Page 101 of The Fed Sex Man

He was young and inexperienced, that much was certain. There were over a million civilians in the state of Texas that were legally licensed to carry handguns. One would think he’d be more versed on how to handle such matters professionally.

The last thing I wanted was for Jo to live her life after having witnessed an unarmed citizen being shot by an overzealous, inexperienced cop.

“Instruct me on the procedure you’d like me to use to get out of the car, officer,” I said, my tone rich with frustration. “Step. By. Step.”

“Driver, use your right hand to disengage your seatbelt. Slowly,” he barked. “Use that same hand to open the door. Passenger, use your left hand. One at a time. Driver first.”

I complied. Once I was safely out of the car, Jo followed.

While the officer ran my license check, we stood facing one another with our hands flat on the top of the car.

Jo’s frustration was clearly etched on her face. “You should have rolled your window down,” she whispered. “That made him mad. He scared the crap out of me with that thumb and forefinger thing.”

“He wasn’t mad about the window. The fact I had a handgun in the car was what ticked him off,” I argued. “I’m sorry you’ve been put through all of this. It’s completely unnecessary.”

“Why do you insist on carrying that thing?”

“What thing?”

“The gun.”

“For my safety, and for the safety of those I love,” I responded adamantly. “There’s far too many criminals in this state carrying guns illegally for me not to carry a gun. I’m not planning on becoming a statistic.”

She forced an exhaustive breath and then looked at me. “I’m guessing the odds of ever actually using it are pretty low.”

“You’re right. They are.” I held her gaze with angry eyes. “But, I’ve lost the two people I loved the most, already. I’m not willing to lose a third.”

“I’m glad you’re willing to protect those you love, but carrying that thing causes a lot of problems.”

“The problem is that a police officer pulled me over without cause,” I seethed. “He’s got a job to do. Fucking with me because he’s got a hard-on for guys who drive fast cars isn’t it.”

“Why are you so mad?” she asked. “Because we’re out here with our hands on the car like criminals|?”

I thought I was doing a good job of hiding it. Obviously, I was wrong.

“Personally, I’m not pissed off about this.” I drummed my fingertips against the top of my car. “I’m pissed off because he pulled me over. He didn’t have any right to do so.”

“You were speeding. Earlier.”

“His car was pointed away from me. He has no proof. I guarantee you that he pulled me over because my car has a loud exhaust and looks fast. He’s hoping I have an outstanding warrant, so he can arrest me and look like a fucking hero.”

“You don’t think he’s going to write you a ticket?”

“If he does,” I warned. “He’ll probably end up arresting me. I’m not signing a fucking speeding ticket. I can guaran-goddamn-tee you that.”

“Why do you hate cops so much?” she whispered.

My gaze fell to my feet. After an unsuccessful attempt to calm my nerves, I looked up. It was time to tell her the rest of the story.

“Because,” I seethed. “They killed my father.”