Page 44 of It Runs in the Family

“Just answer the question.” Mister Friendly was gone and was now being played by Demanding Asshole.

“Not until you answer mine.”

“Do you think I’d be asking if I didn’t?”

“Could you be any more evasive?” I asked with plenty of attitude even as the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I suspected I was in trouble here.

He took a step closer. “Could you try to be more helpful?”

I jutted out my chin and stared up at him, exuding nothing but indignant confidence even though terror was flitting through me. What the hell was going on? “I’d like to see your badge.”

“I don’t have to show you shit,” he snapped, then shook the paper. “Who the fuck is this?”

“If you don’t know who she is, then why do you think I know her?”

“Because we know you chased after her last night in a bar out on Highway 57.”

I tried to hide my fear, but I wasn’t sure my bravado was holding up. “Why did you come here?”

“Because we know you work here on the midnight shift.”

I definitely didn’t like the sound of that. How did he track me down? And why would he know who I was but not Selena? I needed to get away from this guy and find Garrett. “Nope,” I said flippantly. “Don’t know her.”

“Then why did you run after her in the bar?” he growled.

How did he know that?

“A case of mistaken identity. I thought she was my best friend from high school, but when I got a better look, I realized I was wrong.”

“And who was your best friend from high school?” he asked, taking a step closer. The dark look in his eyes proved I hadn’t fooled him.

I wasn’t about to give him the name of anyone I knew, so I said the first thing that popped into my head. “Fuzzy Lumpkins.”

Fuzzy Lumpkins? Seriously, Iris?

“Fuzzy Lumpkins?” he asked, clearly not buying it.

I shrugged. “Bless her heart. I think her parents hated her.”

He took another step toward me. “I’m going to give you three seconds to give me a real name before I haul you into the station.”

I knew this man wasn’t with law enforcement, but I needed one last piece of tangible proof before I risked assaulting an officer of the law. “The one on Bradford Street?”

“Yep,” he said, “now start talking.”

He was inches from me, so I decided to pull the move I’d used on Billy, hoping it would buy me enough time to truly escape. I shot my hand low between his crotch and grabbed on tight, grateful I’d grabbed just his balls and not his dick. “There is no station on Bradford Street. Who are you really?”

He gasped and grabbed my wrist, twisting the skin hard enough that it burned.

I squeezed tighter, which was a lot easier than with Billy since this guy was wearing dress pants. “I suggest you release my arm, or I might do some permanent damage.” I gave another squeeze to prove my point. He let go, and I said, “Put your hands on top of your head.”

To my surprise, he did what I said. Then again, I suspected, like most men, he was pretty fond of his genitalia.

“Why are you looking for the woman in the photo?”

“You’re gonna be in a world of hurt for assaulting a police officer,” he grunted.

“Dude, if you’re with law enforcement, then I’m the Easter Bunny. There is no station on Bradford Street.”