Page 17

My brows rose.

“Long story,” she muttered.

Lowering the lid of the cooler, I popped the top on the beer and started heading back towards her.

Once there, I took up the seat on the swing next to her, throwing my arm over the top of the seat and looking up at the sky.

“I’ve got time,” I added, placing the beer between my legs and staring at her.

She grimaced, then sighed.

“Well…” she cleared her throat. “It started when my best friend was raped.”

I blinked, surprised at the course this story had taken.

“Yeah?” I asked. “What happened?”

“I had a friend whose man left her, but only after he sexually assaulted her first.” She bit her lip. “She filed charges. The guy got off; his daddy had a lot of money and clout with a couple of judges,” she said. “And Angelica started to slowly go into a downward spiral. One second she was this upbeat girl who volunteered at animal shelters, and the next she was in a depression so deep that she barely got out of bed.”

My stomach sank.

“And she tried to commit suicide, but I got there in time to call an ambulance. They pumped her stomach, and then kept her on a psychiatric hold for forty-eight hours before releasing her again.” She took a deep breath. “And I took it upon myself to help her get out of her funk.”

“And how’d you do that?” I asked.

She smiled.

“I started to burn the guy’s cars. When he’d get a new one, I’d take Angel over there with me, and we’d light the car on fire again,” she grinned.

“And you got caught?” I guessed, taking a sip of my beer.

She shook her head.

“No,” she admitted. “We went out to celebrate one night after his car was torched for a second time, this time not by me, but I made a mistake.”

“What mistake?” I asked.

“I dropped my boyfriend/fiancé’s lunch off for him, and caught him fucking his partner in his patrol car,” she grimaced, her face a mask of embarrassment.

My mouth dropped open in surprise.

“That was you?” I asked.

She shrugged, and another boom of thunder sounded overhead.

I wanted to wrap both arms around her and tell her that I was sorry, that she didn’t deserve to be treated like that, but I knew those words wouldn’t help her.

Nothing would but time.

“So…by me going off the chain at the police station, there were about eight million cops as witnesses to my act, meaning I couldn’t deny anything.” She shook her head. “My brother did what he could, getting me house arrest and probation instead of jail time. Because fucking Danny pressed every charge he could.”

“This is Danny Salazar?” I guessed. “Naomi’s brother? The traffic cop that writes everyone tickets?”

She sighed, then nodded.

“One and the same.” She rolled her eyes to the roof, letting the back of her head rest against my arm.

I don’t think she realized she was doing it, but I sure did.