Strong Hate (A Thin Line #1)

by R. D. Berg

  My hands jerk up as if they’re tied to puppeteer's string.

  “Holy, shit,” I squeak as sweat beads form across my brow, under my pits, under my breasts. Well, shit… I’m a sweaty fucking mess. Now I realize it’s true what they say, your life does flash before your eyes when you are about to die. Well, in my case, the last twenty-four hours are flashing; from me getting fired, packing up and fleeing from that shit hole called Virginia, jumping to now— about to get thrown in prison for finger shooting an officer. Prison! I can’t go to prison, I’m claustrophobic as fuck, and I am petite. I will definitely be someone’s bitch on the first night. I didn’t think twice about prison when I was about to pounce on Olivia, but now when it’s in my face – oh hell to the no.

  A heavy knock on my window ejects me from my mental nightmare. With my hands still suspended in the air, I turn wide-eyed to look at the trooper. He isn’t crouching, so the only thing I see is his uniform covered midsection.

  I don’t know if it’s fear, adrenaline, or pure stupidity that prompts me to yell out, “I’m claustrophobic and can’t become someone’s bitch!” This is followed by a few heavy pants that nearly make me lightheaded.

  “I’m going to need you to step out of the vehicle, and keep your hands where I can see them,” he urges with intensity. I nod my understanding as I slowly reach down to open the door. Once I am out, I lean against my car and cast my gaze downward in shame. A diesel whizzes by causing my ponytail to whip violently against my face, and my car to shake lightly.

  “Ma’am please turn around and place your hands on the hood of the vehicle.” He says with an exaggerated southern twang.

  I remain silent while following his instructions, not bothering to meet his eyes. This is so fucking embarrassing. Static fills the quiet night as he radios for backup. I let out a groan as my head drops down. How the hell am I going to weasel my way out of this predicament?

  While keeping my palms glued to the warm hood of the car, I turn my head to peer over my shoulder. “Officer, if you would just let me explain,” I begin just before the lights of a second squad car approach. I am going to throw up, holy mother of pearl, I am going throw up. The rumbling of a loud truck engine grows louder as the headlights highlight us on the side of the road; the truck slows as it gets closer. My head turns to the sound of the truck, wondering if this could be another cop. A sudden flash of light emitted from the backseat nearly blinds me as a male voice yells, “Whoooo Hooooo, this babe is going on media takeout.”

  Before I even think about it, I flip off the obnoxious jerks that are stopped in front of us. Laughter spills out of the car before they speed off down the highway. This is unreal, I have to be in some sort of nightmare or am I being Punk’d? My anger getting the best of me, I instinctively turn as the sound of gravel crunching grows louder.

  “What are you doing, no one told you to turn around,” the first officer responds while forcibly grabbing both of my wrists and replacing them on the hood of the car with a soft thud.

  “What do we have here 182?” The new officer asks his voice dripping heavy with an obnoxiously fake New York accent. 182, removes his grip.

  “I think we need to search little Miss Thang first,” 182 instructs. If I am not mistaken, I can swear I hear my knees knocking together. Unease creeps down my spine, something is off about these officers. Mentally, I scold myself for not taking the self-defense classes that Harlow begged me to take before I left. I chance a glance behind me trying to make out the officers faces, but it’s dark and the patrol lights dancing around is making them unrecognizable.

  “It’ll be my pleasure,” the second cop states flatly. There’s some shuffling behind me, and I feel the heat of the officer as he settles himself behind me. He rests his hands on my shoulders and brings his mouth close to my ear. My nostrils flare as the breeze carries his masculine scent of pine mixed with a hint of vanilla. His breath greets the nape of my exposed neck causing a slew of goosebumps to appear.

  “Do you have any sharp objects on you?” he whispers gruffly in my ear while his hands begin to explore down my back. I timidly shake my head, no. “Any weapons or drugs?” Again, I shake my head no, because my words have abandoned me. He continues his slow search down the side of my torso. This can’t be proper protocol. I mean, I’ve watched several episodes of “Cops” and this is not how they handle criminals. Great, now I’m classifying myself as a criminal. Get your shit together Lundyn. A throat clearing to my left brings me back to the present.

  “408, I think I need to check for objects in her pockets. There might be another finger gun we’re missing,” Officer 182 says with mock sarcasm. My fingers clench, balling my hands into fists as my uneasiness transforms into molten hot anger.

  “Nah, let me finish the search on this naughty girl, 182.” Both men chuckle under their breath causing me to grit my teeth. My patience with these two goons has peaked.

  “I don’t have anything on me, so can you please get your hands off me—now?” Although angry, I attempt to keep my tone even. Officer 408’s grip slightly tightens on my waist.

  Officer 182 leans closer to my other ear, and I hear him lick his lips. “Now for the life of me, I don’t quite know what to discuss first. Why you are blazing down the highway with one headlight out shooting finger guns at a cop, or screaming about being someone’s bitch while the cop is at your window… Lundy.” My jaw goes slack at the suddenly recognizable change of his voice.

  “FINN!” I yell as I throw my head his way. How could I not recognize my childhood friend’s voice? Oh yeah, because just a few seconds ago I was scared shitless, and thought I was about to do fifty to life. His head nods up and down, and I throw my hands around his neck. His familiar laugh vibrates off my chest as he hugs me back. When we release from the friendly embrace, I step back tucking my hands into the back pockets of my denim shorts. The uniform thing is totally working in his favor. His broad shoulders pull the shirt tight against his body and eyes as green as the pastures surrounding us light with humor.

  “And hello to you too, Lundyn.” I instantly still as his voice washes over me, not the fake New York accent he was talking with earlier, but the one I actually recognize —Maverick Strong. My gag reflex jumps to action, and I inhale deep breaths trying to prevent my fancy Taco Bell dinner from making a reappearance.

  I turn around, crossing my hands over my chest, resting my back against the car. My eyes start a hot pursuit up his legs, appreciating the way the patrol lights dance off of his body showcasing his muscular arms. When I reach his face, I am greeted with an innocent smile plastered on his face. “You have got to be kidding me?” I say peeling my eyes from Maverick to look between him and Finn. The anger that had minutely dissipated when I saw Finn has returned ten-fold at the sight of Maverick. “I wish I could slap that smug look off your face Maverick.”

  Shock consumes his face, but he recovers quickly. “Now, now, Lundy, you don’t want to go to jail for assaulting an officer or threatening one. Do you?” His eyebrows raise in question.

  I bare my teeth. “Ugghhhh.” My fists clench as I bring them up to my face, shaking them violently in front of me.

  “Lundy it was just a joke, all my fault. I saw you passing and immediately called Maverick on the radio. So be mad at me, not Maverick,” Finn interjects. As always he’s Switzerland when Maverick and I go at it. My hands fall to my side, as I steady my breaths. Neither Maverick nor I bother to acknowledge him, though, our locked gazes speak for us; World War III has just been declared. “Are you two ever going to stop this dumb pissing contest with each other?”

  I tap my finger against my lips, as I pretend to think about his question. “Nope, not after his lovely going away gift he gave me last year.”

  Maverick abandons his glacial stare and raises his fist to his mouth as a laugh escapes. I shoot daggers his way, but that only fuels his laughter.

  “Oh, come on, Lundy. That was a year ago, and from what I can tell your eyebrows have grown back be
autifully.” Finn tries his best to stifle the laugh that’s trying to escape by placing a hand over his mouth. My eyes toggle between Tweedledum and Tweedledee. Heat crawls over my face, as I recall the cruel joke Maverick played on me a few weeks before I decided to leave for Virginia and before he swatted my heart like a nagging fly.

  “It took me four whole months to grow them back Finn. Four!” I thrust four fingers his way for emphasis. “The dermatologist said that Dumbo would have damaged the entire follicles if I hadn’t woken up and realized I had hair remover on them.” Just as I finish my rant, static sounds snap over Maverick’s radio.

  “I’d love to reminisce about your brows Lundy.” He casually looks down at his watch. “But my shift is over, and I need bacon.”

  Maverick turns on his heel and jogs toward his car without even a goodbye. Probably just as easy now as it was when I left—no goodbye. Asshole. Finn watches him until he reaches his vehicle, and looks at me apologetically.

  “I really am sorry about tonight, Lundy; it was just a joke.” He hugs me quickly and begins to walk backward to his car. “Bring the car by the house tomorrow and I’ll fix that light,” he says as he reaches for his door handle.

  “Sure thing.” I shield my eyes from their headlights and wave goodbye. A dust cloud encompasses me as they turn their lights off and speed away. I continue watching until the darkness swallows up their taillights.

  I immediately climb into my car and grab my phone from the center cup holder.

  Me: In case you were wondering your brother is still an asshole.

  Whorlow: WTF! What now?

  Me: I’ll tell you over a nice big plate of pancakes.

  Whorlow: You got it - hurry up hooker lips.

  Me: :) OMW

  With a mischievous smile, I toss my phone onto the passenger seat and throw my car into drive. If Maverick Strong wants a war, he damn sure better be ready for the nuclear bomb that I am going to detonate.

  Climbing back into my squad car, my shaking fingers click the flashing blue and red lights off. I take a deep breath; in, then out. After a few moments, I slowly begin to calm. It took all— I mean all of my strength to avoid running my hands in places that wouldn’t be acceptable on the side of the road. Hell, I almost didn’t care.

  I drive to the twenty-four-hour diner called Sue’s where Finn and I end every shift. This has been one hell of a long night, and it didn’t feel that way until ten minutes ago. I’ve always been a night owl, so the night shift has always worked for me. The only thing different now is...

  Lundyn Spence.

  The thorn in my side. The pain in my ass. The knife in my back.

  Lundyn Spence.

  The sexiest woman. The reason for my blue balls. The girl I’ve always wanted.

  And also, my little sister’s best friend. So, of course, that means that she’s off limits.

  Except for that one night…

  Pulling into a parking spot, I scrub my hands down my face attempting to wipe away that last thought. I can’t think about that. A knock startles me from my internal agonizing thoughts of having my mortal enemy walking on the same soil as I do.

  “You owe me for that one.” Finn hits the hood of my car as I climb out.

  “Did you see her face? Priceless.” I join in on the fun. Can’t let him see me sweating about Lundyn Spence, of all people. “At least I shot first.”

  “I don’t know that man; I’d watch my back if I were you.” Finn’s tone suddenly turns serious as the tiny bell above the door rings when we enter the diner.

  “Oh, I will be.” I’ve wrestled and arrested guys three times the size of Lundyn, but thinking about her retaliating sends a tingling shiver down my spine.

  We sit down in our usual booth by the window and place our orders with Sue; she’s the owner and our waitress almost every morning after our shifts. We found this little place a few months ago when we had to answer a robbery call. It turns out we didn’t have to do much because Sue here had the robber staring down the barrel of her rifle when we arrived. Her only question for us was why we took so long and did we want some pancakes. That’s why she’s more like a grandma to us than a server; she voices her opinion then feeds us pancakes. When she brings us our coffee, it’s no different than any other end of shift breakfast. “When are one of you boys gonna bring a nice girl in here?” Clicking her pen closed, she waits for the standard answers to follow.

  “I just brought...what was her name? Oh… yeah, I got nothing, but I did bring a nice lookin’ girl in here, Sue. So, there’s that.” Finn gives a one shoulder shrug and pours sugar into a cup of hot coffee Sue brought over as soon as we sat down.

  “A nice girl’s not one you met on those internets you kids are always ravin’ about.” Her stern eyes find Finn. ”What’s wrong with meetin’ a nice girl in town? I met Fred in high school.” A dreamy sigh leaves her lips. “He was my cousin Terry’s best friend, and I’ll tell you, Fred was a stubborn, stubborn man, but he came around, and when he did, I was waitin’. Married thirty years before the man left me.” Sue sniffs at the memory of her Fred, and I hate the fact she’s a widow. Such a sweet woman. “Anyhow, you boys need to find nice girls and quit messin’ around with the badge chasers.” She laughs, and says, “Didn’t know I knew that phrase did ya?”

  “No Ma’am.” We laugh before Sue goes to turn in our order to the cook.

  “Did you get on the app again?” Finn asks as he sips his coffee.

  “Didn’t Sue just lecture us on this?” He just stares at me expectantly, and I huff, “Yes, I’m still not seeing the appeal of it. I can pick up a chick anywhere. I don’t need the app.”

  “It’s not about that, man!” He sits his cup back down on the table. “The girls on this app, the majority of them just want to hook up. No commitment. No mess. Just dirty sex and send them on their way.”

  “You’re a pig,” I joke.

  “Well, duh,” Finn smirks.

  “Tell me something that I don’t know.” Harlow plops down next to Finn, and my body is immediately on alert. “Thanks for the breakfast invite.”

  “It’s eight in the morning. When do you ever meet us this early?” I deadpan and roll my eyes.

  “When my best friend says she’s hungry and five minutes away.” She leans forward, placing her forearms on the table, then clasping her fingers together.

  Moments later the tiny bell above the door rings. The dinging sends my body on high alert like I am being dinged into a twelve round heavyweight boxing match with Floyd Mayweather. Suddenly my body tenses and my heart rate spikes like I’ve just sprinted a mile, igniting an uncontainable pulsating throb in my neck. I don’t even have to turn around or acknowledge the, I’m about to fall the fuck out from excitement face, which Harlow is wearing to know… It’s her. Lundyn Spence, the only woman to make my hair stand on the back of my neck, like an animal who’s about to attack its alluring prey. And the fact that she’s the only woman who could annoy me by just the mentioning her name. Like right now when she sits her perfect petite frame right next to me in the booth.

  “Mad Mav, good to see you again—so soon.” Captivating blue eyes bore into mine with frustration as she tilts her head. “What’s it been a year?” and then she rotates her head to the other side, “Twenty minutes?” Finn snickers from across the table.

  “Neither time frame is long enough. What brings you back to Lansing— failure?”

  Lundyn makes a tsking noise while shaking her finger, “Oh, Maverick.” A smile takes over her flawless face making her look more beautiful and me more irritated. “Do you know how much ammo this finger holds? You should’ve confiscated it when you had the chance, but then again, you’ve never been good at taking anything of mine.”

  “Look at you two getting along like old times,” Finn breaks the tension with humor, like always. He knows when we get started, it always goes to a place of no return.

  Lundyn scowls at Finn, and I am relieved that he’s getting it for once.
/>   “Did I miss something?” My sister chuckles.

  “These two Super Trooper wannabe’s decided to mess with me when they pulled me over and this one,” she jabs her thumb in my direction, “touched my side boob.”

  “What?” My tone comes out a bit higher than intended because I’m guilty as sin.

  “Maverick!” Harlow slaps my arm from the other side of the table.

  “Did you forget I’m wearing this badge, Lo?” I tap the cool medal with my finger.

  Her head cocks to the side, and her lips turn up into a snarl. “And you’re telling me this because?”

  “Because you just committed a felony by slapping an officer’s arm, lil sis,” I say with an exaggerated authoritative tone.

  She dismisses my comment with a wave. “You’re off duty—doesn’t count.”

  “Nope, you just got a pass because I am about to get bacon.”

  Lundyn snickers as Harlow rolls her eyes heavenward. “Oh blow it out your ass, Mav.”

  “Damn are y’all done?” Finn asks annoyed by our sibling banter.

  We both nod— yes.

  “So like I was saying. Your girl comes flying down the highway shooting finger guns at police officers, so naturally, we thought she was dangerous.”

  “I’m such a hardened criminal that Finn here,” Lundyn throws a pointed look Finn’s direction. “Thought it would be cool to call for backup! Take one guess who that was.” She kicks her thumb my way.

  “182?” Harlow clenches her chest finding it hard to breathe through her fit of laughter.

  “You got it.” Lundyn presses her lips together and scrunches her nose while nodding.

  “Was it Riri?” With Harlow’s tone, you’d think she was asking her if it was cancer.

  “Block, block block!” Both girls make finger guns and start singing the lyrics to Rihanna’s song.

  “The icing on the cake was when I knocked on her window, and Lundyn screamed, ‘I’M CLAUSTROPHOBIC AND CAN’T BECOME SOMEONE’S BITCH!’” We all erupt into a fit of laughter, my stomach muscles tensing and almost becoming painful from it.