know what
she did?

She laughed.

"Shut the hell up, Johnson," I growled, and she threw her head back and laughed harder.

I groaned.

If it were any other time, I’d have let her have it every which way past Sunday, but the drive here had taken long enough and I was too anxious to get to Mia to waste my time going back and forth with her, or Torres or Garza...the two, evil, trash talking, blood sucking wenches that would eat you alive with a spoon, lick their lips and smile when they're done.

"I don't know what the hell took you so long,
Bryant, but that little redhead is
fur-i-ous
and I want her out of this building. She's been cursing you black and blue for the past hour and a half, boy!"

I heard chuckles from the officers nearby and I glared at my Lieutenant of nearly four years, more than ready to rip his head off. I'd known walking in that he was going to give me shit
, because that was his life's mission and, right now, it was written clear as day on his pudgy, arrogant face.

Which only pissed me off more.

I didn't usually give the Homicide Division Lieutenant, David D. Torrance, better known as Lieutenant, also known as my boss, outside of work known as D.D., a one up on me, but this situation was clearly already out of my control. He gave me shit, I gave it to him better and we both knew how to take the verbal attacks, which were, more often than not, ruthless.

But I was not in the mood for his shit right now. Not only was I not in the mood to put up with his shit, none of this was any of his fuckin’ business, and I could see the questions lingering in his eyes as I moved close enough to stand in front of him.

"I don’t have time for this, old man. Where is she?" I demanded to know, my tone cutting and much gruffer than I'd intended, but he clearly took no offense. Instead, he grinned. I wanted to wipe that grin clear off his face with my fist. At that moment, I didn't care that I considered the Lieutenant a father figure.

"Boy, where do you think she is?" The Lieutenant responded condescendingly before tilting his head to the side and answering his own question, "In. My. Office. Right where you asked me to keep her until
your slow ass could get here."

Smart ass.

"I told you I was in Centerville for a wedding. I got here as fast as I could," I told him, and he didn't respond right away. Instead, he pursed his lips and glanced away, a sign I knew meant he was thinking hard, preparing to give me my next lecture. I crossed my arms over my chest and waited until his eyes, now serious, came back to me.

He kept his voice low and out of ear shot of the others around when he spoke next. "She’s been sweet as pie to me and every other officer she’s come in contact with, but she’s made it clear that she hates you. I’m surprised she even brought your name up to Officer Corneal with the way she's been talking about you. Anytime your name has been mentioned, she goes she-devil and her horns come out. The hair fits.”

I sighed.

“Now, again, you’re lucky she only seems to have it out for you, or else Officer Corneal wouldn't have done me a solid and let her out. Of course, it also helped that she's pretty as fuck..." he muttered that last part and my whole body solidified.

“D.D.--” I began to warn, but he talked over me.

"Corneal even said the little thing went willingly and had a smile on her face when he picked her up at Shark's for fighting."

Shark's? Fighting? And why did he just call her ‘little thing’ like she was a cute puppy instead of a dragon that spits fire?

"But
, she's had a lot to drink and a lot of time to think."

I groaned audibly, knowing this seemingly one-sided conversation was about to get worse.

"Right now," the Lieutenant shook his head, "that little thing in there is not too happy. She regrets calling you for one, but she’s got it in her head that you changed your mind and weren't gonna show, no matter how many times I told her you were gonna be awhile. She thought I was gonna lock her back up."

His voice, if possible, dropped lower. "Now, I don't know what the hell is going on between you and her 'cause you don't usually share personal shit, but I gotta say, when you called me and asked for the favor, I called Corneal to find out what the hell I was getting myself into.”

I sighed again and rubbed a hand down my face.

He shook his head and continued. “He said a woman named Missy…” I cringed at the name. “…called nine-one-one saying she’d just been attacked inside Shark’s Bar & Grill. Corneal and Officer Thomas took the call, showed up and met with Missy outside the bar. Her clothes were disheveled and she had bruising on her right cheek.”

I was sure that bitch deserved it, but I didn’t say it out loud.

“Thomas took Missy's statement. Then, Corneal met with your redhead, who didn’t have a hair out of place, but she confirmed, ‘happily’ - Corneal’s words - that she’d been in the cat fight with this Missy girl. Corneal took redhead's statement. Missy decided to press charges so Corneal had to arrest your redhead. That’s when redhead told him that she was married to one Mr. Adam Bryant with HPD, ‘sweetly and with a smile on her face,’ - again Corneal’s words.”

“He said he freaked, because she also had your last name, so he looked her up, and to his surprise, found out she was yours. Now, after he enlightened me with all this info, I thought surely Corneal had been smokin’ somethin’ on the crazy train, until I looked her record up for myself. Then, when I talked to the little redhead in person, and she confirmed, I thought
I’d
been smokin’ somethin’ and just couldn’t remember what or when.”

He paused, and then perked up. “Oh, and Corneal added that the redhead backtracked the moment he mentioned calling you. She started saying she didn’t know you, but he made her call you anyway, which is what Corneal said ‘started her pissy mood’. When I went to get her and introduced myself, she was sweet, but pissed when I reassured her that you were on your way. Since she’s been in my office, I’ve heard various versions of how much she hates you and why, and a number of vivid descriptions of all the ways she’d like to do you bodily harm. And as strange as it may be, it sounded pretty damn sexy comin’ outta that mouth of hers. Now, what I wanna know is…why the hell didn't you ever tell me you were married?"

Fuck.
Fuck!

I dropped my arms to my sides, fisted my hands, narrowed my eyes and growled so low, the sound rumbled deep in my throat. This was none of his business; there wasn't enough time in one day, and I damn sure wasn't about to start telling my story at a police station, especially the one I worked out of.

"It was a long time ago and there's no story to tell. So if you don't mind, I have some business to take care of with a five-foot-three terror of a woman." Then I muttered under my breath, “Little thing my ass.” I ignored the genuinely confused look on the Lieutenant's face, edged around his uncomfortable stance and headed to his office.

My hand reached for the doorknob, and right before I turned it, I heard the Lieutenant say through a rough chuckle, "That why you won't divorce her, boy? ‘Cause it was a
mistake?
"

I froze, my muscles painfully tight, my back unnaturally rigid and I quickly thought about asking him what else my little
wife
had said, but I instantly decided against it.

Blazing, fury-filled, dark green eyes met mine as soon as I entered the office.

"Finally! Will you get me out of these fucking things?" Were the first words that flew out of her pouty mouth. I listened and watched, with deceivingly calm composure, as the handcuffs rasped against
the material on the arm of the chair she was handcuffed to. She jerked her wrist a few times to express precisely what she wanted to get out of, but again, I ignored her.

I closed the door purposefully soft and leaned my back against it. I crossed my arms over my chest and disregarded the ache in my gut -
or was it my heart - that came from hearing her voice and seeing her face after not having heard or seen either for years.

Well, technically the last conversation - more like shouting match - that I'd had with Mia was only a few months ago outside her apartment, but it hadn't been a good one, because I'd seen her with Ryan - the psychotic ex-boyfriend of my sister-in-law Lex, the ex-boyfriend that beat and nearly raped her over two and a half years ago - at a grocery store and I
might
have gone ballistic.