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Despite being tucked tightly against me as well as me using my body to shield most of her face and frame from the strangers, she hasn’t stopped fucking shaking like a disintegrating windshield wiper on the highway.
I’m afraid that despite all the shit we literally just said to each other that she’s gonna fucking Mach 5 her ass out of here.
And the way Detective Northwood keeps eye fucking her?
Isn’t. Helping.
“Excuse me,” a smooth, deep, unexpected voice states, pulling my stare away from where my girlfriend is frantically scribbling on the edges of her gray yoga pants to his dark chocolate glare. “I’m looking for the individual in charge here.”
Nolan – who opted to stay standing in the doorway like a protective barrier between us and the destruction inside the shop – momentarily redirects his attention to the newcomer prior to kicking his chin at Northwood.
“You?” the male that has to easily be somewhere around six-foot-three – considering he’s got a couple inches on Nolan who only has one on me – questions in an even tone. “Are you the lead detective in this case?”
Northwood shoves his hands firmly into his pockets at the same time he proclaims, “I am.”
“I’m Victor Garcia,” our tanned skinned visitor announces on an extended open palm in the detective’s direction, “Mr. Nolan’s attorney.”
The reluctance the cop exhibits to shake his hand isn’t surprising. “Detective Northwood.”
“Mm.” As soon as their grips separate, he makes his request. “I would like to see the copy of the warrant you presented my client, please.”
“My pleasure.” He sucks his teeth, removes the piece of paper from his pocket, and presents it to the man who practically towers over him. “Don’t worry. This procedure is completely legal.”
“Interesting choice of words, Detective.” Garcia transfers the document into his possession. “And not ones that most people feel the need to say when it’s actually true.”
Northwood’s jaw cracks open in surprise over the comment while my boyfriend’s attorney begins to examine the information.
Why didn’t I know Nolan had an attorney?
Why does he have one?
Is he saved in his phone?
Is this an old favor he’s cashing in?
Has he gotten caught in shit before but kept it hidden from me and used this dude when it happened?
How often has that happened?
Uncomfortable by the NASCAR loop of thoughts now racing around my mind, I merely adjust my ass on the grass.
Do my best to keep a cold engine expression.
It isn’t the time for me to be upset about that shit.
Especially not when we’ve got cops raiding our place and a girlfriend who I swear to the car gods above is now drawing her escape route on my pant leg.
“Detective Northwood,” Garcia speaks up shortly after beginning his reading, “this warrant gives you the right to search Mr. Nolan’s home, business, and vehicle.” His change in tone warrants my attention once more. “Not my other clients.”
Are we his other clients?!
Did I miss that fucking text message?!
“The wording, Detective, specifies you have the right to search homes, businesses, and vehicles that are in Mr. Nolan’s name only.” In spite of how easy it would be to smugly smirk, Garcia refrains. “The apartment is in two of my clients’ names, not just Mr. Nolan’s, therefore you did not have the right to start and do not have the right to continue searching the premises as I do not believe my other client, Mr. Woods, consented to have his spaces forcefully explored.”
“I sure the fuck did not,” I swiftly clarify rather than wondering out loud how the man knows my name.
Huh.
