Cocky Cop: Wyatt Cocker (Cocker Brothers Book 23) Read online

  Cocky Cop

  Cocker Brothers - Book 23

  Faleena Hopkins

  Contents

  Wyatt Cocker

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  40. Epilogue

  Glossary of Cocker Family Members From This Book

  Cocky Fun

  About the Author

  There’s a higher form of happiness in commitment. I’m counting on it.

  Claire Forlani

  Wyatt Cocker

  Prologue

  PROLOGUE

  One wrong choice could change my life forever.

  I want out of here, away from Lou and Toby and from the period of my life where parents and teachers get to tell me what to do.

  Being fourteen sucks.

  And I need better friends.

  Someday I’ll take this Cocker confidence I was trained since birth to believe in, and apply it to a perfect life of my own making where nobody gets to tell me what to do. Ever.

  My freedom.

  That’s what I want.

  Free.

  Dom.

  Mine.

  Which is why I snuck out of the house to hang with these two lug nuts. Regretting that now though. Big time. Toby sways too much when he’s nervous. But anywhere Lou goes, Toby follows. Why am I the caboose on this train to loser-ville? My blood is telling me this is all wrong. Nobody in my family chose a criminal path.

  My uncles have been known to be in jail from time to time. Not my dad who was a Marine and played by the government’s book. He’d love me to go down that path when I’m old enough. But that’s neither here nor there.

  The jail time for my uncles, that was for good reason.

  The best reason.

  Defending the family’s honor.

  Their woman’s honor.

  Their own.

  Stealing?

  That we don’t do.

  If we want something we go after it. Any man in this family who’d let me listen in on their conversations taught me that. They didn’t say it frankly. It was implied. By osmosis and curiosity I studied my Uncles Jake, Jaxson, Jett, Justin and Jason, and of course Dad whose tactics for getting Mom’s attention are usually based in humor, and clearly work.

  And even Grandpa Michael, though he’s an old guy, he hasn’t lost his swagger and Grandma always looks at him like he’s a god.

  I want that.

  From every girl I meet.

  I have one ambition that gets me into more trouble than Lou and Toby are currently trying to. I’m exaggerating but not by much.

  Girls.

  Hanging with these two guys assists me in that arena, hence our friendship even though I’m constantly scratching my head at their low-level thinking. Still, the three of us walking through school halls turns beautiful heads, that adorable whisper-giggle following right after. It’s like fuel.

  They’re on the football team. Needed by a coach full of ambition, both plucked from the hallways on day one, planted in practice where they high-fived their luck. Despite us being only Freshmen they are huge.

  I’m not there yet.

  When I look in the mirror all I see is a scrawny, incredibly handsome kid. My body needs to catch up to my face.

  Shadows darken the already eerie alley as Lou sneers like a future felon, “C’mon Wyatt, don’t be such a pussy!”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing, instead of the gold God put on Earth to give our lives meaning.”

  Toby agrees, “Cocker’s right!” smacking Lou’s arm and hoping for a smile that confirms what he thought was funny. But he’s not getting that tonight.

  Lou announces in a loud voice, “You’ve never seen a pussy in your life!”

  “I’m waiting for Prom.” I’m not waiting for Prom. “And neither have you, so don’t act all—”

  He snaps at my face to shut me up. With a gleam I barely recognize, he informs me and the chirping cicadas, “A lot you know! I’ve seen plenty.”

  Toby challenges, “Oh yeah, who?”

  “My old babysitter and I hooked up two years ago a bunch of times.”

  Toby’s jaw slackens, which makes me realize he didn’t know this odd fact, and from the look in his otherwise dull eyes, he’s wondering why it remained a secret for so long. “Seriously? You were twelve. She’s like twenty-five.”

  “So?”

  Toby blinks a few times to gather his stance.

  A weird feeling hangs heavy in the air as nobody says diddly.

  Why didn’t Lou brag about that to his best friend when it happened? If anyone would have, it’s Lou.

  He ducks his head to pick the lock.

  We’re really breaking into this store? This is so bad. Toby and I exchange a look but he’s such a follower he’s wondering who should be his leader. Not me. I’m my own leader. And I want out.

  My adrenaline flies.

  I glance around the alley.

  Skin prickling.

  We’re behind a row of small shops in Little Five Points, not far from where I live. We rode our skateboards here. Took less than seven minutes.

  There’s a guy sleeping in his own filth three dark doors down. I’m not sure what he cares about but it’s not us.

  At one time he was a teenager looking toward a future he hoped he’d be proud of, right? Nobody dreams of sleeping in an alley clutching a paperbag full of empty glass with your mouth’s DNA on it.

  Where do I get these ideas? My mom says I’m too wise for my own good. Can’t tell by my actions tonight.

  Stop beating yourself up.

  Get the fuck out of here!

  Frowning, I crane my neck to search harder for anyone who might witness this crime, kicking myself because sneaking out of my house sounded like fun.

  It’s almost five in the morning, eerily quiet except for two super creepy things: Lou’s stressed out heavy breathing and the scraping of metal against a lock that prefers keys.

  Get out of here.

  Leave.

  Go.

  Now.

  Backing away I mutter, “I’m out, guys.”

  Lou’s head turns from where he’s bent over, like something out of a horror movie because his voice is calm. “I’m just gonna grab the bong and then we’re all out. Hang tight.”

  He wants to keep me where he can see me. Under his thumb.

  I shrug, “If you want the bong, pay for it.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?”

  Shoving my hands in my jean’s pockets I shrug, “It’s not fun to steal. It’s shitty.”

  Lou rises up with an expression I recognize — the one right before he punches som
eone. I’ve never been on the receiving end before. Not a fan. “Wyatt, you’re really beginning to piss me off.”

  If we fight…not sure I’ll come out intact.

  The body heals.

  Self respect?

  Hard to mend.

  It’s not easy to hit a friend, so Lou’s heavy fist isn’t swinging as quickly as it normally would. His shadowy eyes narrow more.

  He’s going to slaughter me.

  I’m a goner.

  This is it.

  A feeling I’ve never experienced rises from my stomach.

  It’s beyond calm.

  A knowing.

  This is wrong.

  I can’t do this.

  I won’t.

  My choice.

  “Someone owns this, Lou.” I motion toward the store, my skin hot and tingling. “Like my parents own Crash and Burn. They put in a lot of hours to be successful. I’ve worked there, too. You know that — you visited during my shifts. My brothers and my sister have put in their time, right? You know them. Imagine them working behind the counter of this place just to keep it alive. Whoever owns this place, it’s the same thing.”

  Toby’s made the connection. If you picture stealing from my family then you’re just a pile of shit everyone should avoid being near.

  But something is different in Lou since he came back from summer break, traveling with his family. He always had a dark side, but now it’s taken up all of him.

  Light left.

  He leans close and those onions on his cheeseburger didn’t get better with age. “I’m sick of you looking down at me.”

  “I’m looking up. You’re literally taller.”

  “You know what I mean. You pick that lock right fuckin’ now or you know what I’m gonna do? Pull one of your teeth out and use that to get us inside.”

  The visual makes me sweat. He really is big enough to make that a reality. I swallow, my recently cracked voice deepening to say, “You wouldn’t do that.”

  “Try me, Wyatt. You have no idea what I would do.”

  I believe him. Lou doesn’t look like the dumb guy I used to call a friend. His eyes are pure danger. I want nothing to do with him, this break-in, or even Toby since they travel in pairs. But how do I get out of this without getting the shit kicked out of me? How do I explain to my parents why he attacked me? Would I even survive the beating? Instinct is telling me I might not.

  His eyes. So evil.

  There’s only one option.

  Do what he says.

  I stammer, “Fine, I’ll break-in. I’ll do it.”

  He hisses something and I can’t even hear him, heart pounding so loud it hurts.

  I inspect the lock. Lou hovers so close the hair on my arms stand at attention.

  I’m scared.

  Future flashing before me.

  My lungs like a vice.

  Anxiety itching my skin.

  Fingers not moving.

  Can’t think.

  Don’t want to steal.

  No.

  No.

  No.

  This isn’t me.

  He’s bent over, right behind me, watching the lock to ensure I’ll follow through. “What’re you waiting for, Wyatt?”

  I take a deep breath. “This.” My elbow shoots back and up and hits Lou’s chin so hard his teeth crack, head swinging. He grabs his mouth and bends forward.

  I bring that same elbow up high for speed since I don’t have his strength, and pound it where the back of his head meets the base of his neck.

  Nobody’s strong there.

  He falls into a heap, heavy and stunned.

  I punch his head. “I make my own choices!” I punch him again. And once more to make sure he stays down.

  Toby’s jaw has dropped to the gummed-dotted asphalt.

  Grabbing my skateboard, I jump on it, calling behind me, “I’m not a loser whose future disappears behind bars. I might be gorgeous, Lou, but I’m not dumb.”

  Chapter 1

  Present Day

  WYATT

  “Hey Cocker! What made you decide to be a cop?”

  Leaning against my locker, I smirk, “Long story.”

  “You gonna shine that badge all day or put it on?” Eudy asks.

  I steam the silver with my hot breath and smooth off a smudge with the clean cloth I keep handy for exactly this. Glimpsing the photograph of his wife as he slams his locker shut I ask, “You ogle Christy like she’s a pinup girl and have the audacity to razz me, Eudy? You’ve got your love, I’ve got mine.”

  Deputy Asante Washington went through the Academy with me and has been my partner ever since. His laugh breaks free, one of his best qualities. It could fill a stadium, and in an echoing locker room like this one, it rattles the rows, the benches, the florescent light fixtures.

  It always makes me grin, and this time is no exception.

  Eudy side-eyeballs the two of us. “My wife is a saint, sue me.”

  Washington drops his boot onto cement so scuffed it makes our janitor swear. “You ready to roll?”

  Pinning on my badge I smirk, “Been waiting for you to fix your hair.”

  He leans over for the mirror in my locker, inspecting the bald knob above his massive shoulders. “Wait, is it misbehaving again? Just like your mother?”

  I smack his chest with the back of my hand. “Don’t joke about my mom, dickhead.”

  He lumbers away, all six-eight of him. “You’d be surprised how many women like a man with two bald heads, Cocker.”

  My grin flashes as I slam my locker. “I wouldn’t know.”

  Eudy watches us go, wishing he had a better partner. Larter is a deadbeat, never carries his weight. If he were alone behind the wheel he’d pretend to be busy whenever dispatch summoned. Wouldn’t matter if he was parked in front of the address. Larter joined the Force for power. A lot of men and women do, but it’s how you use the power that differentiates one cop from another.

  One human being from another, too.

  Washington asks, “Got something on your mind?” as we stroll through the station.

  I lift a pen from Deputy Harris’s desk. She smiles, “Hey!” so I toss it back to her able catch, with a wink reminding her of last Friday night when I went down on her in a bar bathroom.

  Under my breath I confess to him, “Just thinking about last night, Washington.”

  “What’d you do last night?”

  “Ask your mother.”

  He guffaws so loudly it turns heads, inspiring smiles from desk-cops who wish they’d heard what was so funny. He tells my grin, “I knew you’d get me back for that. What I didn’t know was how soon you’d pounce!”

  “My dad always says, an element of surprise must be maintained.”

  We stroll out of here, but not before I share a heated glance with parole officer Adams. Those breasts would make a grown man kneel down and bark if she was naked and asked him to.

  I know.

  I did.

  It was a low, deep bark right into her…

  “Stop right there Cocker!”

  Washington waits with me as we’re approached by the woman in charge — Chief Linda Fiore — a muscular female you wouldn’t want to mess with in an argument or a fight. Not only could she kick the asses of most men I know, but her razor-sharp tongue can make your intellect feel smaller than the pre-cum on your cock.

  My smirk defies my better judgement. “Yeah, Chief? Not sure if I heard it right, but I think you called my name.”

  Or shouted it.

  But whatever.

  “Drop the smile, Cocker. I’m not in the mood.”

  “It’s a permanent fixture.” We stare at each other and I drop the smirk. “What do you need?”

  Since we’re in earshot of the desks, she marches to her office.

  It’s implied we’re to follow.

  Washington and I exchange a wary look, wondering what’s up. As my partner, he’s privy to anything the Chief’s got to say.

  In
her office he controls his natural strength, the click quiet as he shuts the door.

  Fiore assumes a strong stance behind her semi-messy desk. She just transferred in two months ago when our old Chief moved to Florida to care for his ailing mother. Guess Fiore’s still not caught up with the workload he left.

  “Being a police officer is about protecting and serving the people of our city. I take this very seriously.”

  “So do I. About the smirk…it’s who I am—”

  “—A badge isn’t a way to achieve stardom, Cocker.”

  I blink, “Sorry?”

  “I don’t find your fan club amusing. I’ve no doubt your enormous ego loves it, but put a stop to it.”

  I look at Washington.

  He shrugs.

  I turn back. “Sorry Chief, you lost me.”

  Her glare shifts to the screen where she points out a social media website with a group page titled: “Cocky Cop.”

  My lips fall open and I step up, click around, curiosity through the pressed-tin ceiling. Washington is also craning to look at candid photographs in themed posts.

  Pull Over Please hosts images where I’m issuing tickets on various roads within our beat.

  Coffee Time is me with my morning caffeine fix — in line, shaking two packs of sugar into a steaming cup, or carrying one to our navy-blue patrol car often while sliding sunglasses into place, trademark smirk where it should be.

  Drive Copper Drive is, of course, me behind the wheel.

  Washington mutters, “Damn, those zoom lenses on phones have gotten so good.”

  We glance to the sound of steam pouring from Fiore’s nostrils like a cartoon character only scary.