Page 2

Red and blue lights flash in my rearview mirror just as the loud whoop-whoop hits me. Fuck my life.

I ease off the gas and glide over to the shoulder, rolling to a stop with my hazard lights on. I shift into park and tap the infotainment screen to display my audiobook from clean-up.

My hands are at ten and two. I’m the fucking picture of Oops! Was I speeding, officer?

Even though I’m expecting it, the tap on my passenger window startles me, and I screech like a girl. One hand flies to my chest, the other hits the button to lower the window.

“Oh my God, Dusty. You scared the crap out of me.” I lay it on thick, eyes wide and hopefully innocent like a cartoon bunny. “Is my tire low again? That one in the rear passenger side has a slow leak, but I promise I checked it before I left for work?” Did I just lie my ass off and make it into a question to boot? You bet your sweet ass I did.

“Counterproductive,” I finish, running through baseball stats, trying to think of my sweet granny without actually thinking of her while my cock gets impossibly harder. “Stop. Just… stop stroking me. Oh my fucking God.”

“You, uh, you wanna turn your ear-porn down, there, Jessaline? There’re kids on the playground across the street.”

My hands flutter around in the air between us as I reach for the volume control and turn it way up before hitting pause and making my eyes even wider. Flustered and innocent is the way to go with this asshole.

“I am so sorry. You don’t think they could hear the”—I lower to a stage whisper—“bad words, do you?” Jesus, I’ve got a headache brewing from as wide as I’ve pushed my eyes. “Is that why you pulled me over? Could you hear my book outside the van?”

Officer Dustman lowers his aviators and stares at me over the top of the frames, as if I should be shaking in my boots. Maybe I should be, what with the crime-scene clean-up stashed in the back.

“No, but you were exceeding the speed limit. I clocked you at ten over.” He hikes a brow to really drive home the fact that I’m in the wrong here. “With kids in the area, I really should give you a ticket.”

“I’m so sorry, I…” I heave out a big old sigh, and a shiver skates down my spine at the thought of what had me squirming and speeding in the first place. “I guess I just got caught up in the story, you know? I’m… If you have to give me a ticket, I understand.”

Simple, sweet, and pure-as-the-day-is-long is what I’m putting out there. I would have done so damn well in high school theater. Too bad the class whore fucked the teacher to land the lead role. I’d have done a much better job as proven by Dusty taking the bait—hook, line, and sinker.

“Well, I can see that you just got carried away.” He leans in the passenger window and glances around the interior of the van. “You on your way to a job or finishing up? Looks like you’ve got some heavy bags back there. Need help lifting them?”

It takes everything I have not to roll my eyes and laugh in this asshole’s face.

“Wouldn’t want you to break one of your pretty nails doing that heavy lifting.” His gaze is back on me, but instead of looking me in the eye, he’s scoping the tight tank top beneath my coveralls like he’s trying to figure out my exact bra size.

I wait for his eyes to lift.

I wait for the silence to tip just that side of uncomfortable.

I wait for him to figure out that I know he’s checking me out.

I wait a long ass time, because Dusty is an idiot.

“Thank you for that lovely offer, but I wouldn’t want to take you away from your duties. It must be so hard—” Do I pause here on purpose? Did I choose this specific spot for my dramatic break? You bet your sweet ass I do. “Covering for that missing police officer. Did he run away with the murderer, like they say he did?”

Dusty pulls back, standing straight with his elbows flared and hands on his utility belt. Nothing but business when asked about the town’s biggest scandal since Alexandre Robicheaux and his wife were killed a decade ago.

“You know I can’t talk about an ongoing investigation, but I assure you, Officer Grey did no such thing. I’m going to let you off with a warning here but keep an eye on your speed. Slow down so I don’t have to stop you again.” He pats the roof of the van, an awkward move since he’s not quite tall enough for the reach to look natural, and saunters back to his patrol car.

God, he’s such a jerk.

I wait for him to finish whatever bullshit he needs to do and then, when he angles his car into traffic, I pull out and drive like a freaking ninety-year-old granny.

Dusty hangs a U-ey and parks just out of sight of oncoming traffic waiting for his next victim. Good riddance and God bless whoever snags his attention next.

Chapter 2

Custody

EDDIE

This woman drives me batshit crazy. She’s literally got to be fucking insane. There’s no other way to describe her.