Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84871 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Hard blue eyes bore into me. It’s precisely this moment when she goes from Sloane, my friend or whatever the fuck we are, to Officer Do-Good. She sets her coffee down on the counter before saying, “Go on.”
“They’d been eyeing Gemma all night and watching our group play. Challenged me and Tate to a game. If we lost, they got to take my fucking sister for a ride on their bike. I knew if I let that happen, she’d never come back.” Blood boils beneath the surface of my skin and I fist both hands, wishing I could turn back time so I could pummel them like they deserved.
“Why would you ever agree to that?” she demands, her own anger making a quick appearance.
I hold up a hand, stopping her. “Don’t call me a child again. Please. That shit’s annoying.”
She nods but doesn’t seem too happy about it. I can tell she’s barely containing the urge to rip my head off about that.
“That Prez guy forced my hand.” I drop my gaze to the floor. “I think Trevor’s working for him.”
“Wait, what?” She sucks in a sharp breath and approaches. “Dempsey, what are you even saying?”
Her small hands reach up and she grips my shoulders as though that will make me focus. It has the opposite effect. All I can think about is how good her hands feel on me. I lean into her, inhaling her sweet caramel-scented mouth.
“Explain,” she rasps out, voice breathy and uneven. “Now.”
I study her supple lips for a beat before meeting her eyes again. “Either Trevor or Charlie followed me to your house the night they tried to sell to me.” Clenching my teeth, I force out my next words. “They told Prez I was ratting them out to a cop.”
“How did they know I was a cop?”
“Come on, Sloane, you’re smarter than that. Don’t make me say it.”
“Trevor.” She frowns, sadness glimmering in her eyes. “Wow. That’s low.”
“Believe me, babe, I want to punch him in the fucking face all over again.”
Her lips twitch with amusement. “You called me babe. That’s twice now.”
Fuck.
She freezes as if she suddenly realizes our proximity and drops her hands by her sides. Once again, her cheeks turn a pretty shade of red. When she starts to back away, I crowd her personal space, my hands finding her waist so I can keep her from retreating too far.
“I, uh, I still don’t understand what made you decide to bet with them, Demps.”
I tighten my fingers around her body through her clothes, desperately trying to memorize the feel of her in case it’s my only opportunity to touch her. “They threatened to pay you a visit.”
Her eyes widen and her lips part. “Me?”
Reluctantly, I remove one hand from her waist to touch her cheek instead. Her lashes flutter at my touch, giving me stupid hope that she might feel one iota of the way I do. “I couldn’t fucking let that happen.”
“Wow. Okay.” She exhales heavily, her breath tickling over my chest. “You do remember I’m a cop, right? I can handle myself.”
My thumb greedily slides along her warm flesh close to her mouth I dream about on repeat. “I know. That’s why I’m here now. That night, though, I wasn’t thinking straight. I was scared shitless.”
She softens at my vulnerable admission and then surprises me by stepping toward me, enveloping me in a hug. I wrap my arms around her lithe body and squeeze her to me, burying my nose in her hair that smells like sweet sunshine.
“I’m sorry I said those mean things to you,” she whispers against my chest. “That was uncalled for. Sometimes I just blurt out all the wrong things.”
Someone clears their throat as they enter the break room and Sloane jerks away from me like she’s been caught doing something bad.
It’s me.
I’m the bad thing.
“Is that your vehicle in my spot?” a man asks. “I should have you ticketed and towed.”
I wheel around and come face to face with the Porsche prick. “You’re the chief?”
“And you’re illegally parked.”
Sloane steps between us. Maybe she can sense the testosterone rolling off each of us in waves. He’s baiting me. It’s a goddamn parking spot, not a fire lane, for fuck’s sake.
“He’s leaving,” Sloane assures the man. “No need to give him a ticket.”
The chief, in his fancy suit with his slicked black hair, sneers at me. “Don’t park there again, kid.”
I bristle at his words and am about to tell him to fuck off when Sloane interjects.
“We’ll discuss this later. Please just go.”
I smirk at the chief and then tip my head at Sloane before stalking out of the break room. Several cops watch me as I pass, clearly curious as hell as to what I could possibly be doing with Sloane Thurman. Let them think whatever they want. It’s not like it’s true.