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Chapter One
Lucas
Straightening my posture in the Shelby County Sheriff's Office cruiser, I watch vigilantly as the car veers unsteadily into the left lane, only to jerk back into the right. The town of Shelby shares its name with the county, a quiet hamlet nestled in the foothills. Despite its tranquil facade, it's not immune to crime, and it's my job to stop it. Or in this case, find out if the driver is impaired in some way.
I hit the lights and switch on the siren, guiding the vehicle onto the road, my gaze locked on the car ahead, which has seen better days. It swerves again when I slide in behind it before slowing and pulling off the road near Jace Sanders’ driveway.
Calling in the stop, I exit the cruiser and head for the driver’s side, motioning for the driver to roll the window down as I approach.
I've known Jace since we were kids, and he won’t mind if I use his driveway to get a drunk off the street. We were inseparable back in high school, but life took us on separate paths when we chose to serve our country in different military branches after graduation. Jace joined the Army, and I signed up for the Marines. I often chafe his ass about how he joined the Army because he couldn’t hack the Marines, and Jace retaliates by saying I’m all brawn and no brains since I joined the "Jarheads." Our exchanges are always light-hearted and a testament to our camaraderie.
I catch a glimpse of blonde hair as the driver looks in the rear-view mirror before she rolls down the window and places her hands on the steering wheel.
The sunlight bounces off the metalwork as I peer into the car. Enormous blue eyes framed with long lashes meet mine, and my steps falter. Jesus, she’s gorgeous. Heart-shaped face, high cheekbones, full pink lips. She blinks up at me innocently, but the effect those vibrant eyes have on my body is anything but, and I suddenly find myself fighting a hard-on.
What the fuck?
I clear my throat. “Evening, ma’am. Do you know why I pulled you over?” I ask, starting with the usual questions. I force myself to follow procedure as I stare into those blue eyes rimmed in red and filled with tears. Is it because I’ve pulled her over, or is she in distress?
Her voice is barely above a whisper when she speaks, causing me to lean in closer. “I-I guess it’s because I swerved back there. I’m sorry, officer. I’m exhausted. I’ve been driving for twelve hours straight.”
Her husky voice sends an electric jolt through my system. It's like a live wire sparking across my nerve endings, igniting something primal deep inside me. Something about this woman, with her tear-filled eyes and exhausted vulnerability, calls to me on an instinctual level.
What is she running from?
The answer suddenly seems incredibly important, causing me to throw procedure out the window. “What’s going on, ma’am?”
“Nothing, nothing,” she says quickly, her eyes leaving mine to stare sightlessly through the windshield. “I just… I needed to get away.”
Something new blossoms in my chest, something unexpected and primal. A need to protect this vulnerable doe with eyes I could happily drown in.
I clear my throat again, trying to regain control of my thoughts and my body, and stare down at her sternly. “Ma’am, I need to see your driving license and insurance.”
“Oh, of course.”
Her plump lips make a perfect “O” as she speaks, and images of that perfect mouth wrapped around my cock assault me. Christ Almighty, what the fuck is wrong with me?
She winces as she reaches into the glove-box, favoring her right arm as she pulls out her papers. The sleeve of her sweater rises slightly, revealing bruises around her left wrist. She quickly tugs it down and hands me the papers, her cheeks blooming with color. My eyes narrow as she looks at me fully for the first time, and I see the small cut above her eyebrow and the fading bruise along her jaw.
My blood boils. Someone has hurt her. Who is it? A boyfriend? Husband? Whoever the fucker is needs his ass handed to him for putting his hands on this goddess.
“Stay in the car while I check this, please, ma’am,” I say, waiting for her jerky nod before returning to the cruiser.
I quickly run the out-of-state plates. The registration is a match for one Amalie Vasti. The vehicle is a recent purchase, but there’s no information about where she’s from. No warrants or criminal history. No background history.
Something is very wrong here. I shake my head. Amalie Vasti is none of my business, and her troubles certainly shouldn’t concern me. Involving myself in people’s personal matters isn’t part of my job, no matter how drawn to her I am.
Amalie is sitting where I left her, staring blankly out the windshield.
“Everything checks out. I’m letting you off with a warning, but you need to get off the road, Miss Vasti. Driving when you’re exhausted is as deadly as driving while intoxicated,” I say, handing her back the papers.
She reaches out instinctively to take them from me, hissing with pain. Color leeches from her face. “Thank you. You’re right. I’ll find somewhere to stop and rest.”
“Who hurt you?” I hear myself ask against my better judgment.
“I… No one. I fell.” She shakes her head and forces out a laugh. “I swear I can trip over fresh air.”
Fell, my ass. I’ve seen enough domestic abuse cases to recognize the signs. The nervousness. The haunted look. Yeah, she’s running from someone, and at that moment, all the reasons I shouldn’t get involved fly out the window.
