Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 71090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
I had to pass Blake’s car to get there, though, and that’s when I saw her.
She was sitting in the front seat, crying.
I shook my head and kept walking.
I couldn’t make myself get in, however.
I tried. I really did.
Valiantly, too.
But I was a sucker for crying women.
Just ask my mother and sister-in-laws.
Turning back, I walked to the car and tapped on her side window.
“You okay?” I asked warily.
She turned, rolling down her window, and the tears in her eyes nearly ripped my guts out.
“Yeah,” she nodded, wiping her tears. “I just got a call that my house was broken into again.”
She sniffled and wiped her hand across her face, wiping away the tears as best as she could without using a towel.
My stomach clenched. “Again, how do you know?”
She held up her phone up, and pressed play with her thumb.
“Blake, this is Janet Bowers with KPD. We’ve received another complaint that your front door was hanging open, and the neighbor suspected that someone was in there. Upon inspection, we found the place ransacked. We’d like you to come down to the station at your earliest convenience so we can file a report. We’ve locked your house back up, but since we were unable to get ahold of you, we’d like you to stop by.”
Fuck.
“Get out, let’s go,” I said suddenly, startling her.
Chapter 9
Remember, I’m a police officer. This story will need to have dismemberment in it for me to be surprised.
-Foster to the rookie
Foster
When she didn’t move fast enough, I offered her my hand.
She looked up at me¸ startled, but nonetheless got out of her car, placing her soft hand inside my rough one.
My hand engulfed hers as I closed my fingers around it and started hauling her towards my truck.
It was my pride and joy.
I’d wanted the truck since I’d been old enough to dream about trucks.
It was a midnight blue extended cab Dodge diesel with thirty nine inch tires and an eight inch lift.
It sounded like a large cat purring when it started up, and still made me giddy when I first got in.
The comical part, though, was watching Blake climb in the passenger side.
In the end, I offered her a lift up.
My blood started to pump forcefully to parts that I didn’t want it to be when my hands met the backs of her thighs, but I ignored it, and moved around to my side quickly.
The climb in was different with a prosthesis, but the concept was still the same. I just had to put all my weight on the real leg instead of the prosthesis. Something I’d had to learn to adapt to.
“Where are we going?” She asked quietly.
I started the truck, the rumbling purr vibrating my body softly.
“I have to go get fitted for my blade; but when I’m done, we’re going to the station,” I told her.
“Your blade? Like a new knife?” She asked worriedly.
I rolled my eyes, shooting her a peeved glance. “You don’t get measured for a knife, darlin’. ‘The Blade’ is a type of running prosthesis. I’m getting fitted for it today. Actually, I’ve already been fitted. I’m getting it. I just hope it fits. It’s uncomfortable as hell to run in the other one.”
I pulled into Dr. Morton Stonewell’s office twenty minutes later, and was sent straight back.
“Ahh,” Dr. Stonewell said. “If it isn’t my favorite patient.”
I grimaced. “There’s no reason to be so snotty.”
Blake giggled, covering her mouth with her hand to cover up the faux pas.
Dr. Stonewell winked at Blake and patted the padded bench with his hand. “Hop up here, boy. Get that off, let’s see what this fits like.”
Dr. Stonewell went into his office, disappearing inside. I sat down, took off both shoes, and then stood up once again to shuck my pants off.
“Eeek!” Blake said, turning around quickly.
I chuckled as I pushed them down to my knees, exposing my boxer briefs. Taking a seat on the padded bench, I started to work the rest off my prosthesis.
No matter how hard I tried, it always turned out to be harder than it should be.
They got caught on everything on my prosthetic leg.
“Need help?” She asked softly.
I glared and she held her hands up.
“Geez, it just seems easier to use your hands instead of kicking your leg to get it off,” she grumbled.
I barely stopped the smile that threatened to overtake my face.
So freakin’ logical.
I got them off just as Dr. Stonewell poured out of his office, my new leg in his hand.
Blake’s eyes widened as she saw it.
“That looks like a torture device,” she gasped. “What’s so special about it?”
“The Flex-Foot was designed to store kinetic energy. Almost like a spring does. It’ll allow Foster to do whatever he wants to do. Run, jump, sprint, climb bleachers, pole vault. He can do whatever he wants to with this particular blade. If he can dream it, he can do it,” Dr. Stonewell said animatedly.
I pressed the button at the base of my fake ankle, and pulled the old prosthetic off. Followed by the socks that filled in the prosthetic so I didn’t bottom out in it.
Finally, off came my sleeve that held the pin on my leg with a sort of suction type sock.
I made sure to keep an eye on Blake, taking in her reaction as I did.
Maybe if I let her see what she’d really get with me, she’d get over whatever I saw in her eyes, lately, when I was around. As if I was the answer to her prayers.
I wasn’t and she needed to know it.
“Wow,” Blake said, dropping down to her haunches at my feet. “Can I touch it?”
She looked genuinely interested, so warily, I nodded. “Sure.”
It felt weird, having her fingers running over my scar.
I didn’t have much feeling at the bottom, where the scar was, but as she moved her fingers up to the sides, I could feel a lot more of her touch.
Why I’d get turned on by her rubbing her fingers on my stump, I didn’t know, but I did.