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)
I can’t do that to her.
Ever.
Dempsey
I have to tell her.
Even though I don’t want to, it’s the right thing to do. Not only does she need to know her nephew is involved with some fucked-up guys, but she also needs to know they followed me to her house.
If anyone will know what to do, it’s Sloane. She’s a cop, for fuck’s sake. As much as I want to pull her to me and protect her from the likes of Trevor’s lowlife friends, I know she can protect herself.
“You can deny it all you want, Dempsey,” Gemma says from the passenger seat as she reapplies lipstick. “You bet those assholes for that bike just to piss Dad off.”
I take a sip of my caramel macchiato and shrug my shoulders. “Pissing off Dad is just so fun.”
Only Tate and Sloane know Gemma was on the menu Saturday night. I sure as hell am not going to freak my sister out for no reason. Luckily, between me having to be with her every waking minute if we leave the house and Dad hovering over his little girl nonstop, she should be safe from those guys.
It’s Sloane I’m more worried about.
I pull into the police station, once again taking the chief’s empty spot. Gemma smirks at me, a knowing glint in her gaze as I grab Sloane’s coffee and climb out.
“Lock the doors and behave while I’m gone.”
I shut the door and don’t move until I hear the locks engage. Then I start for the police station entrance. A red Porsche slowly drives past me and the dude glares at me. I flip him off for the fun of it.
Once inside, I wave at Kaden and Tara at the reception area and then make a beeline over to Sloane’s desk. She doesn’t seem to notice my approach and scowls at her open file as she spins her ink pen around and around her fingers.
“Coffee break,” I say, laughing when she jolts in surprise.
Shock registers in her gaze and then she gives me a small smile. “Just what I needed.”
I know she’s talking about the coffee, but I’d like to think it’s me she needs.
“Can we talk?” I ask, sitting on the edge of her desk.
She motions for the chair across from her. One of the detectives watches us with interest.
“In private?”
“Are you going to tell me about Saturday night?”
“I have no other choice.” I shrug one shoulder and skim my eyes over her desk. “You could take me to one of the interrogation rooms. Handcuff me to the desk and torture me until I squeal.”
She cracks a smile at that. “I think the break room will suffice.”
Once she has her coffee in hand, she stands and starts for the break room. I follow after, not so subtly checking out her cute bubble butt in her police uniform. The outfit should be banned because it’s criminal how good she looks in it. One of the detectives leaving the break room notices me checking out her ass and then gives me the stink eye.
I bet every damn one of these men around here are dying to get into her pants.
Sloane’s a good girl, though. A model policewoman who follows all the rules. Fraternizing with her coworkers would be a big no-no. Thank fuck for that because I wouldn’t be able to stomach the thought of her getting with any of them.
Saturday night, seeing her with her date, was bad enough.
However, when she called me later that evening, I was relieved to discover she hadn’t spent the night with that douchebag she went to dinner with.
Small victories.
Once we’re alone in the break room, she leans her beautiful ass against the countertop, sips her coffee, and lifts a blond brow in question.
Right.
Time to talk.
I cross my arms over my chest and try to work out how and what to tell her. Her eyes dip from my face down to my tattooed biceps that strain against the sleeves of my black T-shirt. Crimson creeps up her neck and paints her cheeks before she forces her gaze back to mine.
Naughty cop likes what she sees.
My naughty dick likes that thought, but this isn’t the time nor the place to flirt with this angel.
“I should have told you what happened that night, but I needed time to process,” I admit truthfully. “It wasn’t to piss you off, I swear.”
Her eyebrows pinch and her pouty lips press into a firm line. Since she’s not yelling at me like she did the other night, I take it as my cue to continue.
“Those guys…they were bad news.” I spear my fingers into my overgrown hair, messing up the style I worked so hard on this morning. “I think they were in a motorcycle club. Not the crotchety-but-still-cool dudes from the local VFW either. The kind of guys who should be in prison just for existing.”