Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 76780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Dean doesn’t pull over at first, but when I ride his ass, he finally jerks the wheel to the side of the road, just outside of his neighborhood, Beacon Hill Estates. I park behind him, switching off the siren but leaving the reds and blues to strobe around us like a dance club party for two. My bright white spotlight illuminates the inside of his Suburban. I don’t get out right away, taking my time to play with the new technology Jax fitted my truck with this week. Lights, sirens, radio, and a cool-as-fuck laptop to look up every damn person I decide to pull over.
I run the plates, learning they belong to Dean Lawrence Bell. No priors or any smudge on his record. The ex-sheriff and current mayor is clean as a whistle.
Not for long.
I shove open my truck door, cursing against the frigid nighttime air. The coat Jax ordered for me has BFB PD emblazoned on the back in bright yellow. It’s thick and warm, but the Atlantic Ocean at one in the morning in late fall doesn’t give a fuck and chills you to your core anyway. Because I’m an asshole, I pull out my flashlight, turning it on and tapping the glass of his window, shining it right in his face when he looks my way. He grimaces against the brightness.
“License and registration,” I bark out through the glass.
“Jax?”
I tap the glass again. He rolls down the window and tries to see past the blinding light.
“License and registration.”
Understanding washes over him that I’m not his son. “Excuse me, but who are—”
“Sir, have you been drinking?” I growl.
“What?”
“Step out of the vehicle. Keep your hands where I can see them.”
“Who the hell do you think you are?”
“Step. Out. Of. The. Vehicle.”
“Call the sheriff,” he snaps.
“Happy to. Now step out of the vehicle before I drag you out.”
He shoves the door open, cursing under his breath. As soon as he steps out, I shine the light in his face again.
“Why am I being pulled over? And who the hell are you? I demand to see your badge because I know the only two cops in this town well. One is my son and the other is a woman.”
I shine the light at my badge on my belt. “Officer Larson. Atlas Larson. You can settle your confusion with the sheriff later. For now, I’m going to need you to take a breathalyzer test.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” he snarls, his purple face highlighted once again by the bright light of my flashlight.
“Not in a joking mood, sir.”
“Why did you pull me over?”
“Failure to use a turn signal and failure to complete a full stop at the stop sign back there. But, now I’m under the impression you’ve been drinking. If you have, I’m going to haul you in for a DUI.”
“Unbelievable.”
“Believe it. Stand right there.”
I retrieve the breathalyzer from the truck and make my way back over to him. Once again, I shine the light right in his fucking eyes. Paybacks are hell, old man. After I walk him through how to use the breathalyzer, he scowls but blows into the glass ampule.
Point oh-seven. It’s enough for me. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to put your hands on the vehicle. I’m placing you under arrest for driving under the influence.”
His outburst of curse words makes me grin but he obeys. All too happily, I cuff him, read him his rights, and then force him into the bed of my truck.
“You can’t seriously make me ride in the back of this thing,” he roars, spittle spraying on my face. “It’s cold as fuck.”
Ignoring him, I close the tailgate and then fetch a blanket from the cab. I toss it at him and then climb into my truck. Even though it’s late, I call Leo from the auto repair shop on my way back to the station and ask him to tow the mayor’s Suburban to his lot. His surprise is laughable, but he assures me he’ll be by the location to pick it up within the hour.
It only takes four minutes or so to make it to the station. The building is darkened, so I leave Dean in the back of the truck while I unlock the station and turn on the lights. Then, I make my way back out to retrieve the motherfucker. He curses me the entire way and doesn’t let up, even after I uncuff him. I shove him into the one-room jail and lock it behind him.
“Hang tight,” I tell him. “I’ll give the friendly sheriff a call. I’m sure he’ll get this all sorted for you soon, Mayor.”
Leaving him, I make my way back into the main room of the station. They’ve set up a small desk for me on the wall near my sister’s. Not that I’m the kind of guy who likes to sit at a desk, but it still feels good having something that belongs to me. I sit down and pull out some forms from the drawer. After I fill them out, I toss them on Jax’s desk.