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Jesse straightens. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he’s already walking toward his squad, and I squeeze the wheel, my palms growing slick. What could this be about? I haven’t broken any laws. Billy is on probation, though, and if he does anything, it’s going to cause a world of pain for our family. Nothing matters more to me than the diner, and my family—my besties included. And with business dwindling during the fall and winter months, I need a win. I thought this car was it.
My pulse notches up as Jesse walks back toward my window.
It can’t be about Billy. He wouldn’t stop me if it was about Billy.
Jesse sighs. “Miss Walsh, I need you to step out of the vehicle.”
“Oh, now I’m Miss Walsh? Miracles do happen.”
“Out of the vehicle.”
“Why?”
“Do you always answer a command with a question?”
“You’re realizing this now? My specialty is answering questions with questions.”
Anything I can do to piss him off is great in my book.
“Step out of the vehicle.”
I get out, leaving my car door open so that I can slide back in.
“What are you doing, Taylor?” I ask. “I don’t have time for this.” I gesture to the box of baked goods on the passenger seat. “I’m on the way to the homeless shelter to drop these off. I can’t?—”
“This is a stolen car,” Jesse says.
“What?” My jaw drops. “That’s impossible. It’s brand new. I got this car yesterday.”
“Where did you buy it?” Jesse asks, handing my license and registration back.
I tuck them into my back pocket. “I didn’t buy it. My brother?—”
The words die on my lips.
“Your brother gave it to you?” Jesse asks.
I clamp my lips together.
“Angel?”
The nickname is quiet but dangerous.
He’s called me that for years, thanks to one of my many run-ins with him. I’d called him the devil in a uniform. He’d laughed and asked me what I was, then mocked me and called me Angel for the rest of the night.
Jesse lets out a second breath, moving a hand through his dark hair and then dropping it to his side.
“Turn around and put your hands on the car.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“This is a stolen car. I’m going to detain you until we can figure out exactly what’s happened here and?—”
“No,” I say. “No, no. I swear, it’s not stolen.”
I hate the panicked quality of my voice. I hate showing I’m rattled when he’s already caused so much damage. I squeeze my eyes shut.
