Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 131888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 528(@250wpm)___ 440(@300wpm)
That grimace deepened when he answered her. “By the people I answer to.” Why the fuck did she have the power to get info out of him?
You have the right to remain silent.
Her eyebrows knitted together. “What do you mean?”
Anything you say may be used against you…
“People I report to at work,” he answered.
He wasn’t going to get into details. He certainly wasn’t going to tell her about the task force or the Blue Avengers. He didn’t want to give her any more than what he had to.
And even that was too much.
“Your police department,” she surmised.
She could take his answering grunt however she’d like. He didn’t care.
“Then I bet they wouldn’t like you leaving before the meeting even begins.”
He met her gaze head-on. “Who’s going to tell them?”
“Ah. Is that the ol’ ‘snitches get stitches’ threat?”
He grunted again.
She could take that answer however she’d like, too. Because, once again, he didn’t care.
“Just so you know, I don’t scare easily. Only two people exist on Earth who’re scarier than my father. And one isn’t you.”
He frowned. Now he was curious about who her father was, as well as those two other “scary” people. Who the hell was she hanging out with?
“Look, you told me where you work. I know your name. I can easily find out who your immediate supervisor is. It’s not some secret. Don’t make me tell them you’re skipping out on required meetings.”
Damn, that was a low blow.
“But if you want to bow out tonight, fine. Do that. It’ll give you a whole week to mentally prepare to. Sit. In. A. Fucking. Circle. Next. Week.” She bit every damn one of those words off.
This woman was not fucking around.
He sneered, “Like in kindergarten.”
“That’s a fitting comment since you’re acting that age. Maybe I’ll bring carpet squares next week. We can all sit criss-cross applesauce on the floor. Maybe clap hands while we sing the song If You’re Happy and You Know It. I’m sure you know the words.”
“I don’t know the words.”
“Figures you don’t.” She sighed. “Leave tonight if you must, but I want to give you something first. Can I trust you not to hightail it out of here before I do?”
He grunted.
“That sounded convincing.” She flipped a hand toward a small sporty Mercedes parked only a few spots away from his bike. “It’s in my car and I’m parked right there.”
Of course she’d drive a damn Benz. Just as he thought, high maintenance.
“If you wait here, I promise not to narc on you. This week, anyway. But if you skip out on next week, no promises.”
“Hurry up. I’m sure the group is wondering where you are.”
“They know where I am. They couldn’t miss me sprinting after you in the middle of Tina’s story. Stay here.”
“Stop giving me orders.”
“Then stop making me give them,” she countered as she pulled her key fob from her pocket and unlocked her car. When she opened the passenger-side door, she bent over to dig in her center console, giving him another good look at her ass.
And the way her hips rocked as she searched for something in the car’s interior.
He quickly dropped his gaze to his boots as she straightened and turned with something small and light-colored in her hand.
The door slammed shut and the car beeped when it was relocked. The clicks of her heels as she approached had him lifting his eyes again. This time they got hung up on her chest.
“You’re not as dead inside as you think. You staring at my ass and tits is proof.” She raised a palm. “Don’t even deny it. Mothers have eyes in the back of their head.”
Damn. She wasn’t lying.
She extended her hand and tucked between two fingers was what looked like a business card. “All my info is on that card. Please reach out if you need to talk to someone.”
“I don’t need that.”
She slapped the card against his chest with her palm and held it there. “Take it.”
“I don’t want it.”
“I don’t care. You’re going to take it, anyway.”
Reluctantly, he held out his open hand.
She peeled the card from his chest and slapped it into his palm. “Like I said, if you need to talk—”
“I don’t need that since I’m not only forced to come to this group, but I have to see a therapist.”
“And I’m sure you turn into Chatty Cathy while in his or her office. Anyway, the offer still stands. Any time. Any place. We could talk over coffee instead of in a stuffy office. I’ve done my time sitting in those offices in front of therapists. Some helped, some did not. Some sit there and listen, but most likely are secretly judging. What I can promise you is, I won’t judge. I’ve been in your shoes. I’ve felt the same pain. I will truly listen to whatever you have to say and keep my mouth shut while you say it. Even if it’s simply about the weather.”