Training Kemper [Hard Hits 7] (Siren Publishing Classic ManLove) Read online

  “Chief?”

  “Mind if we come in?” Chief Anderson asked.

  “Actually, I do. I was on the way out.”

  He fucking lied. He couldn’t believe he just lied to his police chief. Seeing his chief and the unknown guy standing on his front porch was like picking at the wound in his heart. He wouldn’t be going back to work anytime soon.

  “I wanted you to meet Shawn O’Leary. He trains in Tactical Defense with the police academy.”

  Shawn O’Leary was one of those guys who looked like they made physical fitness a lifelong priority. He was one who probably always looked good. Today was no exception. Dark sunglasses covered his eyes. Kemp could feel his hard stare despite the barrier of those shades. Kemp couldn’t shake the feeling of his hidden gaze giving him the once-over. All of a sudden, Kemper felt embarrassed about his appearance. Chief Anderson barged his way inside without being invited. He looked around the house, frowning deeply when he saw the chaos. Shawn followed him inside. He offered his hand.

  “Nice to meet you,” Shawn said.

  Kemp had the sudden urge not to touch Shawn. Against his better judgment, Kemper shook Shawn’s hand. A smile broke the corners of Shawn’s full lips. Warm fingers brushed against his palm as they pulled their hands away from each other.

  “Same,” Kemp murmured.

  The foyer was cramped, so Kemper eased back against the stairs to put some distance between him and Shawn. There was something frightening about the way Shawn was looking at him. Kemper pulled his gaze away.

  “I’ll make this quick,” Chief Anderson said.

  There was no way that Kemp could tell his chief to get lost. Kemper’s house was a big mess. He no longer cared about cleaning or eating or living life the way it once was. Takeout boxes were all over his kitchen and had spilled into the living room on the coffee table. In his defense, those were from the night before and they hadn’t been there for weeks.

  “I want to know why you haven’t returned any of my calls,” Anderson said. “Or emails.”

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “I see that.”

  Kemper didn’t care for his attitude or his judgment. “Why are you here?”

  “You need to talk with IA about the accident. Grant Hicks is up my ass about getting your statement.”

  Tension radiated down Kemper’s neck and through his shoulders. Kemp rubbed his neck as he sighed. He did not want to deal with Grant. The man was persistent as hell. A fucking bull with a bad attitude. “I’ve been meaning to contact him. I’ve been busy.”

  “Uh-huh,” Chief Anderson said as though he thought Kemper was full of shit. “Well, call him.”

  Guilt weighed heavily on Kemper’s mind. A small part of him felt as though the accident was all his fault. Had he not gotten out of the car, he was certain that he would still have his leg.

  “Is there something else you want?” Kemp asked.

  “I want you back at work.”

  “Not going to happen,” Kemp said.

  Chief Anderson frowned. “Why the fuck not?”

  Kemp couldn’t put voice to the demons now playing tag in his head. They felt too real and too scary to describe out loud. It was then that O’Leary decided to pull off those sunglasses to show off those Irish-blue eyes of his. His gaze was all over Kemp like he was his new project.

  Kemper pinned him with a hard fuck off stare that he started sporting after his accident. Something dark and dangerous passed through O’Leary’s eyes. Something possessive and, quite frankly, sexual zipped through Kemper’s body. Kemp pulled his gaze away from O’Leary and settled it safely back onto the chief.

  “You are to report for training at eight a.m. tomorrow morning,” Chief Anderson said.

  “I can’t.”

  “If you don’t show, I’ll fire your ass for insubordination.”

  This was his life and Kemper sure as hell didn’t like the way things were spinning so far out of control that he couldn’t bring them back in.

  “You can’t fire me.”

  Chief Anderson stepped in close. “Maybe I can’t, but I sure as hell can make your life hell if you don’t show up. Don’t push me on this.”

  A grin tugged at the corner of Kemp’s lip. “I’m already in hell, sir.”

  Compassion played within the Chief eyes as he considered Kemp’s words. “There are many layers of hell. You should check yourself before you go landing at the bottom.”

  The chief turned, whispering something into O’Leary’s ear before heading for the front door. O’Leary didn’t follow behind the chief like Kemp expected. The fucker stayed like he was invited to a party that he didn’t belong to.

  “Your training starts tonight,” Shawn said.

  “Excuse me?”

  He came in close. “You’ve spent the last four months letting yourself go. We’re going to spend the next two hours putting your house back together. Where are your cleaning supplies?”

  A white-hot flash of embarrassment and anger sped through his blood. Kemp did not need someone to help him clean up his mess. Most of all, he didn’t want someone who he didn’t know messing around in his house.

  “I don’t fucking think so.”

  “I’m not leaving,” Shawn said.

  No. He didn’t look like he would be easy to send away. Kemper sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I’m sure you have someplace else you’d rather be tonight.”

  “Not really.”

  “Fuck.”

  Kemper froze as Shawn reached for his cane. He took his cane away, forcing Kemper to readjust his balance. He fought the urge to grab hold of the banister.

  “We’re going to start your training now.”

  Kemper started to protest. “I need that.”

  “No you don’t. I’ve worked with several amputees. You need to let go and trust yourself.”

  “What if I fall?”

  Shawn glared. “What if you do? You won’t get stronger leaning against this thing. Now, where’s your cleaning supplies?” Shawn asked again.

  “In the kitchen pantry.”

  Shawn moved through his house as though he belonged there. Kemper’s old Victorian was once his grandmother’s. He bought it shortly after she moved into a nursing home. Over the last few years, Kemp had fixed the place up.

  Kemp went to grab the garbage bags from beneath the sink. Leaning down with his prosthetic wasn’t easy. Kemp gripped the counter, forcing his legs to balance. He grabbed the bags, but lost his balance when he went to stand. Shawn was right behind him, slipping his hand beneath his arm to help him up. Before Kemper could protest, he was back on his feet again and eye to eye with Shawn O’Leary.

  There was something that sparked within Shawn’s blue eyes. All the air in Kemper’s chest constricted. It was as though the big kitchen was suddenly too small. Shawn’s hand tightened on his arm. Kemper’s lips parted and his mouth went dry. The urge to kiss Shawn O’Leary was an overpowering desire chanting through his body. He mentally gave himself a face slap and reluctantly pulled his gaze away from those beautiful eyes. He needed to get away from Shawn before he did something stupid.

  “You’re welcome,” Shawn said.

  “Don’t fucking touch me.”

  Shawn edged in close, blocking him in against the counter without touching him. “Fine. Next time I’ll let your ass hit the floor.”

  Kemp felt his cheeks burn with the sting of shame. He looked away, unable to meet Shawn’s intelligent eyes again. Kemper gripped the sink as Shawn turned away. It was a really long time before he could turn around with the garbage bag. When Kemp finally looked, he found Shawn watching him.

  “Let me help you.”

  “I don’t need or want your help.”

  “Well, too bad. You have it. You might as well accept what you’re being given,” Shawn said.

  Kemp shook out the garbage bag, feeling like something that should be thrown inside of it. He hated feeling that way, but he just felt useless. He reached
for the takeout boxes on the counter and tossed them into the bag. Shawn grabbed boxes, too, tossing them away. It wasn’t long before the trash was collected and the dishes in the sink were loaded into the dishwasher. Kemp washed out the sink and went to find Shawn in the living room.

  He had straightened the throw pillows, and the blankets were neatly folded in a pile in the corner. Shawn must have gone upstairs. Kemp headed upstairs to find Shawn collecting his laundry in the basket in the hallway.

  “I can get that. You’ve done enough,” Kemp said.

  “I’ll leave when everything is straightened up and put away properly.”

  Shawn headed toward his bedroom. A zip of fear sprinted down Kemper’s spine when he thought about the magazine he left open on his nightstand. Not to mention the piles of paperback romance novels he bought at the bookstore. Kemper had always been a sucker for a happily ever after. It didn’t matter to him if it were gay romance or hetero. He liked reading it all. It was all about the love affair in his mind that turned him on.

  Kemper wasn’t out at work. The bodice-ripping romance novels could easily be explained away. The gay magazine was a completely different story. Magazines were his go-to for jerking off when he was alone. The paperbacks gave him the sense of romance he needed. For the love of God, Shawn was going to see him as a complete pansy if he didn’t stop him from going into his bedroom.

  The floorboards in Kemp’s bedroom squeaked from Shawn’s footsteps. Kemper’s heart hammered. He wanted to ignore the fact that Shawn was now in his room, but he couldn’t. He stepped inside behind Shawn and froze. Shawn stood on the other side of his bed, picking up the laundry and tossing it into the basket. When he was finished, he started stripping the sheets from the bed. Kemper reached for his forest green comforter and tossed it toward the basket to be washed.

  “Sheets?” Shawn asked.

  “I’ll grab some from the linen closet.”

  When Kemper returned, he saw that the magazine was now flipped closed and replaced into the top drawer of his nightstand. Kemp tried not to think about all his sex toys in there that Shawn probably caught sight of. Shawn stood on the other side of the king-size bed and helped Kemp pull on the fitted sheet. They shook out the flat sheet and spread it onto his bed.

  “Do you have a clean blanket?” Shawn asked.

  “In my closet. Top shelf.”

  “I’ll grab it.”

  They smoothed out the blanket. Shawn tucked in the corners, giving them a military edge. “I guess we’re done?”

  “One more thing to do,” Shawn said.

  Kemper followed Shawn downstairs, heading into the kitchen. He went straight to Kemp’s refrigerator. He opened up the door and sat his arm on top of the door. He shook his head.

  “Beer and cheese?” Shawn asked.

  “I’ve been mostly doing takeout.”

  “That’s not healthy, especially with you recovering.” Shawn gave him the once-over with a passing glance. The look was more speculative than anything. “Okay, I’ll take care of this.”

  Kemper felt the need to explain something to Shawn. “I’m not normally like this. I’m not usually a slob.”

  “I know. You’ve been recovering.” Shawn stared at him with compassion-filled eyes. “Why have you been pushing everyone from the police department away?”

  How did he know? Kemp shrugged. He felt as though everyone was making a big deal. He didn’t want anyone fussing over him. “I’m not helpless.”

  “No, but you need to know when to ask for help.”

  Their eyes locked. Kemp felt as though his soul were exposed and comforted at the same time. Tears rushed to Kemp’s eyes, forcing him to look away before they fell down his cheeks. He had to get it together before he made a fool of himself in front of Shawn.

  “Hey…”

  Kemper felt Shawn’s hand on his shoulder. It felt so good. Kemp had to resist the urge to turn into Shawn’s arms and just let go. It’d been so long since anyone had touched him who wasn’t a medical professional. He’d gotten so used to the clinical touches that he’d forgotten what the touch of someone who cared felt like.

  “It’s okay to ask for help.”

  “I know. It just isn’t easy. I’ve never felt so helpless in my entire life.”

  “Are you still having pain?” Shawn asked.

  “A little when I stand too long. It’s nothing I can’t handle. My balance is off.”

  “I can fix that for you,” Shawn said.

  “Can you?”

  “Yes, I can. Trust me.”

  Kemper did trust Shawn completely. “Okay.”

  “I want you ready to work out tomorrow with me.”

  The thought of going back into work sent a shiver of fear down Kemper’s spine. He lived for the job. He couldn’t believe that he was so fucking scared now. There was empathy in Shawn’s deep blue eyes. They were the kind of eyes that Kemp could get lost in for hours. They so couldn’t go there.

  “Thanks for helping me,” Kemp said.

  The corners of Shawn’s full lips lifted. There was something dangerous and almost sexual within Shawn’s eyes. “Don’t thank me yet. We have lots of work to do starting tomorrow morning.”

  Kemp felt as though he made a very important friend. “I have a feeling you’re going to kick my ass.”

  “I think you deserve a little bit of an ass kicking. You’ve let yourself go long enough.”

  Kemp crossed his arms. “I almost died.”

  “Hardly. You lost your leg. You weren’t anywhere near death. I read your file.”

  Shawn read his file. All the air in Kemper’s chest left in him in a whoosh. He knew everything about him. “Did you?”

  “Yes, I did. Now, your assignment for tonight is to write down a goal for the next week. One you’ll accomplish. It can be anything.”

  Kemper had an idea. He had only goal he wanted to accomplish this week. He wanted a kiss from Shawn O’Leary. The goal was so impossible it seemed preposterous, but it was the goal Kemper had in mind.

  “Write it down. When you write your goals down, it makes them real and attainable.”

  “Okay. I will.”

  “Good. Now, I’m gonna go. You get some rest. I want to see you bright and early in the Training Center.”

  Shawn left. Kemper didn’t start breathing again until he heard his front door open and close. He went to the nightstand where he kept a notebook in the bottom drawer. He pulled it out and opened it to a blank page. He pulled out a pen and wrote down his goal for the week, all the while hoping he’d get to kiss Shawn before the week was over.

  Chapter Three

  Kemp sat across from Chief Anderson’s desk.

  Sweat beaded down his temple. God, he hated being in the hot seat more than he hated working out. Phantom pain zipped down Kemp’s right leg, reminding him that he was no longer whole. He adjusted his prosthetic. It was the best money could buy, but he still didn’t know how to navigate with it well.

  “You start training with O’Leary today,” Chief Anderson said.

  “About that, sir. I was thinking I could work out on my own. I don’t need a trainer.”

  “Yes, you do. I need you back in shape to take your SWAT exam.”

  Kemper felt tired already. After Shawn had left last night, he couldn’t sleep. Kemp kept thinking about a sexy man who was completely out of his league. He woke up with his cock harder than granite. Kemp spent ten minutes polishing off his cock that morning in the shower just so he could function without his prick pointing at everyone today.

  “Are you fucking listening to me?”

  Chief Anderson’s bark startled Kemper out of his thoughts. “Sir?”

  “Do you want your job back?” Chief Anderson asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then get back in shape. Get your head on straight and you can have your job.”

  “That’s the plan, sir.”

  “You better be committed.”

  “I am, sir.”

>   “Good. Now, get the fuck out of my office and go meet up with Sergeant O’Leary. I want you in shape in six weeks. You will be ready to take the SWAT test in two months.”

  “Yes, sir.” Kemper went to the door, but hesitated. He glanced back at Chief Anderson, who had put on a pair of readers. “Sir?”

  “What is it, Morrow?”

  “Thank you, sir. I don’t think I would have gotten my head out of my ass had you and Sergeant O’Leary not shown up.”

  Chief Anderson removed his readers. “All of you are like sons to me. Now, go make me proud.”

  Kemp felt all choked up inside. “Yes, sir.”

  The police station hummed with activity. Kemp couldn’t believe how much he missed it. Several of his coworkers waved and nodded as he passed by. Kemper headed downstairs to the locker room to change. There was no sign of Sergeant O’Leary. Shawn. God, Kemp loved the sound of his name rolling through his head. Kemp took his clothes to one of the dressing rooms in the showers. At one time, he wouldn’t have cared to change out in the open. He’d been athletic and ripped. Kemp undressed from his tactical pants, leaving on his police issued T-shirt. Kemper glanced at his chest. He spent a lot of time not looking at himself in the mirror. The dragon tattoo that rippled around his thigh and up toward his cock didn’t have the same bite it once had. The dragon’s jaw was opened beneath his balls, ready and willing to bite his apples.

  Kemper frowned. He didn’t like looking at himself in the mirror. It was too painful. It reminded him too much of his accident. Kemp’s gaze dropped to his leg. He still wasn’t used to seeing the mechanics.

  Now, he had a gut that went on and on. All the muscle tone he once had was smooth skin. Kemper dressed in a pair of shorts. He glanced at the scale in the corner of the room. He didn’t want to step on it. He knew he was overweight. He ignored the scale and went back to his locker to shove his gym bag inside. The truth was he felt tired of being sick and tired with his body and his life. He’d given up hope after he lost his leg. He had a really hard time pulling himself back together and facing the world. The hardest part to get over were the stares from strangers. Kemper promised himself that if he climbed out of this hole, he wasn’t ever going to crawl back inside of it again.