Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 69555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69555 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 348(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 232(@300wpm)
Sammy went stock still.
“How do you know anything about my girl’s place?” Sammy asked, arms crossing over his chest.
Malachi turned to survey Sammy.
“You remember when you died not too long ago?” Malachi asked softly. “Your girl cried for hours. I was worried about her. So I went over there to check on her. When she didn’t answer the door for over three hours, I finally decided to pick the lock and go inside. I found her at her computer crying silently in her sleep. I chose to leave her alone, but I got a good look at her setup.”
Sammy deflated.
“Oh.”
A couple of weeks ago there’d been a massive pileup on the interstate that we’d thought had taken the lives of nineteen people. Three of which had belonged to Hastings in some way.
At the time, we were led to believe that Sammy, along with Hastings’ father and sister, were in the crash.
Hours later, her mom had suffered a fatal heart attack upon hearing the news of her husband.
Only, an ex-police officer by the name of Patman had taken Sammy by surprise when he’d exited his vehicle and stood on the sidelines surveying the accident scene. Patman had hurt Sammy, knocked him out cold, and had shoved him into his truck during the chaos.
It’d taken Sammy days to escape.
Which led to how and why Malachi had thought he needed to go check on Hastings.
At the time, she’d thought she’d lost her entire family.
“Thank you,” Sammy said softly. His eyes were lost for a few seconds. “I don’t… I don’t know what I would do without y’all.”
Malachi shrugged. “You’d be able to do just fine without us. You’re one of the only level-headed ones in our bunch.”
“No joke,” I muttered, not thinking straight. “There are a few of you that keep the rest of us in a state of public decency.”
Sammy chuckled. “You’re not that bad.”
A smirk lifted the corner of my lips.
“I got a complaint the other day that I wasn’t ‘safe to be in public’ because I was ‘too rude and abrupt and couldn’t understand the emotional trauma that I was inflicting.’” I quoted the report that’d I’d received only a few days ago.
Malachi burst out laughing.
“Who did you pull over?” he questioned.
I wrinkled my nose in disgust. “A kid. Nineteen or twenty or so. He’s an art major at the local college. I pulled him over because he was driving without his seatbelt on. Want to know what I said to him?”
Sammy made a sound in the back of his throat. “To put your seatbelt on?”
I pointed my finger at him. “Winner winner, chicken dinner.”
“You write him a ticket?” Malachi asked, pulling his shirt off over his head.
I didn’t wince at the number of scars that were revealed, at least outwardly. Inwardly, I wanted to know his story.
Everybody had scars, but Malachi had more than most.
But Malachi didn’t speak about his scars, just like he didn’t speak about his demons.
Not that I blamed him. The little I did know would make me not want to talk about it either.
“Hey, did you hear about that girl that got her house broken into yesterday?” Louis, Sammy’s cousin, and another member of the SWAT team asked.
“Are you talking about Reggie?” I asked cautiously.
Louis shrugged. “I have no clue. You can only see her from the backside.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked carefully.
“I’m talking about the photo they have of her propped up in the other locker room,” he said. “Apparently she was ‘very appreciative’ last night and posed with one of the cops for a photo op. I haven’t seen it yet. Just heard about it.”
I found myself walking before I’d really told myself I needed to go.
Steps purposeful, I made my way to the regular locker room where most of the other cops changed and got ready for their shifts.
When I arrived, nobody said much of anything because they were all gathered around a photo that was set up in the front of the room.
I knew the instant that I could see the color of the dress that it was Reggie.
I’d seen her last night and my goddamn heart had decided to fall out of my chest and onto the floor at her feet.
When she’d nearly been taken out by the two dumbasses carrying the cake, I could’ve happily killed them for making her run away.
Reggie had always been able to stir the most foreign feelings in my chest.
I’d never examined them closely before, but I knew that if I did, things would definitely not be as they seemed.
And, as they seemed right now, I kept my distance because Reggie always seemed to be one step away from hostility when it came to me.
Since we were kids, Reggie had been my rival.
In baseball. In school. In everything that we ever did that allowed us to compete in some way.