Free Jump The Line (Toein' The Line Book 1) by Mary McFarland

because whoever knows Detective Hawks gets the added gift of being stalked by me. 
    Do c’ s ran for election years back to impress Detective Hawk s ’ mom.  An alcoholic, he could n’ t even get a job as dog catcher.  The detectiv e’ s mother, the love of Doc Smalle y’ s life, shunned his ass.  Even though he was scion of the wealthy Smalleys, she blew off young Doc Smalley.  He subsequently ran for coroner and won, and h e’ s been doing two things ever since.  One is getting re-elected.  The other is pursuing Babbs, that over-the-hill sour silly bitch, who for some reason still makes the pricks of old bats like Doc Smalley stand up, and belch and growl.  
    The old couple scurry off, shooting me heated glares.
    “ Bye-bye ,” I say, smiling and waving like I’ m their favorite grandson.  The last thing I want is Detective Hawks spotting me, not that he would: Doc Smalle y’ s yakking away, got him distracted. 
    “ Tell Babbs I’ ve been looki n ’ at an Arabian over in Lexington ,” he bawls across the dining room ,“ and I’ ve found one sh e’ s going to lov e —” 
    Looking anxious to get the hell out of here and avoid Doc Smalley, Hawks scours Arne e’ s, searching for the owner, Nick LaFiglia. 
    Heh-heh.  Cute how my detective-king avoids his daddy, well, his biological daddy.  I’ m fond of Doc Smalley.  I’ ve been keeping him busy, busy, busy down at the morgue.
    “ Have you taken that Ferrari out for a spin yet ?” Doc bawls.
    Several diners stop eating to see what Hawks will say.  The detective looks flummoxed.  The do c’ s an embarrassing ass, pure and simple.  But tha t’ s Doc.  He says and does the damndest things.  Six years ago, when his bastard son joined NPD, I bet Detective Hawks had no idea the coroner was his daddy.  Allege d— daddy.   No on e’ s sure, and I’ ve not been able to verify it online or at the court house.  I t’ s just one of many rumors floating around Newpor t’ s upper echelon like farts in a hot tub.
    The blonde cop sashays closer.  I step back.  After mom and pop left, I swapped my spot for a new one behind a statue.  Real marble.  Looks like Venus, but not half as pretty as Alaina. 
    Alaina.   If she only knew wha t’ s in store for he r— but tha t’ s for later. 
    Detective Hawks avoids going over to talk with Doc Smalley about the Arabian stallion, or the Ferrari, a gift for his birthday.  The do c’ s always trying to buy his bastard so n’ s affection with family money.  It really pissed Detective Hawks off when he found the car sitting in that fancy building he lives in downtown.  Worse, Doc used his influence over Babbs to gain entry to the garage.  Maybe she feels sorry for Doc.  She does shit like that for him, the same way sh e’ s always trying to hook Detective Hawks up with her friend s ’ daughters. 
    “ You need a wife ,” I heard her tell him once.
    “ Wife ? ” 
    Ba-ha!  The look on her baby bo y’ s handsome face.  “I’ ll make it another twenty-seven years without one ,” he said.  “ Besides, Mother, I’ m too busy restoring Hawk s ’ Opera House for you to worry about a wife . ” 
    That remark pissed Babbs, lemme tell ya.  She wants the opera house turned into a community theatre for disadvantaged girls.  Maybe she can get one o f‘ em to marry her baby boy, so she can start validating her existence, calling hersel f“ grandma . ”   One thin g’ s for sure, Babbs Hawks gets what she wants.  I imagine our gain if she ever decides to come over to the dark sid e —
    “ I t’ s your fault I have no time to look for a wife ,” the detective told her that night, when he found the Ferrari plunked in his garage.  I’ ve never seen such exquisite upper-crust family dysfunction as I did when they argued.
    When the blonde babe steps within inches, I act like I’ ve just left the me n’ s room.  Keeping my head down, I bump into her, giving her my head-on body