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“He’s right,” Jessie nods his head in agreement while he thinks shit through.
“How easy would it be for someone else to access the files?” I ask Mads.
“They’d only have to know his password.”
“It’s her,” I shake my head. “She’s digging into the club, talking to the girls, showing up at the strip joint. She was here earlier… made up some shit about Luke Robinson not pressing charges. It’s bullshit, Jess, and I don’t like it.”
“Whoa, relax.” VP stands up and places an arm on my shoulder.
“Roswell’s got control of his department. She’s new in town, probably wants to know how things work. Of course, she’s gonna be curious. She just needs to be introduced properly. I’ll swing by the station tomorrow and have a conversation,” he assures me.
“Nah, this one’s all mine. She made this personal when she arrested me.”
“You really think that’s a good idea?” Jess looks at me doubtfully, and Maddy shares the same concern, judging by the worried look on her face.
“Yeah, I got this,” I assure them both because tomorrow I’m walking into that station and telling Alex Monroe to back the hell off.
“Play nice, Squealer,” Jessie warns before pulling his girl back onto his lap.
Roswell thinks he’s smart, but I know what game he’s playing. The old man's landed me with so much administrative crap I barely have the time to stop for lunch. So, around noon, I take the time to quickly head out to grab something from the deli. I get a few hostile glances from the officers as I return and walk back through the station to my office, but that’s nothing new, these small-town folk take time to adapt. I’m confident each one of them had themselves lined up for my position, and I’m sure neither one of them expected to lose out to a woman.
My arms are weighed down with more files that Roswell instructed Lucille to pass on to me. I’m sure this is his version of punishment for questioning how he runs things, as well as his attempt at steering me away from the club.
Using my elbow, I push down the handle of my office door, step through and slam it behind me with my foot. The bagel I’m holding between my teeth actually drops to the floor when I see what's in front of me. Swiveling from side to side in my office chair, with a smug grin on his face, is Cody Squealer Harrison.
“Well, if it ain't the long arm of the law,” he chuckles as I march at him angrily.
“I don't know what you’re doing here, but you need to get the fuck out of my office.” I slam the files on the corner of my desk and give him space to move.
Squealer stretches his palms out on the surface, pushing himself and my chair back just enough to create a small space between him and the desk.
I refuse to be intimidated by him. Who does this asshole think he is letting himself in here? I round my desk, filling the space he left, then cross my arms under my chest and stand confidently in front of him.
Squealer moves way faster than I predicted, suddenly on his feet, with his huge arm darting out and his hand crushing my wrist in his grip. I yelp in pain when he forces it behind my back. And before I have a chance to protest, my other one joins it. A sudden lightness in my utility belt and the sound of clinking of metal confirms I’ve just been restrained by my own cuffs.
“Come on, Deputy, you must have seen that one coming.” He looks down his nose at me before pushing his hand on my shoulder and making sure my ass lands hard onto the surface of my desk.
His eyes remain pinned to mine as his hips press into my knees, forcing them apart so he can stand between them.
Fucking jerk.
Worse than all that’s going on is the fact that my pussy is letting me down and reacting to it.
“Listen, sweetheart. My club and this department have been getting on real good for a lot of years. We're a good partnership. It works for you guys.” He’s so close that his nose slides over my cheek. “It works for the town, and more importantly, it works for us.” His other palm soothes gently up my spine, and I feel myself melting into his touch before it turns fierce as he snatches a rough hold on the base of my ponytail. “So I'm gonna ask you real politely, to keep this pretty little nose…” a finger from his spare hand flicks the tip of my nose “…out of our business. You think you can do that for me, princess?” His whisper touches my skin, and I feel my breath hold.
I’m too busy focusing on not grinding myself against his solid hips to come up with something smart to say back.
“And if I don't?” I question, purposely looking up at him and searching his eyes while I wait for a response.
“Well, then you're gonna see a whole ugly side of me that you ain't gonna like very much,” he warns me with a snigger.
“Considering I don't like you anyway, maybe I should take my chances.” I may be at a disadvantage here, but I won’t go down without a fight.
“You know…” he pauses to take a long, drawn-out glance between our bodies. “The thought of getting ugly with you is appealing; maybe you should.” When his eyes come back to me, they’re daring, the same way they were the night I fucked him in my motel room.
“You don't scare me,” I whisper the words like I’m telling him a secret.
“Then why’s your body trembling?” he rasps back at me with a satisfied smile. “Maybe it’s from recalling how good it felt having my cock fill it?” His free hand rests flat on my desk. Why do I want it to touch me so badly? “Perhaps you need reminding.” The bastard must be a fucking mind reader because he chooses that exact moment to grind his hips against my pelvis, and I have to dig my nails into my own palms to stop myself from responding.
