by D Scott
DEPUTY
By: D. Scott
© Copyright © 2018 by D. Scott
Cover art by D. Scott
All rights reserved. No part of this literary work may be duplicated, reproduced, or distributed via any electronic or printed form without permission. Please do not encourage or partake in the piracy of copyrighted materials as it is a violation of the author’s rights. Only authorized editions may be purchased by an individual.
Author’s Note: This is a work of fiction. All names, persons, places and situations created from the author’s imagination. Any reference to public locales is for atmospheric purposes to enhance the reader’s experience. The likeness of anyone or anything is unintentional.
Author Note: This is a very steamy story with insta-love and a HEA between two characters who’s age difference doesn’t define them. I hope you enjoy!
xox — D. Scott
Contents
Gina
Gina
Gavin
Gina
Gavin
Gina
Gavin
Gavin
Gina
Gina
Gavin
Gavin
Gavin
Epilogues
Coming Soon
Chapter 1
Gina
Thursday
I let my head fall against the window of the squad car, praying that my tears won't fall.
My brothers are going to kill me.
When they find out I let myself get caught and picked up by the cops, they are going to lose it on me. And the sad part is, I'm actually relieved to be in this car right now instead of lurking around sidewalk corners in my neighborhood trying not to get caught.
A single tear slips from my eyes and I quickly brush it away with my shoulder before chancing a glance forwards. I make eye contact with the sheriff in the rearview mirror but force myself to look away so I don't have to see the judgement and the disgust in his eyes. He probably thinks I'm nothing but a lowlife, and to be honest, I don't know that he's wrong. My brothers are criminals, and have no issue with it, and now they're trying to pull me into it. Which is why I'm sitting in the back of the squad car in handcuffs.
I let myself wallow in my own personal pity party for the entirety of the silent car ride, only looking up when I feel the vehicle come to a stop and the engine cut off. The buildings of the town police station sit in front of me like a vortex of doom, waiting to seal my fate.
Okay, that's a bit dramatic, but I know whatever happens next is not going to be good.
I'm pulled from my thoughts when the door next to me opens, and I flinch when I see the look of anger and disappointment on the sheriff’s face. I look away again so I don't crumble under the weight of it, and I keep my head down as he gently reaches in and pulls me out of the vehicle before escorting me towards the main building of the station. Thankfully he doesn't say anything — he hasn't since he read me my rights — and I don't offer up anything either.
We enter through the double doors of the building and walk through a throng of people to the booking area. There's a robust woman standing behind a tall desk waiting to begin my booking process but the officer escorting me waives her off with a kind smile.
"Why don't you head to lunch early, Alice, I'll handle the booking for this one."
The pity and disappointment in his voice is not hard to miss, and it makes me want to cry again.
"You got it, sheriff. I'll just go heat up my leftover casserole and I'll be back."
I avoid looking into her pity-filled gaze as she passes by us, keeping my eyes on the floor. I stand still in front of the tall desk while the sheriff moves behind it to access information on the desktop computer and leaf through a massive stack of papers. I let my mind go blank as the sheriff follows a series of standard procedures, having me sign several documents, stamp my fingerprints, and stand for a mugshot. It's like my worst nightmare coming to life.
Once the booking is complete, the sheriff escorts me to a desk in the main area of the station. He sits me down and boots up the computer before pulling out a pen and notepad.
"Okay, Gina, I'm going to need you to tell me everything that happened and how you ended up in a position to be arrested."
I look up from my lap to the notepad and pen before meeting the sheriff's gaze. He doesn't come right out and say it, but I know what he's looking for. He wants me to snitch on my brothers and the drug operation they have going on.
"I don't know what you want me to say."
My answer is a lie, I know exactly what he wants me to say but I can't do it. I can't snitch on my own brothers. I won't.
His voice hardens. "Come on, Gina. I need you to be smart here. I know you didn't get stuck in this position by yourself, you don't have to take the fall for this."
He speaks like he believes what he's saying, like he knows I'm better than this. But he's wrong, if I was I wouldn't be here right now. And now that I am, I can't snitch on my own blood.
My older brothers have been everything to me. They raised me, kept a roof over my head, and gifted me with a car when I turned sixteen two years ago. They haven't gone about it in the most respectable ways, but I won't turn my back on them — they're all I have. And until now they've always kept me out of their dealings.
I look away, unable to hold his gaze anymore.
"I can't." My words are no more than a whisper.
He leans back in the chair with a sigh. "You've got to give me something Gina, anything." The frustration in his voice is evident, but I shake my head in refusal. I won't turn on my brothers. Ever.
The sheriff grunts something unintelligible under his breath and begins tapping away on the computer keyboard. It's several minutes before he speaks again,
"Look, it's going to be at least twenty-four hours before I can get you in front of a judge. I can't guarantee they will go easy on you because you’re young, but being that this is your first offense helps. But, Gina, being picked up for suspicion to possess illegal substances with the intent to sell is a pretty steep charge. You could help yourself out by telling me the full story."
A swell of annoyance builds within me at his constant mentioning of my fate and how helpful it would be for me to snitch on my brothers, and before I know it I snap out, "It's gonna happen, I'm not a snitch." With one hand cuffed to the table, I use the other to pull the pen and notepad closer to begin writing my statement, not even look up when the sheriff is called away to take a phone call in his office.
By the time I'm finished writing an omitted version of the truth of how I got caught for suspicion of selling pot, the sun has set and there's only a handful of people left in the station. I don't even realize I've dozed off until I'm jolted awake by a thick file being dropped on the desk I'm cuffed to.
The sheriff looks to the pad that I wrote my statement on then points to the folder in front of me. "This is the file we have on your brothers and their illegal activity, but we haven't been able to pin them down for their whole operation. You could help us, and yourself Gina. All you have to do is tell me what you know and how it got you here."
I scoff and shake my head at him. "Damn, you're persistent aren't you."
My voice is full of attitude that I probably shouldn't be directing at the sheriff considering my already precarious future, but I can't help it. It's either throw some sass or dissolve into a heap of tears.
And that, I refuse to do.
"They didn't make me sheriff because of my good looks and charming personality." The sarcasm in his tone makes me smirk.
I have to say though, the sheriff looks surprisingly young and attractive with his shaved head and intense blue eyes. I wouldn't say he's got a charm about him, but the brooding authoritative vibe he
gives off is appealing in its own way.
Not that I'd ever say that out loud.
My brothers are already going to lose their shit at the fact that I got arrested, I don't need them finding out that I think the sheriff is easy on the eyes, too. They'd lose their minds.
"Look, I know you're trying to do right by them," he says, "but you can't let your loyalty to them ruin your future."
I want to ask him, 'What future?' But I resist.
Growing up in my neighborhood and trying not to be too much of a nuisance while my brothers did whatever they had to do to provide for us is all I've ever known. I've never really thought about a future beyond finishing high school and saving all the money can from working at the local bar and grille in town. And with this arrest I guess I can kiss any other dream goodbye.
I give the sheriff another head shake.
"You don't understand, I can't," I say softly, and chance another glance at him.
He stares down at me another moment, studying me it seems, then sighs in disappointment and rubs his hand across the back of his neck. He reaches into his wallet and pulls out what looks like a business card and hands it to me.
"Here, this is my card. If you change your mind in the future, or ever need anything at all, give me a call."
I take the card with my free hand, eyeing it warily. "Why are you giving this to me? Why do you even care what happens to me?"
His eyes soften as he looks down at me. "I'm the sheriff — I care about what happens to everyone in this town. Even those who struggle to care about their own well being."
The gentleness in his voice has me biting the inside of my cheek so I don't let a tear escape at his thoughtful words and I just nod my head.
He looks around. "Looks like the day shift has much swapped out with the night screw. Come on, I'll get you set up in a cell before I leave for the night."
I nod again, sitting patiently as he uncuffs me from the desk before standing and following him through the main area of the station towards a darkened hallway. I try not to stiffen up with self-preservation as we move through the empty corridor.
He looks over at me. "Don't worry, there's no one else in lock up tonight so you won't be bothered." His words ease the tension I'm feeling, slightly. I'm still not thrilled at the prospect of spending the night in lockup and having this blemish on my permanent record, but I won't be a snitch.
I'm pulled from my thoughts when he stops in front of an empty metal cell. He pulls out a key and opens the cell, which is bare except for a dilapidated cot, a rusted toilet, and a tiny sink. I walk inside the small space without any prompting and sit down on the cot, then look up to see Sheriff Forrester still standing at the door to the cell.
"I know the conditions aren't the greatest but hopefully it's only for one night, and the judge can have you out of here by tomorrow evening at the latest."
I give him a small smile of thanks at his visible concern for my well-being, even if he is just doing his job.
"I'll be fine, thanks."
He nods. "Goodnight, Gina."
"Goodnight, sheriff."
I wait for him to lock up my cell and walk back to the main part of the station before settling back further onto the cot. Even though I'm the only one back here I don't want to let my guard down by just laying down and going to sleep. So instead I move to the head of the cot and sit up with my back against the wall. I pull my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around my legs before resting my chin on my knees. I close my eyes and start to silently spell out the menu from Lone Star Bar and Grille from top to bottom. And once I finish that, I do the same thing from bottom to top then move on to spelling the entire menu backwards.
The sudden clearing of a throat jolts me and I nearly fly off the bed. It's several minutes before I can calm my heart rate back down to a sensible pace, and even then I'm still huffing like I just finished a marathon. When I finally recover enough to look up at the stranger who caused my near heart attack my heart practically stops as I look into the most vivid green eyes I've ever seen.
Before I can even take another breath, I feel warmth seep out of me and into my panties. I bite my lip against my body's sudden reaction.
I've never gotten wet for a guy before, certainly not any of the boys I go to school with, so it's foreign territory for me. I'm partially worried that he's going to sense my body's reaction to him, and I have an internal panic attack for an entire minute until I realize he's not aware of my body's reaction but rather waiting for me to say something.
"Hi." My greeting gets caught in my throat, so I clear it before making an effort to speak again. "Um, hi."
He smirks before returning the greeting, and everything in my womb clenches. The sound of his voice has more wetness seeping out of me, and I force myself to hold in a gasp at the sensation of arousal pooling between my thighs, something I've never experienced before this moment. We stare at each other silently, and I use the opportunity to take in every inch of him and he's not small by any means. He's actually freaking massive — only an inch or so shorter than the sheriff — who is also gigantic come to think of it. But where the sheriff has a shaved head and deep blue eyes, this officer has short blonde hair, a little longer on top, and electric green eyes. He's a bit leaner in comparison to the sheriff, but still has an appealing amount of bulk to him. His face is all sharp angles and well-defined planes that give off a badass vibe yet still has boy-next-door charm. It's both fascinating and undeniably sexy, and I'm so caught up in getting my fill of staring at him that I don't even realize he's doing the same. His eyes are on my legs and I drop my gaze to see what he's staring at. I quickly realize that he's not staring at my legs but rather at my pleated denim skirt, which is now flipped up from when I was jolted from my internal spelling bee a couple minutes ago. I should probably be mortified that my skirt accidentally flipped up so high that my black cotton panties are visible to him, and a part of me is, but another part of me — a stronger part of me — is turned on knowing he's entranced by seeing what's under my skirt.
Before I know what's happening, my legs are easing apart just a fraction, slightly exposing more of my cheeky-cut panties. I swear they move on their own accord, but my entire body freezes when the look on the officer's face changes. All at once his jaw hardens, his nostrils flare, and his eyes darken with a heat that has me on the verge of soaking my already damp panties. He continues to stare at my covered center, and I do the only thing I can think of by covering my rapidly dampening core with my hand. It's like I'm under a spell and I can't bring myself to close my legs from him. His eyes linger on the spot where my hand is placed between my legs for another moment before shifting upwards. His gaze sweeps over my breasts, and I feel my nipples tingle and harden in response, before his eyes connect with mine.
"You alright in there? Can I get you anything?"
His words are low and gruff, making it slightly difficult to understand him, but he doesn't make an effort to repeat himself. I bite my lip and shake my head, hoping that's enough of an answer for him. Instead of replying, he holds my gaze for another moment before giving me a quick nod and walking away. I hold my breath for another ten or so seconds after he leaves before finally letting out a deep sigh. Finally having him walk away is a relief. I've never encountered feelings of arousal and sexual interest before and I'm not quite sure what to make of it.
My relief is short lived though.
He comes back a moment later carrying a couple of items and I stay very still, watching to see what his next move will be. When he stops in front of my cell once more, he holds out the items — a thin blanket and pillow — in front of him.
"Here, take these. Should make tonight a bit more bearable for you."
Wow, that's not what I was expecting.
I immediately start to shake my head no. I've never been arrested before but I'm pretty sure it isn't the norm for dreamy blond-haired green-eyed officers to offer stuff like this to locked up misf
its.
"No thanks, really, I'm fine. There's no need for those but thank you, officer."
"Deputy."
"I'm sorry?" I question, misunderstanding his reply.
"I'm a deputy — Deputy Brooks. I'm Sheriff Forester's second-in-command, and I insist that you take them. You're the only one in lock up tonight, and it can get pretty cold, and you don't have much on."
His eyes darken as he says that, and it makes me squirm ever so slightly on the cot.
"I, um, I—"
"Just take them. It's only for the night."
There's something about the tone of his voice, it's both commanding and soothing at the same time, and I find myself wanting to accept whatever it is he requests of me.
"Okay." My acquiescence is no louder than a whisper but I know he hears me.
I slide off the cot and walk the few feet over to the metal bars of the cell that separate me from the sexy deputy and the rest of the outside world. Again my body has a mind of its own as my hips add an extra sway and my breasts bounce with added exaggeration as I make my way over to him. I bite my lip as I take the pillow and blanket when he hands them to me through the metal bars.
“Thank you,” I whisper. I have no idea why but I’m feeling extremely shy in his presence now that I’ve let him see my panties and basically put my body on display as I walked over to him.
Willing this strange encounter to end, I hurry back to the cot to set down the items. I bend over and fluff the small pillow before turning my attention to unfolding the blanket. It’s only when I’m done with my task that I realize I never heard the deputy’s footsteps as he walked away, and a glance to the front of the cell reveals why. He’s still there, standing right outside the metal bars staring at me intently — almost heatedly even — I’ve never had anyone look at me in such a way so I’m not entirely certain.
I can’t think of anything else to do being that I’m locked in this tiny metal cell for twenty-four hours, so I sit down on the cot and lean my back up against the wall like I was before, only this time I reluctantly use the blanket to cover my lower half. When I meet his gaze again, he’s still in the same stance in the same spot with the same heated look in his eyes and I feel more wetness seep into my panties. We hold each other’s gaze until the silence becomes too much for me to bear so I clear my throat before offering him my name.