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“Is there a problem?” Foster asked carefully, beginning to wonder if this was just some neighbor protecting his property line or something. Maybe he’d parked his car too high on the curb and hit a flower bed. Texans could be touchy about that shit.
“Yes, there is,” he said, accent thick and tone terse. “Mind telling me why you’re lurking in the dark watching my daughter? And don’t try anything stupid. I’ve already called the police.”
Oh, shit. Pieces fell together in a quick jumble. The dad. Foster closed his eyes for a moment. Okay, so not a carjacker or criminal. At least he wouldn’t get shot tonight. Well, probably not. “I’m so very sorry, Dr. Medina. I’m no threat. I’m a friend of Cela’s.”
His eyes narrowed. “A friend who sneaks around in the middle of the night spying on her like some cockroach?”
Rapid-fire muttering in Spanish punctuated the statement. Foster wasn’t one hundred percent fluent, but he picked up a few choice names including pervert and bastard.
Damn, how was he going to explain this? The truth wasn’t exactly good news. “My name is Ian Foster. I’m a friend of Cela’s from Dallas. A neighbor.”
He tilted the gun and gave Foster the hairy eyeball.
“And an ex-boyfriend,” he said finally, realizing the man wasn’t going to take any bullshit answer.
More Spanish and a look of utter distaste from Cela’s father. “Shut up and stay where you are.”
Sirens cut through the night, and Foster tilted his head back. Fan-fucking-tastic. So much for being covert. For the first time he wished he had a safe word—anything that would get him out of this mess.
A few minutes later, he found himself face-to-face with a cop who was not in the mood for niceties. Cela’s father had stepped aside and put the gun down, but he clearly was going to stick around for the show. Foster glanced over at Cela’s house, wondering how long it’d be before she saw the flashing lights and peeked out her window. Nothing like a heaping dose of humiliation served up hot. And he’d suffer it in front of her family no less. Terrific.
“Mr. Foster, do you mind explaining to me why this car is registered to someone else?” the cop asked, gripping the car’s registration in his hand and holding it up for Foster to see.
“Pike’s my roommate. He let me borrow the car.”
“Borrow?” the cop frowned like he wasn’t familiar with such a progressive idea. “Turn around, Mr. Foster.”
“For what?”
The cop pulled out his handcuffs and gave Foster the don’t-mess-with-me face. Fucking hell. Foster turned around, handcuffs going over his wrists. Click, click. “I’m just going to put these on until we get this sorted out.”
That’s when the door opened across the street. Cela peered out, the red and blue lights flashing over the shorts and T-shirt she’d changed into. Her head turned toward her father, who was leaning against a tree with arms crossed and a fierce expression. He noticed his daughter and waved a dismissing hand. “Go inside, Marcela.”
“What’s going on?” she called out.
“I said go inside,” he barked back.
Foster’s eyebrow lifted. He had an idea of how that tone would go over. He could almost hear Cela gritting her teeth. As expected, she stalked across her yard and toward her father. Heh.
“What are you smirking about?” the cop snapped.
Foster’s gaze slid back to the cop. “Nothing at all, officer.”
But he had no doubt the cop heard the heavy sarcasm in Foster’s voice. Foster was about done putting up with this crap. There was no avoiding Cela knowing now, so he had no reason to continue playing nice.
“I suggest you wipe that look off your face then,” the cop said.
“Well, I suggest that you take me out of these handcuffs. You haven’t placed me under arrest. I haven’t threatened you. And I was parked on a public street, not bothering anyone when a gun was pointed at my head. If anything, I’m the victim here. So you can either unlock these or I can make a call to my lawyer.”
“Foster?”
Cela had made her way across the street and was now staring at him, mouth agape.
He gave her a sheepish smile. “Hi.”
She blinked, like she hadn’t understood his greeting, then seemed to snap back into place. Her gaze slid to the handcuffs then back to him and the cop. “What the hell is going on?”
“Your father found this man watching your house,” the cop explained in that I’ll-take-care-of-this-little-lady tone. “But don’t worry, we have it under control. Your father kept him contained until I got here.”
