Page 20 of Cautious Love

I close the door behind me, and Shiloh stands on the porch, frozen with silent tears streaming down her face.

I grab her elbow, hurrying her down to my truck, and she doesn’t say a word.

I don’t have anything to say to her.

I shouldn’t have done it. I should have called it in.

But I couldn’t.

She doesn’t deserve that.

But if she’s lying, I don’t deserve to lose my career either.

Shiloh stays quiet, hugging herself closely. Her wild blonde hair is a mess, and her skin seems pale, but it’s dark out, so it could be the light or the adrenaline fading. Or she could be in a lot of pain. I’m willing to bet the latter is more likely, seeing as he hit her again less than 48 hours later.

“Do you need to go to the clinic?” I ask her.

“No, it just hurts. He hit me in the face. He didn’t get my ribs,” she whispers.

I force a deep, calming breath into my lungs so I don’t turn the truck around, and shoot him between the eyes.

Now I have to ask her the hard questions.

“I know you wanted to get yours, and you did, but why are you pushing for more?” I ask her.

“I wasn’t but … I wanted to mess with him a bit more. He’s usually not around this time a night, so I thought I was safe.”

“And you’re telling me the truth?” I ask her, pulling the truck over.

She glares at me and shakes like a leaf at the same time. “He is an asshole and deserves the worst of things. But no, I did not go in there pointing a gun at him to kill him. It was …” She takes a deep breath and bursts into tears. “It was an accident, and Ididn’t mean to do it, and there was so much blood. You’re taking me in, right? I understand. It’s fine. I did it. I’ll own up to it.” She sniffs and looks out the window, and I realize I have no idea where I’m taking her.

“Where do you live?” I ask her.

“What?” she asks.

“Where do you live now?” I ask her again, but slower.

“You don’t have to talk to me like I’m a child, Ledger.”

“Then don’t act like one.”

“You know what? Screw you! This was an accident. I wasn’t trying to hurt him. I wanted to make him rue the day he did … what he did.”

I glance at her bag, with a few rolls of toilet paper poking out of the top.

“And teepeeing his house is all you could come up with?” I ask her.

She huffs and leans against the door, wincing in the process. “I’m sorry you have better ideas that won’t get me arrested?”

I lick my lips, trying to contain my smile. “Now, how do you think that would go over? The sheriff who enforces the law gives the criminal ideas on how to break said laws he enforces.”

I don’t have to look her in the eye to know she’s rolling them. I keep driving, then realize I have no idea where she parked her car. Hell, for all I know, she walked.

“Are you going to arrest me?” she whispers.

“No? Why would I? I didn’t see a thing,” I mutter.

“But—”