Asking for Trouble (Line of Duty #4)(25)

Brent answered sounding amused. “We’re going to need a bigger boat.”

Even in her annoyed state, she couldn’t help but feel a hint of relief that he hadn’t ignored her call after their argument the night before. “What are you talking about?”

“Your personal ringtone is the Jaws theme song.”

Hayden smirked as if he could see her. “Can’t see how that makes any sense. Jaws had a sequel. We won’t.”

“Oh, yeah? Then why are you calling?”

Shit. Just say it. “Try to keep the gloating to a minimum, but I need your…help.”

“What’s wrong?”

She was momentarily thrown off by how instantly and genuinely concerned he sounded. Why couldn’t he just gloat and make this easier for her? “Oh, not much. I’m broken down in a bus on the West Side Highway. With a bunch of kids who are about to go Lord of the Flies on my ass.”

“That’s you?” He cursed under his breath and she could hear the sound of tires squealing in the background. “They already sent over a car. They’re having to reroute traffic. You’re causing major delays, duchess.”

“Not helping.”

“I’m on my way,” he assured her, adding, “Don’t go anywhere.”

“Couldn’t resist, could you?”

…

Lights flashing on the top of his Emergency Service truck, Brent pulled to a stop in front of the stationary yellow school bus, wondering not for the first time what the hell Hayden was doing on a bus with schoolkids. He radioed dispatch to alert them that he’d arrived on the scene, then climbed out of the vehicle, immediately searching through the windshield for Hayden. He’d been hungry for a glimpse of her since last night, but he’d never imagined it would be under such odd circumstances. A motorist passed the bus, blaring his horn, and Brent sent him a dark look.

That pretty much summed up his mood since leaving her bed the previous night.

She’d thrown him for a goddamn loop, after which he’d been treated to a nice little put-down by her mother on the way out. For a brief second, he’d actually felt sorry for Hayden. Mommy Dearest appeared to be about as maternal as a cobra. Not that he expected Mom to embrace him and invite him to her next women’s luncheon. After all, he’d just walked out of Hayden’s town house, hair all f*cked-up, shirt untucked, with a look on his face that clearly said, Pardon my appearance, I just plowed your daughter. She’d looked him over and sniffed her judgment. Well, I guess we’re all entitled to a few mistakes now and again, she’d said, clearly pegging him as said mistake.

After that little heartwarming confrontation, one thing had been abundantly clear. He’d made the right decision in leaving. Prior to that, he’d felt slightly conflicted about walking out, thinking maybe he’d overreacted. Her actions hadn’t seemed malicious or intentionally baiting. Then he’d been reminded by her mother why they’d wisely agreed to limit their physical relationship to one night. He didn’t need these people making him feel like gum on the bottom of their polished shoes. And she clearly wanted nothing more to do with him now that she’d gotten her fill.

None of his rationalizations, however, did a thing to calm his constant, consuming craving for her. Her total abandonment, her screams of pleasure, drowned every other intelligent thought out until he only had the ability to think of next time. What he’d do to her, say to her, to get her wet. How many times he could make her come before finding his own release. Pointless thoughts, since she’d made it clear it was a one-time thing. Thoughts that wouldn’t give him a moment’s peace, all the same.

The bus door opened and Hayden climbed out. Brent’s eyebrows shot up. He’d never seen Hayden in shorts and sneakers. Ever. With her hair pulled back in a ponytail, she looked so damn sweet and innocent, it brought him up short. Her white T-shirt read Clean Air Initiative 2013, her father’s company logo beneath. In an attempt to hide his reaction, he strode back to his ESU truck and pulled his emergency mechanic’s tools out from under the passenger-side seat. “You’re lucky I have these with me,” he called over the honking traffic. “I lent them to a buddy last week and he returned them this morning. They’d normally be at home.”

“Yes,” she replied, exasperation in her voice. “You have my undying gratitude, officer.”

Brent turned with a sarcastic rejoinder on his lips, but when he saw her up close the words died in his throat. She looked…exhausted, eyes puffy with dark smudges underneath. Her usual radiance dulled by pale skin and a tired expression. As if she’d been crying. Why had she been crying? Please God, not because of him or what they’d done. Or how he abandoned her when she’d possibly wanted him again. He wanted to question her. Demand answers. But like an idiot, he’d agreed not to discuss their night together ever again. Where the hell did that leave him?

When she cleared her throat uncomfortably, Brent realized he’d been staring at her without speaking. Her expression was decidedly closed off, telling him that he wouldn’t be appeasing his curiosity any time soon. With a case of reluctance, he skirted past her toward the bus. “All right, let’s see what’s—” Brent lifted the hood and steam poured out. “Well, that’s promising.”

Hayden buried her face in her hands with a groan. “Take me to the closest bar?”