I swallow back the urge to push her away. The urge to pull her closer.
A low whistle rends the air. “Not much of a bike man, but this thing sure is nice. What do you suppose something like this costs?”
Murphy.
Grace freezes, her eyes locked on mine. Even cloaked in darkness, the anger in them is obvious. Maybe even a little fear. I don’t like it. When this OPP bullshit is all said and done, that guy is gonna get my boot in his ass.
“Focus,” Sergeant Allen says. “Has it been searched?”
“Uh, no. Sir. Not really much to search.” Miller. Allen’s new best buddy.
After we released Grace last night, Allen laid into me for over an hour. According to him, I’m too soft. Not the cop he thought I was. We were supposed to be prepared to dowhatever it takes.
I’m all for fucking with the Sinners. A little friction between us and them is expected. Donovan’s got a threshold, and I know exactly where the line is. How to keep the peace while still saving face. But I’m not about marking up a woman like he did, and I definitely won’t allow whatever the hell was about to go down in that cell. Obviously I can be bendy when it comes to the law, but Allen pushed that shit too far.
Grace lets out a small breath, and then that hand of hers moves. Under my shirt. To my chest. Down my stomach and lower. Lower. My dick twitches. God. Not the fucking time. ButI don’t stop her. I let those fingers tread down to the edge of my jeans and then?—
Just as she grips the wad of cash stuffed into my pants, I snag her wrist and glare.
Smiling, she tugs, again trying to pull it from my pants.
“Check the seat,” Allen says.
Behind me, feet shuffle, and there’s a rustling sound as they inspect Grace’s bike.
When I can’t easily break her grasp on the package in my jeans, I yank her into me, holding her against my chest, pinning her arm between us and restricting her movements. For good measure, I snake my arm around her middle, only to graze a hard metal object. We both freeze as I clutch the gun tucked into the back of her waistband.
A fucking gun. I throw her a look of disbelief.
She only smiles, once again struggling to break free. Grace is shockingly strong for her size, but I’ve got a hell of a grip on her now. What the hell was she planning to do with that gun tonight? Shoot me?
“Hear that?” Allen asks.
We both freeze.Shit.
“Raccoons probably,” Miller says. “Got a strange number of abandoned cars in these parts. They hide out in the trunks sometimes.”
“Sinners,” Allen mutters. “Gangs use cars to transport drugs. They buy ’em cheap, dump their stash, and the dealer picks up. Common tactic.”
“Oh. Uh. Really?” Miller asks.
A scoff. Allen, I think. “The police work is just fucking pristine in this town. Yeah, Miller, really.”
The shuffling starts up again, and a bike seat lands on the ground.
“Nothing here,” Murphy says.
“I want this thing torn apart. Top to bottom.”
Miller clears his throat. “We, uh, got a warrant for that?”
“Do we need one, Officer Miller?” Allen says, tone sharp.
“Uh. Well,” Miller says, but then he falls quiet, like he’s being subjected to one of Sergeant Allen’s alpha-bitch-boy stare downs.
“Do we have an understanding?” Allen asks.
“Yes, sir,” Miller says.
