Page 9 of Claiming Becca

Under the column for Sheriff, I fill in the spot for James Foster, hoping he wins. After years of people living in fear, things are finally changing. Walking out of the building, I almost run into Victor Valentine. Victor still walks around this town like he’s not just as guilty as Donovan.

He rubs his tattoo-covered hand over his beard. “Connor,” he greets me.

My eyes narrow at him as I cross my arms. “What are you doing here, Valentine? Trying to intimidate people into voting for your guy?”

He studies me. “I’m here to vote like everyone else. And why would I intimidate anyone? People can vote for who they want to vote for.”

I scoff, not believing his bullshit. “Tell Donovan his days are numbered,” I say. He doesn’t respond as I walk away. Walking up to Julian, I glance behind me and watch Victor walk into the building to vote.

“He plays all innocent, but there’s no way. Everyone knows he’s best friends with Donovan,” I tell him.

Julian sighs. “Connor, I told you I’ve looked into him. All of his businesses are legitimate,” Julian reminds me, and I huff.

There’s no way; he has to be good at hiding it. Victor does what I’ve started to do, making old buildings into thriving businesses. But he has to be in on the drug and human trafficking. It has to be a cover-up. In the past six months, Victor has remade worn down buildings downtown. His next venture is to make a fountain area downtown to attract locals and tourists. It doesn’t make sense. Why would he do that? Putting it out of my head, I turn my attention to Julian.

“So, you’re getting married?” I ask him.

He nods. “Yep,” he replies. My eyes narrow. He doesn’t look happy to be getting married.

“When will I get to meet her?” I ask.

He shrugs but doesn’t answer my question. I study him for a moment, making a bet that he will not marry this woman. Julian may be very cut and dry, but he is passionate about the people he loves. He does not love this woman. Before I can call him on it, I’m assaulted by a pink-haired munchkin. Smiling down at Becca, I hug her and inhale. She smells like sunshine.

“Hey, Shortcake. What are you doing here?” I ask her.

She beams at me. “I just voted for the first time!” she exclaims.

My smile grows. “That’s great,” I tell her, then motion to my brother. “This is my brother, Julian.” She walks over to him and hugs him, taking him by surprise. I laugh at his put-out expression. He doesn’t return the embrace. Instead, he gently pushes her away and gives her a tight smile.

“Nice to meet you. I’m guessing you’re Becca?” he asks.

She smirks at me. “Have you been talking about me to your brother?”

I shrug. “Maybe,” I tell her.

Her smile gets bigger. I’ve always thought she was pretty, but getting to know her and watching her come into her own the past couple of years, she’s stunning. Julian catches my eye and raises an eyebrow. I shrug nonchalantly. Becca has become my best friend, even more so than Bass, and I won’t do anything to ruin that. She turns back to Julian.

“Connor told me you’re a detective,” she tells him, and he stares at her for a few seconds before answering.

“I am,” he replies.

“Interesting. So, how many bad guys have you put away?”

“37. I’m working on my 38th right now,” he tells her.

She raises her eyebrows in appreciation. “Wow, that’s amazing. I know without a doubt you’ll get number thirty-eight.” He smirks at her but doesn’t respond. She turns to me, giving me a smile that I’ve decided is only reserved for me.

“I have to get back to work. Bass wants to vote too. He said I could come first, and then when I get back, he’d come and vote.” Disappointment settles in my chest, but I ignore it.

“I’ll come to visit later. Okay?” I tell her.

She smiles and gives me another hug. “See you soon.” She waves and walks away.

I watch her as she gets into her yellow Volkswagen Beetle. She’s so proud of that car. It’s the first thing she’s bought for herself. She “didn’t have to steal it or anything”, according to her. I chuckle at the memory of her driving up in it. It was a piece of junk, but Bass and I helped her get it up and running. A few months later, she got it freshly painted, and now it fits her perfectly.

Pulling my phone out, I text her.

Me: Do you know if buttcheeks is one word?

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