Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 117443 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117443 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
"I want to know what the fuck you were thinking. Who brought you here? You can’t just leave the bar with any random person," Shooter said through his teeth.
Hayley blinked at him then looked at the cop. Finding no reprieve, she looked back at Shooter. "No one brought me back. I took a cab. I only just got here."
Chris rocked back on his heels. "A cab."
She reached into her pocket and fished out the receipt. She handed it out to the cop. She really didn't need to justify herself to anyone. Especially not to Chris Sullivan, but if it made him leave faster, then she would.
The cop glanced at the receipt, set it down on the dresser and gestured for Sullivan to leave the room. "It's fine. She's fine. She took a cab."
The cop steered Shooter out the door and followed him. She stood in the doorway gaping at the four of them.
"You did the smart thing, Hayley," the cop said in what was clearly his cop voice. "Don't walk home alone. And don't accept rides from anyone in the bar. You don’t know who’s safe to go home with."
"I-" Hayley began but she was cut off by a familiar maniacal giggling. She looked down at the ratty carpet and sighed.
"Who's that?" Shooter demanded.
"I don't know," she replied.
"What the fuck is he doing standing in the walkway?" Shooter asked loudly enough for the Giggler to hear. The giggling abruptly stopped. "Slick, who is that?"
"I don't know!" she snapped, losing patience. "Just an asshole."
"An asshole," Shooter repeated, eyeing the guy. "What did he do?"
"Nothing."
"Fuck me,” he growled “Hayley," he said, his tone full of warning.
"Nothing!" she repeated. "He didn't do anything. He doesn't do anything. He just...."
"What?"
"Knocks on the door."
"Knocks on the door."
She sighed. "Late at night. When I'm trying to sleep. I'm sure he thinks it's funny."
Shooter started toward the guy, but the cop put an arm out and got ahead of him. The guy started to retreat, but the cop flashed his badge. "Sir, step out into the walkway, please."
"Why?" the Giggler snarled. "I ain't done nothing."
"Step out into the hallway." The Giggler reluctantly stepped out. "Are you harassing this woman?"
"What? Fuck no! I'm not harassing no one!"
"You knock on her door?"
The Giggler shrugged. "Sheeit. Maybe once."
"Once?"
"Maybe twice. A man can ask, right? That's still allowed."
The cop pulled himself up to his full height. Even out of a uniform, he looked positively lethal in his black jeans and tight fitting black t-shirt. "Just so we're on the same page. You knocked on this woman's door. Twice. In the middle of the night. Propositioning her for sex."
"It's just a joke," the Giggler protested. "Like she said. I was just being..."
"Neighborly?" the cop suggested.
Shooter took a menacing step forward. As though he sensed he might lose control of the situation, the cop took the Giggler by the arm and gently steered him further back from his angry friend. "Sir. I'm going to need to see your identification."
The Giggler glared at the cop. "But I ain't done nothin'!"
"If that's true then it'll just take a second."
The Giggler reluctantly pulled out his wallet and handed the cop his I.D. The cop glanced down at it and slid his cell phone out of his jeans pocket.
"What- what are you doin'?" the Giggler asked.
The cop held up a single finger. He spoke quietly into the phone, relaying the Giggler's personal info. Then he looked up at the Giggler sharply.
"Sheeit," the giggler muttered.
*************************
Ten minutes later the Giggler was handcuffed by an on duty patrolman and pushed into the backseat. He was squalling nonstop about being railroaded and the patrolman patiently explained the statute of limitations on failing to appear in court on a meth charge. For the third time.
Chris was planted a few feet from the squad car, near his bike. Occasionally he glanced up to Slick's room. She'd bolted herself inside fairly early on but he could see the curtains twitch every so often.
"Doc," Chris called quietly, and when Caleb turned to look, Chris jerked his chin at the squad car.
Doc sighed. It was obvious he was over this shit, but he spoke quietly to the uniformed officer then slid into the front seat of the squad car and began typing quickly on the keyboard of the cruiser's on board computer.
A few minutes later, he hauled himself out of the car, waved the officer away and sidled up to Chris, Tex, and Hawk. "She's a junkie. Busted for prostitution more than once."
"Mother fuck me," Chris growled.
Doc grinned. "Kidding," he said good-naturedly, ignoring the look from Chris that said certain death was imminent. "Hayley Crystal Turner, Hayley Turner, Crystal Turner... no such person has a criminal record within the state of South Dakota. Of course I could be more thorough with a driver's license...."
Chris had already told Doc that Slick hadn't produced one for Maria. Doc was more concerned with taking down rapists, arsonists, and murderers and had little to no interest in barmaids.