Page 95 of Cuffed (Everyday Heroes 1)
“Because you’d rather be with Officer Sexy.”
“No.” Yes. What the hell is wrong with me? “I’ll dance in a bit.”
“Ha.” She scoffs. “You’re such a liar.”
She’s right.
Grant Malone seems to be the only one I’ll allow to upend my world.
First to save me.
And now to show me what it’s like to feel.
“What the hell, dude?”
Nate is barely containing the snicker, his face turning beet red as I stare at the blow-up doll positioned precariously at my desk. Someone—probably one of my brothers—put the thing in a skimpy female cop Halloween costume and used a Sharpie to highlight some of its better features.
“Grady and Grayson, I presume?”
“How could you tell?” He laughs as I finally see their self-portraits horribly t
attooed above each one of her boobs.
All I can do is shake my head and take a seat at Ambrose’s desk directly across from it . . . her? While I more than admire my brothers’ creativity and attempt to make me relax after the long-ass exam, I’m already thinking of ways to get them back.
“Don’t worry,” Nate says. “All the guys already tapped ‘dat for ya.” He picks her up, and when he turns her around, there are signatures from all of the guys in the squad on her ass.
“Cute. Very cute. Thanks, guys,” I say as everyone around us starts busting up laughing.
Fucking assholes.
“So . . . how do you feel?” Nate asks as if he isn’t currently placing a blow-up doll back in my chair so that her feet are propped on the desk. No matter how hard he tries, her legs keep spreading open. Finally, he gives up and just pushes her out of the chair.
“I see how you treat suspects.” I almost don’t get the words out around my laughter.
“That’s only if they’re behaving.” We both look down to where she’s face down, spread eagle on the floor. “So tell me how it went.”
“Good. It was pretty straightforward. None of the questions gave me trouble.”
“Like I figured. Is the asshole still in there?” Nate lifts his chin toward the conference room where Stetson and I sat on opposite ends of the table to take our tests.
“Yeah, he—”
“Ah, boys, that test was fucking cake,” Stetson says before emitting a whoop to his group of cronies—all of them newer beat cops not schooled in his knife-in-the-back-I’m-a-total-asshole ways yet—as he exits the conference room.
Nate makes the jacking-off motion and rolls his eyes at the sound of Stetson’s voice. “May be cake,” he mutters, “but Grant’s gonna be the one eating it while you tank at the interviews.”
“Thanks for the vote of support.”
“I have your back,” he says. It’s his mischievous smile that worries me more than anything.
“I know you do, and I appreciate whatever it is that sick, twisted mind of yours is conjuring as a payback, but don’t. I want this on my terms and because I earned it.”
“Of course you do, but he’s playing dirty. You know he’s going to throw everything but the goddamn sink in because—”
I put my hand up to stop him. Not here. Not in the precinct where anyone can hear. The last thing I need is for it to become daily gossip that runs rampant in the squad room. “My record is clean, unlike his. Even if we both pass the test and do decent in the interviews, I’ll beat him because I’ve kept my nose clean.” It’s the truth. Let’s just hope the powers that be think that, too.
“’Kay. But if you change your mind, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”
