Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“I clearly observed the young lady standing in an unsteady manner and leaning on the door for support.”
“Bullshit,” I spit at him. “I barely touched a glass of wine over an hour ago. This is harassment.”
“I gotta say, Rusty, I’ve been with her all night.” Harrison is soft-spoken and polite, presenting a nonthreatening contradiction to Randall’s nonsense assertions. “She’s telling the truth.”
“Told you before, kid,” Randall says with an almost gleefully cruel sneer. “This ain’t one you want to waste your time on. If she’s awake, she’s either drugged out or drunk, making a sloppy embarrassment of herself all over town.” He huffs out a sarcastic laugh. “If drunk and disorderlies were frequent flyer miles, she could book a trip around the world. Ain’t that right, Genevieve?”
“Fuck you. Asshole.” I know I’ll regret the words even as they’re coming out of my mouth, but I don’t bother clamping my lips shut. It feels good to let it out, ineffectual as it is. A brief fantasy of snagging his pepper spray flickers through my mind.
The faintest twitch of a smirk tugs at the corner of Randall’s mouth. Then, forehead creased, he orders me to come stand behind the car and take a field sobriety test.
My jaw snaps open in shock.
“You can’t be serious,” protests Harrison, who’s clearly starting to understand what an utter dickweed Randall is.
“No.” I cross my arms and consider just driving away. Daring Randall to stop me. Those old instincts of mayhem and defiance roar back with a vengeance. “This is ludicrous. We both know I’m not drunk.”
“If you fail to comply with a lawful order, you will be under arrest,” he informs me. Randall is practically drooling at the prospect of putting me in handcuffs.
I turn to Harrison, who, though plainly alarmed, admits with a shrug there’s nothing he can do about it. Seriously? What the hell’s the point of dating a cop if he can’t get you out of a trumped-up traffic stop with a disgruntled egomaniac?
What truly pisses me off, however, what really tears the nails from the bed, is knowing Randall gets off on this. He loves applying his authority to humiliate me. Busting a nut with his power trip.
Not wanting to make a scene, I stalk toward the rear bumper and appraise Randall with a cool look. “What would you like me to do? Officer.”
A smile stretches across his face. “You can start by reciting the alphabet. Backwards.”
If he thinks this weakens me, he’s sorely mistaken.
That which doesn’t kill me makes my anger stronger.
CHAPTER 12
EVAN
For some reason, I saw that encounter going better in my head. I thought it’d be charming, in our kind of demented way. At the very least, make her laugh. Because as much as she’d given me a hard time back in the day, she always ate that stuff up, getting me jealous and riled until I snapped and stormed in to throw her over my shoulder. Then we’d fuck it out and be cool again.
This time, not so much.
I rake both hands through my hair and stare out at the dark water beyond the long pier. After Gen stormed out of the restaurant and her dipshit date gave me some unconvincing advice to leave her alone, I walked out here to get some air, get my head on straight. But so far, all I’ve succeeded in doing is wallowing over how much I miss Gen.
With a tired exhalation, I shove my hands in my pockets and leave the pier. Coming up the steps to the boardwalk, where my bike is parked along the curb, I’m not quite sure what I’m looking at until I hear Gen’s voice across the street telling a cop with his flashlight pointed at her to suck her dick.
My eyebrows soar in confusion, then knit in displeasure. The cop’s got her on the street behind a car, with her arms spread, touching her finger to her nose. Meanwhile, her dweeb date is there doing nothing while she begrudgingly walks a straight line and recites the alphabet, muttering obscenities along the way. Even from a distance I can feel the humiliation in Gen’s expression. The way her eyes stare into the distance.
I’m halfway to running over there before I stop myself. Damn it. The last thing I need right now is to go to jail for bouncing a cop’s face off the pavement. I wouldn’t make it out of a cell alive. Besides, Cooper’s already up my ass about fighting—getting locked up would give him a lifetime I told you so account that I’m not about to pay into. So I stand there, hugging the railing, fists clenched.
I recognize Rusty Randall, though I don’t know him well. Just that he’s got a reputation as a creep with a not-so-secret drinking problem of his own. To her credit, however, Gen takes it like a champ, never the type to let anyone see her rattled.