“He had some bullshit excuse,” she conveys. “Said my headlights were dim. Since when does something like that catch their attention? And newsflash, Viking, they aren’t. They’re LED and are blinding to anyone I’m behind or anyone I’m facing head on, if anything, the headlight association should be ripping them a new asshole.”
Humor dances its way through me as I ask her, “Headlight association?” She always has this unique way of calming the raging beast inside of me with some of her quirkiness.
She places her hands on her hips and gives me a death stare. “Don’t fuck with me right now, Icer. I’m livid. Those pieces of shit left my car in disarray. They even disassembled my glove box without due cause. It takes money to fix shit like that.”
As she rants and raves, I walk out of the house and head toward her car where LoneStar is now taking photos. “What’s the damage?” When he looks up at me, I see nothing but anger staring back at me. “That bad, huh?”
“Worse,” he spits out. “I got it all on recording, Icer. I was ordered to stand down and let it play out. That’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. I’m not sure what they damaged more, her property or her person.”
“They got rough with her?” I inquire, my entire being simmering with fury. She may not technically be mine, but to me, she is, and nobody is permitted to lay a damn finger on her, not even me. “Show me, LoneStar.”
“It ain’t pretty, Icer. They said some despicable, derogatory slurs,” he warns me before cueing up the video and handing it to me. “It still makes me sick to my stomach when I replay it in my mind.”
His words have my body vibrating as I press the play button. My vision turns red the longer I watch them manhandle her and hear the nauseating things they say. My stomach churns when it registers that this was most certainly race motivated, my kill mode is activated. At first, I thought him harassing her would be about us and our declared war with Maloney’s kid, Jerome, the leader of the Onyx dipshits. That may be a small part of it, but it’s not the key component—my earlier prediction, before I got my hands on LoneStar’s phone, couldn’t be further from the truth now that I’m watching the recording.
“Did you send this to Rip and Slayer?” I ask through gritted teeth.
“I forwarded it to them and Booker. Who’s anonymously sending it into the authorities,” he tells me.
“They are the authorities,” I remind him.
“But the Texas Rangers are higher up in ranking and supersede them, Icer,” he states. “Booker told me they’re already building a case against Maloney and his squad. The more evidence we can give them, the better and stronger their case gets. The sooner they can take his badge, the better.”
“It’s not going to be soon enough,” I forcefully point out. “How much more evidence do they need before they’ll step in and end his reign of terror?”
“That’s a good question and one I wish I had the answer for,” LoneStar states.
“Same, brother. Are you getting photo evidence of her car?” I ask, ready to wrap up this conversation so I can get inside and tend to Letti.
“Yes. I’m documenting everything, including the trash they tossed inside,” he informs me.
Clenching my fist, I ask, “Was it theirs?”
He nods his head, saying, “Yep. Every wrapper and wadded up piece of paper was theirs. She keeps her car pristine, brother.” There are reasons for that, but I’m not getting into it with him. It’s not my business to share.
Peering over the driver’s side door, I inquire, “Anything that’d incriminate them?”
“I’ll check once I’m done documenting everything. Go check on her, she took it hard when they started spewing their hate at her,” he recommends.
“That’s the plan,” I admit as I turn around on my feet and send him a salute over my shoulder.
When I breach the doorway, Letti is walking out, freshly showered. She’s dressed in a pair of sweatpants and an overly large T-shirt that swallows her whole. Upon closer inspection, I notice it’s one of mine and pride hits me square in the chest. She needed something of mine to comfort her through her emotional upheaval.
“Hope you’re not disappointed, Viking, but I don’t think I feel up to going out tonight,” she says, sighing.
“Not disappointed in the least, Letti. How about I order something for us to eat and we watch a movie in the living room? Maybe a comedy? We’ll kick up our feet and try to forget this day ever happened.”
“I don’t think I’ll forget this day for as long as I live,” she acknowledges, frowning. “I’ve had insults tossed at me my entire life, but never from a lawman.”
“People in authoritative positions can be just as cruel and supremacist as those who aren’t, Letti. We’ve both seen that firsthand. Bullshit beliefs are spread far and wide, just because somebody swears to uphold the laws of man and be a protector for the people they serve, doesn’t mean they live up to the status quo of what we think that should be. Maloney is a damn good example of that.”
“I know,” she whispers. “But it still hurts.”
“I know it does, Letti,” I affirm, keeping my tone calm and collected so she doesn’t see how I really feel about this entire thing.
Iamhomicidal.
Regrettably, I’m not good at this emotional shit, I never know the right things to say so I don’t know how to comfort her when she needs it most. Makes me wish I could kick my own ass for being so damn detached.
