What I’m worried about, though, is her running her mouth. I love that smart-ass mouth of hers, but it can get her into trouble. Hampton is already hot-headed enough. He doesn’t need her encouragement, and knowing my wife? She laid into him.
Hard.
She’s hell on wheels. She won’t go down without a fight, especially not since she knows why this guy is after me. She didn’t like hearing how he roughed me up long before she knew me. She was ready to throw blows right then and there.
The clock ticks on the wall, and I look over and check the time. I’ve been in here for thirty minutes. That’s thirty minutes Hampton has been pressing my wife’s buttons. Thirty minuteswhere he could have his buddies give him a room with her without any monitoring.
My anger rises. If he touches her, I will kill him with my bare hands right here in the middle of the station, consequences be damned.
Where the fuck is my lawyer?
The sound of the doorknob turning resonates throughout the sterile room. Instead of my lawyer stepping through, though, Detective Hampton does.
Fuck.
I tip my head back and sigh.
This is exactly what I need right now.
“Hampton, I’d say it’s good to see you again, but I don’t fucking like you,” I say as I look back at him.
He smirks as he drags the chair against the cement floor, making it whine before dropping into it.
“Miss me?” he quips.
“I forgot you existed, to be honest,” I say nonchalantly.
His jaw clenches.
“You know, I always knew you were a little shit, and seeing you now? Well, it’s proof that a tiger doesn’t change its stripes. You were a hellion, already well on your way to a life of crime as a kid. Looks like you kept at it, but only got deeper,” he starts, trying to push buttons.
If he thinks telling me I’m a delinquent is going to do anything for him, he’s mistaken.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Last I checked, the only thing on my record is a ticket for a taillight out about five years ago,” I say, keeping my cool.
He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms. “Come on, we both know you and that little club of yours noses aren’t clean. You run with the Devil’s Den for Chrissake. You have ties toother clubs. If their hands are dirty, it’s safe to say yours are as well.”
“Sounds like you’re projecting. Does that mean you sold yourself too? All that time you were undercover working with call girls…” I smirk. “I didn’t realize that you can be guilty by association. Last I checked, you need evidence.”
His jaw clenches.
“Your wife talked. I’ll give her credit. She gave it the good ol’ college try. She tried to stay quiet, but you know that mouth of hers, it got the best of her, and she let it all out,” he says, changing the subject.
I almost laugh in his face, but I don’t. My girl didn’t say a word. I know that with my whole being. Still, it doesn’t mean I am not nervous about what he might have done to her. I can’t let him see that he bothered me, though, so I keep on like it’s nothing.
“Oh, yeah? And what did she say?” I muse.
“She told me about the load of guns she saw on your compound. Said you were going to sell them to the cartel in exchange for drugs,” he says confidently.
I tip my head back and laugh, shoulders shaking.
“Dude, I’ll give you credit. That is one hell of a lie, but let’s be honest, my wife said nothing of the sort. You can make up anything you want, try to get me to snap, but you won’t get a reaction. Want to know why?”
“Why?” he grits out.
I lean forward, resting my arms on the table, and smile. “Because my wife is loyal. You could try to convince her to say something, but she wouldn’t.” I pause for dramatics. “That’s a lie. She would talk, but it wouldn’t be about anything important. She would be insulting the fuck out of you, calling you out about your inadequacies.” I look him up and down. “Let me guess, she called you out for having a small dick. She mentioned when shemet you before how you were all drunk on power to compensate for your small cock. I didn’t like her talking about your cock much, so I showed her what a real one tastes like.” I emphasize my comment with a wink.
“You mother—” he snarls, his hands slapping the table.
