Page 21 of Mercy & Malice

Just because I don’t want to be around Brooke doesn’t mean I’ll let anyone hurt her. But I also don’t want to answer her questions either.

“Why were you there, Micah?”

I keep my mouth closed.

After a minute of silence, she asks, “Did you want to talk?”

“No.”

“Then why were you at Sweet Fleur?” She only waits five seconds before she goes on. “I know you don’t eat ice cream. And you weren’t just happening by. There’s no reason we can’t just have a conversation right now.”

In the middle of her jabbering on, I notice a police cruiser speeding up behind me, then its lights are switched on immediately.

Her rant ceases abruptly before she utters, “It’s probably my dad. He pulled me over the other night.”

“Figured it was him.” It’s not like I have any other reason to be pulled over.

And sure enough, Brent Guidry is approaching the driver’s side while another goes to the passenger side.

“Davenport is with him.”

Here the fuck we go. I’ve already refrained from killing one bastard tonight, I don’t think I’ll be able to do it a second time if this motherfucker provokes me.

Brooke rolls down her window when Officer Davenport taps his flashlight against the glass. I go ahead and do the same.

Davenport is the first to speak. “Where are you two coming from?”

“Work,” Brooke replies.

“Sweet Fleur Creamery?” her father asks, like the dick he is.

She hesitates before she answers, “Yes.”

“That’s funny because we were just there. A call came in earlier from that location and now there’re two cars in the parking lot with slashed tires and a bloodied person who claims he tripped and busted his face on the pavement.”

“Sounds like he’s having a tough day,” I state.

Davenport asks, “You two don’t know anything about his injuries?”

I can only entertain these fuckers for so long. “No. What was the reason for pulling me over?”

Guidry replies, “You ran a stop sign back there.”

He’s lying. “Then write the ticket.”

His frustration is evident, but since his reasoning is bullshit, the bogus citation will only give me documentation to show his harassment.

“Don’t get smart with me, boy. I could haul you in if I wanted to. But we know those fancy lawyers would have you out before the ink dries.” He leans in, his eyes on Brooke. “I’ll wait until I have enough that you won’t ever see the light of day.”

It takes everything in me to refrain from wrapping my hand around his throat and draining the life out of him. The fact that he wants to provoke me is the only thing holding me back.

“Let’s go,” Davenport tells him, already walking away.

He keeps what I assume is supposed to be an intimidating stare on Brooke. I slowly shift forward, blocking his view of her. His sneer is more satisfying than his saunter back to his vehicle.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“It’s fine.” And it is. I’d rather her be with me when she’s forced to face that asshat than on her own.