Hold Me Like This (A second chance, small town romance) (Love Me Like This Book 3)
Page 17
“What? You’re arresting me?”
“Not yet, but the night is young,” I reply as I open the back of the squad car and watch her get in. She’s so pissed her face is red, and she’s glaring at me like I’ve just killed her dog or something. I tell one of the uniforms to drive her to the station and I will follow. As the car drives away, “Ms. Charm School” turns and gives me the finger. Decker runs towards me and tell me that Donavan is in the wind. Fuck.
“We have a BOLO on him but for now, he’s gone,” Decker says.
“Let’s send a couple of units to his ex-girl’s house in Queens. They’re not together anymore but she might know where he’s likely to run to.”
“I’m already on it. What’s the deal with the dumpster diver chick?” he asks.
“I had them take her in.”
“Wyatt, you think she’s a part of this?”
“In my gut, no. But she’s screwed this up for us and I just want to make sure she has nothing to do with this investigation.”
“Did she say why she jumped out of a window?”
“No, but I’m guessing it was to get away from someone, a boyfriend maybe.”
“Well shit, how bad does he have to be for her to prefer the trash?”
“There are plenty of times I’d pick the trash over facing one of my exes. Hell, leaping into a dumpster might be the smartest thing she’s done.”
“You’re right. I should have picked the dumpster a few times myself. Like on my wedding day. That way, I wouldn’t have to deal with the shit storm I’m in now,” he says bitterly. I can tell he’s thinking about his soon-to-be ex-wife because his face is twisted in anger. Decker is an easy-going guy and a really fucking good cop. But his ex has done some really messed-up shit, and now it’s easier to get out of a war-torn country than to get out of his marriage.
“You need help with the nut job?” he asks.
“Nah, I got it. Go home. Get some rest. We’ll regroup in the morning.”
Decker nods back towards me. “By the way, stay away from her. The hot ones are always the craziest.”
***
It’s easy to see she doesn’t belong in an interrogation room. Her big eyes scan her surrounding with uncertainty. I introduce myself. She remains silent. I study her. She’s even more mesmerizing than I first thought. I place a notepad in front of her and ask for her statement. When she’s done, she slides it across the table to me.
“You need to let me go. I didn’t do anything wrong,” she says firmly. Her tone wants to come off as in control and in command. But it’s easy to see that behind her eyes, she’s panicking. I’m pretty sure she’s not involved but I need to know for sure. I also find the thought of letting her walk away from me…unsettling.
“You have no idea who this man is or what he does for a living?” I ask as I place the mugshots of Donavan on the table in front of her.
“No,” she says with an attitude.
“And what about these guys?” I ask as I place pictures of Donavan’s crew before her. She shakes her head.
“Why did you jump? Did some woman enter the restaurant and find you with her man?”
“What? No!” she says, clearly affronted.
“Then what could have been so bad that you had to jump?”
“If you must know, I was running from an ex. Okay?”
“So, just to be clear, you’re single?” I ask before I can stop myself.
“Does that matter?”
“I ask the questions here. Not you.”
“You’re holding me here against my will. So am I under arrest?”
“No.”
“Then I can go.”
“Yeah, you can.”
“Good,” she says as she marches towards the door.
“Hey,” I call out.
“What?!”
“Your ex was a dick.”
“You don’t even know him,” she says.
“It’s an educated guess.”
“The shots must have sounded closer than they were, right? I mean, how close did I come to…” Her voice trails off.
She came very damn close to a bullet in the head. Had I gotten to her a fraction of a second later, we’d be making notifications to her family. But I can’t bring myself to say that to her, not seeing the terror in her eyes as tonight’s events begin to sink in.
“Donavan is a lousy shot,” I lie.
She nods and gives me a small smile but it’s not real. She’s freaking out. She’s just doing it internally. I get it. She turns towards the door and I spot her hands shaking. Crap.
“Hey, I’ll take you home.”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Yeah, I know. Still taking you home.”
“I can refuse,” she pushes.
“Let’s go,” I order as I walk towards her. I open the door and wait for her to walk through it.
“You don’t have my permission to take me home, Mr. Hunter,” she says, gritting her teeth.
“Here’s what you need to know about me: I don’t ask permission...”
END OF SAMPLE
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