The one thing that stays in my mind is the look of utter regret in Zephyr's eyes when he said the 'l' word, as if he wanted to take it back.
Chapter Sixteen
Zephyr
I know he doesn't belong here just by the way I hear him walking behind me, long before I hear him calling out to me.
"Hey, Sheriff. Sheriff. I'm looking for someone. Marlowe Evans."
I turn around slowly, my blood already boiling at the sound of her name coming from this man's mouth. He says it with a familiarity that irks me.
"Can you tell me where I can find her?"
He's exactly what I expected: slicked-back hair, wearing one of those designer suits that cost more than some people's life savings, and his shoes gleaming without a speck of dust. He tosses his paper coffee cup into a bin welded onto a lamppost and misses, not bothering to pick it up.
I fucking hate the sight of him.
"Unless you have a warrant, I don't give out personal information," I say, dismissing him.
He laughs. "Look, Marlowe is my girlfriend—actually, she's going to be my fiancée, when she returns to her senses, that is."
I don't rethink my actions. I tell myself I'm applying just the right amount of pressure. Everything is fine. But fuck, it is not.I have the man's face pressed against the glass window of my office as I twist his arms behind his back.
"Hey, hey, hey, what are you doing?" He's resisting, but he's no match for me.
"Name?" I bark, easily subduing him.
"What the hell?" he whines.
"Name?" I repeat with enough venom in my voice to paralyze him for life.
"My name is Tony Merritt. Remember it, because I'm going to make your life a living hell when I'm done with you," he spits.
"Mr. Merritt, I'm placing you under arrest."
"What the hell for?"
"Littering," I mutter as I force him into the office and into the holding cell. "The punishment is a twenty-four-hour hold and a fine." I also remove his phone, because why fucking not.
"Do you know who I am? Do you know who I am?" he repeats as if I didn't hear him the first time. "I'm giving you ten seconds to remove these cuffs, or you're going to face a level of trouble you can't afford."
"Yeah?" I say as I shove him forward.
"Look. This is about Marlowe Evans. She ran away from home without a trace. Her father is worried sick. She needs to come home at once. Release me right now,” he says, then changes tact. “Okay, we got off on the wrong foot. You can write me a fine for the littering. Easy."
"She's a big girl, capable of making her own decisions. If she ran away from home, she had her reasons."
Goddammit. If I have to look at this guy's mug a second longer...
But I don't have to listen to him rant about the trouble I'm going to be in, the money I don't have to get myself out of it if I don't do his bidding. I should just fucking tell him where she is. Wasn't this supposed to happen anyway?
I'm not thinking clearly. Or maybe I am. Thankfully, the office is empty. Everyone is on a lunch break, and I don't have to explain myself.
On my way to my desk, I grab a roll of duct tape and, using my teeth and one hand, peel off a strip to gag Mr. I'm-a-hotshot-lawyer-and-Marlowe-is-my...
His fiancée.
I throw him into the cell amidst the gargling sounds he's making, spewing threats. Possibly how he's going to slap me with a thousand-dollar bill just because he can when he gets out of here.
