Page 6 of Stag

“He’s a stalker! Call the police!”

What the actual fuck? The way I saw it, there were two people who could be called stalkers in this moment, but guess which one of us everyone looked at with suspicion.

As luck would have it, two coppers were doing their fucking lunch shopping, so were on the scene within about two minutes. I recognised one as that fucker who used to partner with Grease’s old lady, but he looked anything but friendly in this moment. The guy he was partnered with looked young enough to be his fucking son, so he wasn’t a threat.

“You’re harassing this lady?”

I glared at him. “Of course you’ll take her side. The twisted bitch attacked me!”

She turned on the tears, wrapping her arms around herself as she played the vulnerable female, and I ended up with the fucking irons on my wrists.

“You fucking whore! I’m gonna make you fucking pay for this!”

“See?!”

The cop, Evers, leaned close to my ear. “I wouldn’t add fuel to the fire if I were you. This already looks pretty bad. Biker guy versus vulnerable tearful woman. Your president won’t be too happy about this.”

“Fuck you, cop. You can’t hold me for this. I was just shopping.”

He marched me to their car, while I heard that bitch saying all sorts behind my back as we left. Calling me a stalker. Saying I’d harassed them in a club. That she had witnesses. That her sister was a vulnerable disabled woman. Fucking hell. She was only deaf. She was perfectly capable of living her life. Which begged the question of why I was trying to keep her safe from a distance.

“Let’s just get you to the station and we’ll put in a call to your people,” Evers said, and I take back everything I ever said about the fucker. He was on my side, at least as much as he could be, while doing his job.

Two hours later, I was being released to Harley, but I had a fucking stalking charge on my record, and the threat of a court date if they could prove it.

Motherfucker.

“She’s a bitch, I’ll fucking find her and make her-”

“Brother, maybe wait until we’re out of the police station before you start making threats that could get you banged up again.”

I shoved past Harley and stomped over to the van he’d arrived in. Fuck. My ride was still at the supermarket.

“Get me to my ride before they lock the car park.”

“You’re not in a position to give me orders, fuckhead. Get in the damn van.”

I had no choice but to obey, but I wasn’t happy about it, which I proceeded to show him in every way possible.

I slammed the door, jammed the seatbelt into the lock with a crunch, and punched the dashboard. FYI, all that does is break the skin on your knuckles without the satisfaction of putting some fucker’s lights out.

“You done?”

He wasn’t moving yet, just sitting staring at me.

“What?”

“I’m waiting. I know you’re a dick, but this isn’t like you. Stalking? I mean, I guess it’s possible, but I’m not buying it.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but his words shut my trap in the next instant. I thought thinking the worst of me was just everyone’s go-to.

“Wait, you’re not?”

Harley shrugged. “Tell me what happened, brother, then we’ll go get your ride.”

I checked the time on the dash, praying it was accurate. “Car park gets locked in less than an hour.”

“So talk fast.”