Jacked (Trent Brothers #1)(47)

Adrenaline was coursing thick through my bloodstream and I felt lightheaded. I knew I should stay calm, after all it was just a traffic stop, but getting caught made it worse. With my luck right now, he’d make me open the trunk only to find that someone did shove a dead body in there.

Why did a traffic citation feel like the onset of being hauled off to prison? On the bright side, at least six other steal-plated trucks didn’t join in on the fun this time.

I rolled my window down.

“License and registration,” the officer ordered. I was slightly surprised, considering this policeman had quite a paunch going on.

As soon as I looked up at him, noting the unsightly brown birthmark on his cheek and moustache that reminded me of a walrus’s tusks, it registered that this was someone I’d already crossed paths with.

“Yes, sir,” I responded, being as compliant as possible.

“Well, well, look who it is,” he drawled. There was no denying that he recognized me from the diner where I had had breakfast with Adam. Just being this close to him creeped me out. It took him a few seconds to drift his beady eyes from my face to my boobs.

In my haste to avoid his unwanted leering, I grabbed the bottom of my purse, the contents of which immediately rained down all over my lap.

My wallet made a thud when it hit the floor. I bent to reach it and cracked my forehead on the steering wheel.

And that was it. The final straw. Haul me off to prison because I’m about to lose my precious hold on sanity.

“Is there a problem?” the impatient Officer Castoll groaned.

I rolled my planted face over the steering wheel to look at him.

The intimidating officer leaned closer to my window. “Have you been drinking, Miss?”

His partner came around to the other side of my car. I could see out of the corner of my eye that his hand was resting on his weapon.

That snapped me to attention. “No, officer. Never.” And certainly not in hospital scrubs at nine in the morning. I left out the part, and you’re going to add points to my driving record, which means that I will mostly likely have my license suspended and I will not have a way to get back and forth to the hospital job that I’m going to lose once the videos hit.

After the night I just had discussing removing Uncle Cal from life support and my nervous babble to the creepy cop, I couldn’t stop the shakes. I’d finally succumbed to the stress.

My car door opened. “Step out of the car, please.”

What? “Why?” I didn’t care for the fact that his hand was hovering over his gun now.

“I said step out of the car, Miss.”

I groaned and dropped my empty leather purse onto the passenger seat while the rest of my things rolled under my seat.

Officer Asshole walked me to the front of my car. “Hands on the hood.”

“Wait. What?”

“Do not question me. Hands on the hood—now.”

Jesus, what have I done? Is there a dead body in the trunk of my car? I was only kidding, although whenever I saw that in a movie, I never turned out so well for the driver.

I caught Officer Asshole snickering to his partner. Bet it got his little wiener stiff posing me out on my hood like this while his partner, Officer Very Skinny and Ugly, got his eyeful.

My wallet landed on the hood. What the hell was it with cops dropping shit on my brand new car? I winced, hoping the paint wouldn’t get scratched by their macho * routine.

“That your wallet?”

No, it’s the missing booster rocket from the space shuttle.

I figured sarcasm wouldn’t go over very well right now so I answered, “Yes.” I desperately wanted to attend to the hair that was hanging in my eyes but I dared not let go of my bent position.

I saw the black truck coming down the road, stirring new nervousness through me. It slowed down as it got near the cop car; I didn’t have to look to know exactly who was driving.

I freed my license and handed it to the round cop.

He scrutinized the little plastic card. “Name?”

“Erin. Erin Novak,” I said, purposely looking away from the black truck. No sense making eye contact with him while being embarrassed once again.

To my surprise, the truck picked up speed. Just when I thought he’d drive off, he made a tire-screeching U-turn at the end of the block and parked directly across the street.

My breath caught when he slipped out of his truck, all clad in black just the way he was the day I met him. “ATTF” was written in bright lettering across the pocket on his chest, confirming he was a force to be reckoned with.

I took in his dark, short hair, which was messed perfectly, the shadow of a beard on his face, and the angered glint in his eye as he approached.

Shit, he’s pissed.

The other uniformed officer seemed like he knew Adam, too, and was none too happy to see him, either. Both of them looked nervous.

“Not your jurisdiction anymore, Trent,” Officer Asshole said, puffing out his chest.

I felt Adam’s dark eyes burrowing holes into mine. He didn’t even acknowledge the two cops. Instead, he came straight over to me, took my hand in his, and tugged me a few feet away. “You okay?”

I gave him a one-shoulder shrug as I flashed my eyes over at the looming Officer Castoll. “I don’t think so.”

Adam drew in a leveling breath. I rubbed the spot on my forehead where the pain was starting to throb. “I was trying to get to the notary to get a new plate and then this happened.”