Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 98755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
My mouth drops open. “You can’t say that to me. Aren’t you supposed to uphold the law?”
He shoves me forward, encouraging me to walk again. “I thought you said my badge is fake.”
I try to eye him, to really get a good look at him, but through the dark and with the hat shadowing half his face, I can’t see very clearly. That and my glasses are slightly wet from the rain.
“Better be careful with these handcuffs; I might be into them,” I tease, trying to make him uncomfortable so he lets go. Aren’t they under some sort of fucked-up code?
“And I’m into gags. Should we try the two together, Shortcake?” he offers.
Heat rushes through me because, although I can’t see his face clearly, I like the tight muscles beneath his damp shirt that’s stuck to his upper body. He looks as tall as my cousins, around six foot two, and I know he could throw me around like a fucking rag doll.
Jesus, has it been that long for you that you’re actually fantasizing about a cop because he cuffed you?
“Got no response to that one, huh?” he asks as we approach the street, where I see a sleek black car. They might not be in uniform or drive a police car, but Charlotte knew they were cops when they were flashing around those ego-ass badges when we were stumbling out of the nightclub trying to ask people questions.
I go to speak, but our attention is taken by the police officer walking ahead of us. He’s talking into a radio, describing how I look.
“Hope Ivanov is her name.” My head swings around to look at Mr. Authority at the mention of my name. How the fuck does this guy know who I am?
But I still can’t see him clearly.
I tug on my restraints again, but it’s useless with his tight grip as he leads me to the car.
My father is going to be pissed.
He hates the police.
I may be twenty-two, but make no mistake, I’m still scared of my father when he gets angry. He may never hurt me, but that man is terrifying when someone hurts his family or even looks at him wrong.
He’s tried all his life to shelter me from his murderous tendencies; however, there have been a few times he’s accidentally lost control. Not to mention how many times my auntie, Anya Ivanov, has unapologetically killed people in front of me and then argued with my mother, telling her it’s a good lesson for every woman to learn.
Ahhh. This isn’t going to end well. They might actually ransack the entire police station just to get me out.
“Okay, I can pay you. Just remove the cuffs.”
This is going to get messy. If this guy knows who I am, he should know better than to bring me in.
“Are you trying to bribe a police officer?” the one holding me asks.
“No,” I say while nodding my head yes.
“No?” he repeats.
“No,” I reply flatly. What the fuck? How did that not work?
“Didn’t think so, Shortcake.” He grins, then says to the other officer, “Let’s take her into holding.” Officer number one opens the back door so Mr. Authority can not-so-gently shove me into the back seat. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t create an immediate fire in my gut because I fucking like it.
Before the door is closed, I look up, furiously scowling at the man who shoved me in. He’s dressed in all black. He rests his hand on the roof of the car as he leans in, and his sleeve tugs up, exposing a few tattoos. Then I see his face as he pulls his hat off.
“Nice to see you again, Hope.” He winks, and I recognize that cocky smile as he leans over me to buckle my seat belt.
“You’re fucking kidding me.” I sigh and let my head hit the back of the seat.
Braxton Hero.
The very man I lost my virginity to when I was eighteen.
Fuck.
He looks good.
“I heard that,” he says just before he slams the door shut, locking me in the back of the cop car with my hands still cuffed behind my back.
Fuck, I’m in so much trouble.
CHAPTER 2
Braxton
I can’t fight the smirk on my lips as I walk over to my partner.
He doesn’t seem too impressed, though. He jerks his head in the direction of where she’s restrained in the car. “You know her?”
Lucas and I were forced into a partnership. I consider it a love-hate relationship, depending on what type of day he’s having. But he’s a good fucking detective and has my back.
“Who doesn’t know her family?” I ask, not at all appreciating his tone. It’s not a lie; we all know her family and how none of us can touch them. Under normal circumstances. Hope just made it far too easy this evening. She hadn’t even run a quarter of a mile before giving up and throwing herself to the ground in exhaustion like a sacrificial lamb, one I was happy to slaughter tonight.