Rock Chick Rescue (Rock Chick #2)(21)

Eddie turned his hand around, his fingers curled around mine and he tugged me forward.

“Where’s your car?” he asked.

“I caught a ride with JoJo,” I told him.

Immediately, he changed directions.

“Where are we going?” I pul ed at his hand, either to get mine out of his or to get him to stop, either one would work for me.

I didn’t succeed and Eddie kept walking.

“I have to go to the station and then I’m taking you home.”

Oh no, I couldn’t let him take me home.

“Eddie I can get a ride with—”

He jerked me to a halt and gave me a look that shut my mouth. Then he started walking again, pul ing me along behind him.

He walked me to a shiny, red, Dodge Ram. It even had those fancy lights on the top. He opened the passenger side door for me and I tried to get into the high seat graceful y considering my short skirt and slut shoes. I managed it, but just barely.

“Why don’t you take me home first?” I asked him when he got in the car.

“Because, I missed my opportunity to talk to you this afternoon. So, even though it’s nearly two o’clock in the f**king morning, I have you al to myself for the first time and you’re gonna answer a few questions.” I buckled my seat belt (safety first) and then crossed my arms on my chest. I didn’t have time to talk to Eddie (not to mention, I didn’t want to talk to Eddie). I needed sleep. I didn’t have a ful day off until Sunday, that was—

I was too tired to count them but it was too many days away not to sleep.

I tried to talk him out of it.

“I don’t understand why you’re so curious about me. I’m just a quiet, normal person. I know you don’t want me bringing a bad influence into Indy’s store but…” He’d started the truck while I was speaking. At my comment, he turned to me, forearm on the steering wheel.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with Indy. And, I hate to break this to you, but you’re anything but normal.” My head gave a little jerk and I glared at him. “Yes I am!

I’m your normal, average, everyday girl.” He shook his head.

“Your normal, average, everyday girl does not work in a strip club. She does not get bizarrely serenaded by her father in a bookstore. She does not transform into a new girl every time she does something to her hair or makeup.

And she does not guard every scrap of personal information about her life like it’s a State secret.”

“I do not guard every scrap of personal information!” I snapped.

“Tel me something personal then,” he returned.

I tried to find something interesting about myself. I was too tired and freaked out and anyway, there wasn’t much interesting about me. So I threw out the first thing that came to mind.

“My favorite color is green,” I told him.

He turned away from me, put the truck into gear and said, “Doesn’t count.”

“Why not?”

He pul ed out onto Colorado Boulevard.

“Your favorite color is not a piece of personal information.”

“Yes it is.”

“Okay, then, your favorite color is a boring piece of personal information that doesn’t tel me a thing about you.” I gave up and looked out the window. It seemed a good way to go.

We were silent al the way to the station.

When he parked, I jumped down from the truck, wishing my slut shoes resided in perdition. He came around and grabbed my hand again and we walked into the station.

I’d never been to a police station in my life. It was cleaner than I expected it to be, it didn’t look like NYPD Blue at al .

He walked me through the hal s and took me to a room with lockers. He opened one, obviously his, pul ed out a flannel shirt and handed it to me. “Put that on.” It was a nice thing to do. It wasn’t only chil y but I didn’t wear my Smithie’s uniform anywhere but at Smithie’s and his shirt would cover me up.

I put his shirt on and it smel ed like him. It was then I thought the shirt wasn’t a good idea. Smel ing Eddie on Eddie was disturbing enough. Smel ing Eddie on me was too much of a good thing.

I didn’t have a chance to object. He took my hand again and walked me into another room, this one big, mostly dark and ful of desks. There was one guy working: typing on a computer. He looked up when we walked in and his eyes took in Eddie’s bloody t-shirt and knuckles.

“Tough night?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Eddie replied, not inviting further discourse.

The guy’s eyes moved to me.

“Looks like you won.”

Eddie didn’t reply and walked me over to a couch and turned to me.

“Wait here. I’l be five minutes.” Then he was gone.

I sat on the couch and the guy was watching me.

“There was a bit of a bar brawl,” I explained.

“Yeah, I heard.”

“It started for a good reason.” I don’t know why, but I decided to defend Eddie.

“Eddie start it?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“You the reason?”

I bit my lip then said, “Yes.”

“That’s a good enough reason.”

He turned back to work and I took the opportunity to fish the fifty from my cle**age. It was hard won. I should probably give it to Eddie for the trouble I caused him but I needed it too much. I put it in my wal et and then waited.