“And you didn’t even throw a shoulder?”
“Not this time.”
“So it wasn’t anything. It’s like you went for brunch?”
“Pretty much,” Trick says.
“When you get arrested on your own, it’s boring as hell.”
Trick smirks. “They came in hot, then nothing. For fun, I tried to strap on a gun. It was almost exciting.”
“Bullshit,” Stroviak says.
Trick nods.
“Why aren’t you shot?”
“Guess they got distracted by how pretty I am. I was naked when they got there.”
“Their best chance to shoot you, and they let it go?” Stroviak shakes his head. “In your place, if I’d raised my fists they’d have shot me six times, minimum. Let alone a gun. How did they put you in a car, transport you, and not leave a scratch?”
“They brought me coffee too.”
“Assholes.”
“Yeah, that’s the FBI now. Soft as baby food.”
I’m bewildered by their joking exchange. Is he kidding right now? “How many times have you been arrested?”
Trick adjusts his vent so the warm air blows toward my feet. “Twelve.”
“They interrogated me like I was under arrest with you.”
“Good girl,” he whispers, kissing the side of my face.
“What?” I push him away irritably.
“They tried to get you to roll on me, and you didn’t.”
“Says who?”
“Me.”
I shift uncomfortably; the pain when I’m sitting is intense. “I need to get out. I need stand up.” Trying to stand in the truck doesn’t work well.
“Here.” Trick grabs me and positions me so I’m sitting on his lap facing him, with my knees on the seat and the back of my thighs on his. My butt hangs in the air. His arm across my back keeps me in position. “Better?”
My face flames with embarrassment, and my voice is a whisper. “I hate you.”
“I know.”
I decide he only says that to make me feel better. He knows very well I don’t hate him since I’ve just protected him from the FBI, at my own expense.
My understanding of my own actions is less certain. All I understand is that I trust the FBI less than I trust Trick and his C Crue friends, so now I’m in league with criminals.
* * *
Trick
