Jacked (Trent Brothers #1)(46)

Her mouth was slightly agape for a second before crashing back into a hard line. “But you’re really just a police officer, right?”

I’d hoped at least that much was obvious.

Those sexy blue eyes narrowed with unanswered disappointment. “Is that why half of the restaurant was staring at you?”

I nodded, rubbing my hand over my head, fighting back the animosity at being an unwanted center of attention. “Yeah, I suppose.”

“Was that so hard to admit?” She shook her head. “Why didn’t you just tell me? We could have avoided—”

“It’s…” Christ, what do I say? I peeled my eyes away from her obvious frustration, as if the windshield or the roof of her tiny red brick salt-box house were going to give me a brilliant answer. “It’s embarrassing. I hate it. It’s turned me into some sort of f*cking novelty.” I glanced over at her, trying to read her, hoping she was getting what I was saying. “It takes away from what could be real… genuine.”

I watched her lips mash together, frowning at me; not the reaction I was hoping for. She took a few moments to mull it over, and then, as clear as a bell, I saw it dawn on her. “You think people only want the TV persona now, don’t you?”

Bingo. Smart and beautiful. I drew in a deep breath, praying that she’d understand. “It’s not who I am. And now some of the wives of our unit members are getting harassed because of it. The cameras, the unwanted attention… I just… I just don’t want to bring that on you.”

She sat there in silence while each beat of my heart counted her time processing all of it. Something inside me needed her to know just exactly what she was getting herself into if she allows me to take this further. We hadn’t even touched upon my perversions or any of my other issues and already I was shoving her off.

Erin turned in her seat, surprising me. I could see the hurt in her eyes and the unspoken accusations of me being a complete jackass. “How do I know if you don’t even give it a chance, because an hour ago, I thought that’s what we were doing with getting to know each other. Wasn’t it?”

She stumped me with that one. Did I want to get tangled up in another woman after the last one gutted me so easily? Would she be understanding and strong enough to keep me from falling backwards into my old, numbing habits?

“Guess I was wrong,” she muttered. I watched her gather her purse and backpack, knowing she was pissed. “Doesn’t matter. I suppose that other cop back there at the diner said it for you. And the little waitress you’re sleeping with. You apparently date a lot and I’m really not in the mood to get played, so I guess this is goodbye. Have a nice life, Detective.”

She jumped out of my truck so damn fast, I barely got the word, “Wait” out.

Without turning, she waved me off, dismissing me just like she had on the night that we had pulled her over.

Internal instinct was screaming at me, telling me to move my ass and go after her again, but my f*cking legs and wounded pride refused to obey. I punched the steering wheel with the flat of my good palm as the frustration got the better of me. By the time I fully resolved that I should, in fact, go after her, it was too late. She’d already gotten through her front door and closed it, clearly shutting me out.

I sat there for a moment rubbing my scalp, thinking of ways to fix this clusterf*ck of my life, but I was at a loss. One thing was for certain: it was hard to describe how deep this woman I barely knew affected me. It was like I felt her already in me. In my blood. In my thoughts. As if some invisible force tethered me to her somehow, making me ache from the emptiness she’d left behind.

I stared at her door and pondered the mess I’d made, wrestling with the urge to go knock on the damn thing or even go so far as to tear it down, remove it off the f*cking hinges so nothing separated me from her. But I knew that none of my actions would be well-received.

I pressed the heel of my hand over my breastbone, hating that I allowed another woman get to me this way.

But it was too late. The injury I inflicted on her was clearly visible in the gloss of her eyes. Banging on her door now would only infuriate her more and make me seem out of control, and I just didn’t have it in me to fight. I put my truck in reverse and backed slowly out of her driveway. It was for the best, telling myself just to leave it alone, ’cause I sure as hell had no clue how to fix it.





GOD, I HOPE there isn’t a dead body in the trunk, was the first thought that passed through my mind when the red and blue lights started flashing in my rearview mirror.

Sarah had been chauffeuring me back and forth to work for the last couple of days, but by the end of our shift Thursday morning, my convenient ride had come to an end. Sarah had the next two nights off, leaving me without a way to get to work for my shift tonight.

Instead of sleeping after she’d dropped me off, I spent the last two hours studying while waiting for the notary office to open. My eyes, like the rest of my body, were tired and feeling blurry, but there was no mistaking the distinct siren and flashing lights ordering me to pull over.

“No. Not again,” I whined out loud, squeezing the steering wheel. I knew better. Adam had warned me and yet here I was, driving without a plate on.

I pulled over to the first available spot of curb.

The police car pulled up right behind me.

Shit. It’s not like I was doing ninety down the road.