Captured Again Read online

  Captured Again

  Book 2 of the LET ME go series

  L.L. AKERS

  Copyright © 2014 by L.L. Akers

  All rights reserved.

  Please do not share this e-book. It is against the law (and totally not fair to the author).

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission, or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Printing, 2014

  https://www.facebook.com/AuthorLLAkers?ref=hl

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, dead or living, business establishments, events or locales is coincidental.

  Cover Art and Design 2013 by Liliana Sanches, http://princess-of-shadows.deviantart.com

  Copy editing by: http://www.gatheringleavesediting.com/

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  DEDICATION:

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  Epilogue: | The Following Spring

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  THANK YOU!

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  DEDICATION:

  To all survivors, especially those suffering from the

  invisible illness, PTSD: Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

  You are not alone.

  And you can still have your happily ever after—it’s never too late.

  “THE world breaks everyone.

  It’s afterwards that some are strongest in the broken places.”

  ~Unknown

  CHAPTER 1

  “How much do I have to blow, officer?” she asked, flipping her long, chocolate-colored hair over her shoulder and putting her hands on her hips. She looked up at the sexy cop.

  “I’d say about five grand by the time you’re through,” the tall officer mumbled under his breath as he put the equipment back in its bag.

  “Excuse me? I didn’t hear you. Did I pass?” Emma stubbornly asked.

  He sighed, making it obvious he didn’t want to tangle with her anymore. Emma chewed on her lower lip. She wasn’t too drunk. She could see his patience wearing thin. She had, after all, demanded a do-over on every field sobriety test, whereas he’d tolerantly told her she’d failed again and again, until she’d been stupid enough to demand the Breathalyzer.

  The cop had been broody and mysterious through this whole thing, but strangely accommodating. She was still hoping she’d beaten him down enough he would just drop the whole thing with a warning, and they could both go home to bed. She really didn’t feel very drunk and he could see from checking her license she was only two miles from her apartment. It was just her luck getting pulled over on the one night a year she usually allowed herself a drink—or few.

  “No, ma’am, you did not pass. You blew just over the legal limit,” he said. The officer tilted down his chin, finally meeting Emma’s eyes again, and frowned.

  Emma crossed her arms, gripping her elbows as she stared up at the officer. She could feel her pulse picking up, speeding with her pounding heartbeat. Oh shit, he’s actually gonna take me in, Emma thought. This is for real. Maybe I’ll flirt. No, I am not flirting... I refuse to freakin’ flirt. Shit, shit, shit!

  She felt her temper flare and her mouth run before her brain thought it through. “Dammit! Let me blow again! Or... or can’t you just let me go? Just this once! I don’t even drink—usually—I mean, I don’t anymore... It was just this one night!”

  The officer pulled in a long breath, then slowly released it. “You’re also under the legal drinking age. I’m sorry,” he said while rubbing his hand through his hair.

  Emma brought her arms in tighter, crossed against her chest now. She drew in a deep, calming breath and looked away from him, speaking quieter. “I promise I’ll drive straight home... You can follow me. Just give me a break this one time,” she finally begged.

  The officer sighed heavily and fumbled with his equipment. He walked back to his cruiser and tossed it in and then turned to look at Emma, his jaw fixed and his hand hovering over his gun belt. She knew then he was taking her in; she just hoped he wasn’t reaching for the cuffs. This is so freakin’ humiliating.

  He slowly walked back and looked down at her sternly.

  “I am going to give you a break, miss. I’m going to walk over to the side of your car and hide your keys in that McDonald’s cup you see over there, in the ditch. And I’m going to give you one minute to pull out your phone to call someone to come get your car. That will save you the towing expense and a heap of trouble. When you finish the call, put your purse and any valuables in the trunk and don’t forget to hit the lock button.”

  “But... wait!”

  “Lock it up tight, or take your purse with you... your decision,” the officer called over his shoulder as he walked away with Emma’s keys.

  Emma stomped her foot.

  The officer marched toward the ditch while her brain scrambled through her options. Pulling out her phone, she chewed on her bottom lip while thinking about who would be the best person to help her out of this mess. It would have to be one of older sisters—the twins—because she didn’t have anyone else that would, or could, come get her after making such an epic, stupid mistake as this.

  Gabby would normally give her the most amount of hell but could probably break through any red tape faster than anyone. At least the old Gabby would—she’d always been the fixer, trying to fix everything for everybody, and the livelier of the two. Olivia was the calm twin—she tended to be passive. She knew there was no chance of Olivia arguing any charges. If there were any possibility at all of getting the charges dropped or of keeping her out of jail tonight, she’d have to just take her tongue-lashing from Gabby and hope for the best. But she could get Olivia to pick up the car and be the one to tell Gabby... Let her poke the bear.

  Emma peeked over her shoulder to see the officer now standing at the trunk of her car, arms crossed, alternating between watching her closely and looking down to kick at the loose pebbles of asphalt around his feet. She knew he was acting out of normal procedure; she could see that from his nervousness. At least she got lucky being pulled over by a young cop—not to mention a hot one—but she needed to hurry, before her luck ran out. She quickly called Olivia.

  The call connected and Emma closed her eyes and took a calming breath as she listened to it ring. Oh my God, what if she doesn’t have her phone near her? What if it’s charging in another room? Emma paced in short rows, throwing quick glances over her shoulder at the cop, trying to measure how much time she had... It rang several times. Just as it seemed it was going to roll into voicemail, she
picked up.

  “Hello?” Olivia answered sleepily.

  “Olivia, it’s me... Emma. Wake up. I need you and Gabby,” Emma blurted out.

  “Emma, this better be good. I had court all day today and again tomorrow at nine a.m.... I was up late all weekend, working on the case. What do you need?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m in trouble. I need you to call Gabby to pick you up and come get my car. It’s two miles south of my apartment... on the same road. The keys are in a McDonald’s cup in the ditch beside the car. Have Gabby drop you off there so you can drive my car to your house, and tell her to come straight to the police station and get me out.” Emma spit out her instructions as quickly as she could—and in one breath—before Olivia could start yelling.

  “What?” Olivia shrieked, wide-awake now. “What did you do? No... wait a minute. You’ve been drinking, haven’t you? I can hear it in your voice. For God’s sake, Emma, it’s after... it’s after midnight! When did you start that back up?”

  Okay... maybe not so passive... Shit! Emma looked up and locked eyes with the officer. He gave her a nod and started walking toward her. She would have to talk fast or Olivia might not come get her car—or her. Her sisters didn’t want her drinking at all, even if only once every year or so... Emma wasn’t sure what they would do. They just couldn’t understand how she sometimes gave in to the need to numb her pain. They worried too much—she wasn’t stupid enough to let it begin again... She couldn’t; she had too much to lose now.

  She quickly turned her back on the officer, hoping to get an extra moment to talk before he reached her. “Please, Olivia... just listen to me. I’m not really drunk. It was just a few drinks tonight—I guess a few too many. You know I have to face it once a year or so—remind it I still have power over it. So that’s what tonight was about, I know you don’t agree with the way I handle it, but it’s my way of celebrating my freedom... any maybe a little bit of mourning our loss tonight, too. I don’t know—” Emma’s gaze flicked upward. She knew she was babbling and the cop was behind her, only a few steps away. “Anyway, I know I screwed up tonight, but I got this. I do. It’s the first time in over a year, and I’m still in control. Olivia... Please believe me,” she begged, hoping to convince her sister.

  The line was silent... Emma waited another heartbeat.

  “Olivia! Say something... He’s coming! I gotta go... Please call Gab—”

  The officer reached over Emma’s shoulder and plucked the phone out of her hand, ended the call, and reached for her purse.

  “Geesh, could’ve let me finish there,” Emma grumbled under her breath as she slowly turned around to face him.

  He dropped the phone into Emma’s purse and handed it back to her.

  “Put it in the back floorboard. Stick it as far under the seat as it will go. You should’ve locked it in your trunk, but we don’t have time for that now. I’ve already called this in and we’re expected at the station shortly. Lock your doors. Let’s go.”

  Emma did as she was told, locking up her bag in her car, and quietly shut the door. Think, Emma... think, think, think! She slowly turned around, looking up at him with pleading eyes, knowing it was too late but still holding a little hope he might have mercy on her.

  “Please don’t take me to jail,” she shamelessly begged. “I’ll walk home from here.”

  “Ma’am, I’ve already been extremely lenient with you. Don’t make me cuff you and put you in the car like that. It’s mighty uncomfortable that way.”

  “All right, then!” Emma snapped, completely losing her composure as she realized defeat. She swiped at the ground with an angry kick, scuffing her cowboy boots and scattering loose asphalt pebbles of her own before stomping away toward the patrol car, her long hair bouncing with each step. When she reached the back of her own car, she hesitated, then twirled around and hauled off with a good kick to the side of it. Better to vent now than after the official arrest—she didn’t need any other charges.

  She definitely wasn’t feeling drunk now. If the finality of being arrested hadn’t sobered her up, her throbbing toes did. The officer gently turned her back around without a word, leading her to his car. She tried not to limp under his stare. She couldn’t believe she was actually going to be arrested, and she was seriously pissed.

  At the patrol car, waiting for him to open the door, her shoulders slumped forward, and she looked down at her feet, guilt washing over her for going out tonight and for drinking, always... always a bad idea for her, but especially right now. She wished for the thousandth time she’d have just given in to Rickey when he’d asked her to hang out with him and see a movie. If only she had, she might be home right now, where she should be, curled up on her couch—safe and out of trouble.

  This would be her first time going to jail. Her face felt the burn as heat followed her shame.

  CHAPTER 2

  After stuttering through her Miranda rights, all of which Emma seemed to indifferently ignore, Officer Rowan guided her into the car, his hand hovering over her head to be sure she didn’t bump it going in. Completely unconscious of what he was doing, his hand floated down, cradling the back of her head, as though it had a mind of its own. He’d wanted to sink his fingers into her hair since the moment he first saw her. Realizing his mistake, he quickly jerked back his hand.

  He could feel the heat in his cheeks as he looked down at her, waiting for her to settle in, and watched her gather up her hair, pulling it over to one side and bringing it around to her front, keeping it off of the back of the seat. She leaned forward, and he caught a glimpse of her tat—a scarlet dragonfly—completely bared by the thin straps and low back of the sundress she wore, innocently revealed by the graceful sweep of her hair—beautiful, almost magical. He didn’t have any tattoos of his own and really wasn’t into them... usually. But he was drawn to this one and all conscious thought of what he was doing disappeared for a moment.

  Emma settled herself, leaning back and daintily crossing her legs—now drawing his eyes to the tops of her tan, bare calves peeking out from her boots—and pulling the skirt of her dress over her naked thighs as she leaned back against the seat and then looked up at him hovering outside the door, staring down at her. She was stunning, tiny... and breathtaking.

  Emma stared back at him, not blinking. “So are you taking me in or what?”

  Officer Rowan shook his head, smiling at her consistent indignant attitude that conflicted with the elegant way she’d settled herself in, as if he were her driver taking orders from her. There’s a lot of layers to this chick, he thought.

  “Yes, ma’am, Miss Daisy, I’ll be happy to drive you,” he joked, receiving nothing but a scowl in return for his efforts.

  After making sure she was buckled in, he shut her door and hurried around to the driver’s side. He almost chuckled, thinking back to her last little display of temper. He was surprised she hadn’t fallen on her rump with that kick, but he’d stayed close enough to catch her if she’d lost her footing... and wouldn’t have minded doing just that. She was a little spitfire at just twenty years old and barely over five feet tall—according to her driver’s license.

  He was glad his dash-cam had stopped working the week before and the requisition process for a new one was so tedious and drawn out; he’d hate for his superior officers to see how much he’d let her get away with and how many do-overs he’d allowed her.

  The moment Emma had rolled down her window and he’d looked into those piercing blue eyes framed by her dark hair, she’d mesmerized him. He remembered pulling his eyes away long enough to see that her tiny hands gripping the steering wheel were naked—no ring.

  She had failed the first few sobriety tests, and he could’ve taken her in right then, but it was as though she’d put a spell on him. He’d enjoyed watching her wobble around in her sexy little dress and shit-kickers, as they were called back in Tennessee, where his family was originally from, and he’d really hoped she could convince him she was sober. He could have followe
d her the two miles to her apartment, just to be sure she’d made it safely, and possibly ended it with an exchange of phone numbers. Between his job and finishing his degree in criminal justice, he rarely had time to date, but for a girl like this one, he’d have made the time.

  But after the Breathalyzer, there was no doubt. She’d proven to him, and herself, that she’d broken the law, no matter that it was just barely over the limit. His department had zero tolerance for drinking and driving. His job—and possibly saving lives—was more important than scoring with a hot girl. If he let her go, she’d probably do it again. He couldn’t take that risk. It wasn’t his job to teach lessons, but it was his job to prevent drunk driving accidents.

  He glanced into his rearview mirror. Emma was biting her lip—but not crying. He had to hand it to her, most girls her age would be sobbing by now. He watched as she held her head high and didn’t shed a tear, accepting her consequence with poise. He had to concentrate on keeping his eyes on the road instead of the sensual pull of her front teeth nibbling her lip that kept drawing his eyes back to the mirror. He felt like shit having to take this girl in... and even worse, he knew he’d probably blown any chance he had with her.

  He cleared his throat, swallowing repeatedly, and tried to clear his head.

  “So... Emma, I heard you on the phone. Celebrating Independence Day, huh?” he asked over the constant squawk and chatter on the police radio, feeling an unusual—and unprofessional—need to break the deafening silence between them on their ride to the station and make her feel a little more comfortable. “Holidays are the worst for getting pulled for drinking and driving. You do realize we put out extra patrols? You should’ve had a designated driver, maybe one of your friends from college?”

  “No, I didn’t say I was celebrating Independence Day. I said I was celebrating my freedom—and mourning a loss,” Emma snapped while continuing to focus straight ahead on the back of the front seat, her chin held high. “And are you on a first-name basis with everyone you arrest?” she asked sarcastically.