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 third picture was of Reagan’s forearms—her defensive wounds that she’d acquired while trying to push the piece of shit off of her.
But the pictures weren’t what I was searching for. It was the voice recording.
Pulling it up, I hit play and allowed both the woman and Dusty to hear Reagan’s cries and pleas.
Hell, the three other closest tables heard as well.
It didn’t bother me that they did.
I wanted everyone in the world to know what a piece of shit Dusty was.
Once I hit the minute and a half mark, I looked the girl in her eyes and said, “That was him.”
She jerked out of Dusty’s hold so fast and harshly, that she fell into me.
My body absorbed the blow, but before I could reach up to steady her, she was gone.
My eyes met Dusty’s.
I didn’t say anything. Didn’t threaten him like I wanted to. Didn’t kick his ass, even though it deserved a kicking more than any ass in the world. I also didn’t pull my sidearm out and kill him, although I will admit that the idea crossed my mind and I was tempted to end this piece of shit’s life before he harmed Reagan, or anybody else for that matter, ever again.
He read every word of my hatred for him in my eyes.
And when I was sure he got the message, I turned around and walked away.
Passing Bennett, I headed to my cruiser and prayed that when I got to Rome’s place, Reagan would forgive me.
Because if I didn’t have her in my arms tonight while I faked sleep, there was no telling what I might do.
Chapter 18
Don’t embarrass a guy by telling him his fly is open in public. Do the right thing and zip it up yourself.
-Janie to Reagan
Reagan
“You can take pictures of whatever you can see while I’m fully clothed,” I said. “But you can’t take the pictures of anything underneath my clothes. I might be mad at Tyler, but I’m not stupid.”
Rome chuckled, then started to snap pictures of my injuries with his cell phone.
“There was this chick that filed a report on a teammate,” he started, snapping a photo of the bruise on my cheek. “She was scared to death, had zero money to her name, but she did it anyway.” Rome paused. “She was offered a payoff to let it go, but she wouldn’t take it. She just kept doggedly pursuing it because she knew she was in the right and she didn’t want anybody else in the world to have to go through what she went through. It took her two years, but she finally won.”
I shrugged. “If I file a report on him, he’s just going to go to his daddy and use his ‘get out of jail free’ card. The case will be dropped, or he’ll make me look so bad that I’ll drop it myself. I know how Dusty and Judge Rhymes work. Trust me when I say that I don’t want to get into it.”
Rome sighed. “Nobody is infallible.”
I knew that.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “But, I also have to worry about Tyler…and my father. They’re police officers. This shit will be spread far and wide.”
“That’s not going to be something that upsets Tyler, honey,” Rome pointed out. “In fact, when he left, he looked like he was ready to tear the whole goddamn sheriff’s office apart. Trust me when I say, if there is justice to be had, he’s going to make sure you have it. He’s not going to stop until this is fixed.”
I didn’t want to hear that.
I’d tried fighting Dusty before.
He played dirty.
I may not mind getting my fingernails dirty for my work, but I didn’t want to get into the filth that Dusty was capable of hurling my way.
Anything else in the world, I could handle. But the way Dusty played? No. I didn’t want to think about it.
“It’ll be fine,” I told him.
Rome gave me a sardonic smile. “Maybe you don’t know Tyler as well as I thought you did.”
I bared my teeth at him.
Then looked around his sparsely furnished place.
“Why do you live here?” I asked. “And if you’re going to live in such a nice place, why don’t you have furniture? I’m fairly positive that you can afford it.”
Rome snorted. “I can, but I also don’t want to deal with the shit that comes with furnishing it when I plan to sell it.”
“Why do you plan to sell it?” I asked, admiring the view.
Rome cleared his throat. “I bought it for my son…but Tara refuses to allow me to have him and with him being so sick, he hasn’t set one foot in the place even on my days with him.”
I knew what he was thinking.
That his son might not live long enough to ever enjoy the house, so why bother keeping it?