Page 71 of Cuffed (Everyday Heroes 1)
“I sure did.”
“See? You can’t hide shit from me.”
“You’re a real detective. Maybe you should put in for a promotion,” I deflect.
“Nah, there’s only room for one of us to steal center stage at a time. I’ll leave it to you to put that fucker Stetson in his place.”
I glance at my watch. “C’mon. Fill your cup. Our shift’s about to start and there’s somewhere I want to stop before we clock in.”
“Sure thing.” He puts the creamer back in the refrigerator. “And you can fill me in on all the details on the way.”
“Humor me, will you?” I say to Nate as I pull the cruiser along the curb and put it in park.
His deep sigh fills the car. He doesn’t have to say a word to let me know he thinks I’m way over the line.
He’ll get over it.
The street is silent as I exit the car. The garage door is closed, and the driveway is empty. But there are new rocks painted in the planters along the walkway to the house.
One looks like a flag. Another is black and white like a cow’s spots. One has a K in bright blue on it.
But there is no watermelon. Nothing red with black seeds.
No cry for help disguised as secret spy code.
I’m there for no more than a minute before I turn on my heel and head back to the cruiser.
“Everything okay?” Nate asks as I slide behind the wheel, his voice full of concern.
“Yep. Everything is okay.”
For now.
Slimy bastard.
I can still feel his hands on my shoulders and smell his obnoxious cologne. I can still see the snake oil behind the lunch he brought with him to Blue Skies to conveniently offer to share. I can still hear the implied threat that if I don’t acquiesce to the prick, then my loan might not be approved.
Or funded.
Or maybe if I dated a sturdy man of industry such as himself, the lenders would look favorably upon his stability and be more willing to bargain.
I’m well aware this is all total bullshit. He’s out of his mind if he thinks I don’t see that he’s most likely holding back my loan from approval to string me along. To try to extort a date from me before he tells me if I’ve been approved or not. I’ve provided the correct documentation—a business plan, financial statements, an audit of the company—and yet I’m still dependent on him.
Dependent but not desperate.
No date. No way.
I may be a gypsy in his eyes, but this gypsy is smarter than he gives me credit for.
And then, of course, his departure was followed up by a phone call from the owners. Their weekly questions about our latest sales figures that segued into why I don’t have the loan yet. That was followed by the casual mention—threat—that regardless of how hard I work
for them currently, if the sixty-day escrow falls through, they already have backup buyers in place just in case. Oh, and naturally, the backup buyers are offering a higher buying price, which I find to be total bullshit. But if I call their bluff and don’t play their game, too, do I risk losing out on my dream?
I slam around the training room, moving chairs back in place, resetting slideshows, wiping off the dry erase boards. Anything to calm my temper and rid the room of the slime Chris’s presence left behind.
Everything about me is itching to put my gear on and jump.
“You okay?” Leo asks from where he stands outside the doorway. More than aware of my mood and prepared for a running start should my temper flare.
