Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 73192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73192 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
The moment that we made it out of the door and onto the porch, Tara had come out of her room to glare at Rome.
But, what she did do, was go to the back of the couch and look over it to peer at the sleeping boy.
I frowned at seeing the relief there.
Tara, despite her faults, cared about her son.
Which made me feel at least a little bit better knowing she wasn’t a completely unfeeling cyborg.
She at least had some capacity for love.
“Fuckin’ makes me sick,” Liner said, glancing over his shoulder.
“What?” I asked.
“Her,” he murmured. “I hate that she does this to him when their boy is slowly declining. Rome found out today that they’d have to switch to a more aggressive type of therapy for him because his body wasn’t responding well to the other. Then she makes him fuckin’ leave because it’s ‘not his day.’”
I looked over at Liner, who was looking at Rome and Tara talking softly in the middle of the living room.
I glanced there, too.
There was definitely no love lost between the two of them, that was for sure.
I looked back at Liner. “You know our history?”
He nodded.
“Then why don’t you hate me?”
Liner blinked. “Because.” He paused. “Rome doesn’t hate you.”
Simple as that.
Rome doesn’t hate you.
That was all that mattered.
“Fuck.”
Liner’s lips twitched. “Not to mention I’ve had my own share of cheating girlfriends. It seems I only attract the ones without the fidelity bone.”
I snorted. “I would’ve said that, too, but…”
My phone rang before I could get the rest of my response to his admission out.
Reaching into my pocket, I placed the phone to my ear.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Ummm, Tyler?” Katy, my office chick, said quickly, sounding worried. “I think you better get back here.”
I frowned. “Why?”
Katy blew out a breath. “Because Reagan was just brought in for trespassing…and she looks like someone walked over her grave.”
I didn’t stop to think. Didn’t stop to say goodbye. Only got on my bike and left.
Vaguely I was aware of Rome and Liner getting on their bikes and following after me, but I didn’t once slow down to allow them to catch up.
I had a girl to bail out of jail. Plus, something more would’ve had to happen for one of my officers to bring her in.
Chapter 15
What do I like most about my job? Lunch breaks and leaving.
Reagan
With little else to do but cool my jets, I decided to follow up on a tip that came in from a few locals about a new bed of hydrilla taking over a man’s property, making it hard for him to get in and out of his dock with his boat.
The only problem with that was that it was the part of the lake where people who weren’t exactly nice lived.
The reason I knew that they weren’t nice was due to the fact that I’d already tried to get a sample once, but everywhere I tried to go, I was very obviously rebuffed.
This time, I wouldn’t ask, I’d just go.
I’d get in and out really quick and it would be fine…right?
Wrong.
I found that out the hard way half an hour later.
I was in my little, ten-foot, flat bottom boat with its tiny seven and a half horsepower motor when I gently glided up onto the bank next to a tree that was covered in the beautiful moss that I would’ve loved to get a sample of.
Instead of giving in to the urge, I leaned over and studied the area where the boat was gently rocking.
No hydrilla.
I frowned.
My eyes automatically roamed over the area and I felt my heart skip a beat when I saw a man standing on the edge of the bank two lots down staring directly at me.
The same man that I’d tattled on about having hydrilla on his boat trailer—the passenger.
He saw me and his eyes narrowed.
I swallowed and put my hand down on the side of the boat, moments away from pushing back off the bank when a hand grabbed the wrist that was about to reach for the paddle.
I didn’t even have to look up at the body that belonged to that hand to know who it was.
Dusty.
He had a tattoo on his thumb of a key. There was no mistaking who it belonged to.
Not to mention, Dusty had very delicate, unmanly hands. Pairing them with the old skeleton key tattoo and I knew without needing any further confirmation that it was him.
“Let me go,” I ordered, yanking at my hand.
The hand only tightened.
I looked up to find Dusty standing in the water up to his ankles, getting his pretty Oxford shoes muddy.
He didn’t seem to care, however.
His eyes were focused solely on me and he was not happy.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he growled.
My puppy who was in the boat behind me growled.
Dusty didn’t react other than tightening his grip on my wrist.