Twice as Hot (Tales of an Extraordinary Girl #2)(47)
Author: Gena Showalter

"Yeah. A girl never forgets her first arresting officer."

Sherridan snapped her fingers, anger flaring in her navy eyes. "So we’re about to have a face-to-face with K. Parton?"

"You know him, too?" Rome demanded.

"Well, Belle was driving my car, and I had to bail her out. Get ready to meet the antichrist, my friend.

This guy likes to treat innocent women like hardened criminals."

"You were arrested?" Rome turned the mirror so that he could have a better look at the man approaching. "For what?"

Rome had once done a background check on me, so he already had this info at his fingertips. Rehashing it did not equal fun. "I had an expired license. No big deal." Now he blinked over at me. "You’re kidding. There are violent felons out there, and he booked you for a damn license violation?"

"Yep. I was on my way to a job interview. Of course, I never made it so I didn’t get the job. And I would have nailed that interview, I just know it. I’ve always been good at those." I should be, anyway.

I’d sat through what seemed like thousands of them.

"Kill him," Sherridan commanded of Rome.

Officer Bastard, a.k.a. Officer Parton, advanced on the car with strong, sure strides. What were the chances I’d run into the devil twice in a lifetime?

Who knows? Maybe he’d changed. Maybe he’d –

He stopped in front of Rome’s window and I was given a full, unobstructed view of him. Oh, no. Little Partie Wartie hadn’t stopped loving himself, that much was obvious by the proud tilt of his chin and the superior gleam in his eyes as he lifted his sunglasses. Clearly, he still considered himself God in that dark blue uniform.

Funny, but just then he reminded me of Lexis.

Don’t get me wrong. I had nothing against cops in general. We worked in a similar field, so of course I respected what they did. But people who were so in love with their own power drove me batty.

I had the power to destroy families, armies. I mean, I could fry this man with a fireball. He’d scream and he’d suffer and he’d die. But while the thought morbidly pleased me, I wouldn’t act on it. I didn’t think myself better than him – well, than everyone  – because of what I could do.

That was the difference between us.

Rome opened the driver-side window and rested his elbow on the rim. "What’s the problem, Officer?

Was I speeding?"

Parton tapped a pen against the pad of paper he held. "License and registration." His gaze traveled over me, but it was clear he didn’t recognize me. Unlike last time, his lips did not curl in distaste.

At this rate, I was going to develop a complex. Was I that forgettable?

He looked Sherridan over next, paused to admire her for a bit, then studied the jacked-up steering wheel. He didn’t ask, to my surprise, but he had to wonder.

Rome gave him both with a nervous laugh. I knew that laugh was faked. Nothing made Rome nervous.

Look how he’d handled those shooters. Not even a moment of hesitation.

"You live in the area," Officer Parton said, looking over Rome’s information. "Where you headed?"

"What does that matter?" I found myself asking.

Rome pinched the bridge of his nose. "Sweetheart," he said through clenched teeth, "just because you have a headache doesn’t mean you should inflict your bad mood on the rest of us. Let the man do his job."

Parton wanted to slap Rome on the shoulder in a way-to-keep-your-woman-in-her-place gesture, I could tell. "You’d do best to listen to your husband, ma’am."

"He’s not my husband," I grumbled.

Rome stiffened.

Parton’s head tilted to the side as he considered me a second time. "Do I know you?"

"No," I lied. If only Rome had recovered his memory that quickly. "I’m sure I’d remember – "

"We’re actually in something of a rush," Rome interjected before I could finish with an upstanding law enforcer such as yourself. Really. "Doctor’s appointment. For her headache. So if you’re through with us…"

Parton slid his sunglasses back into place, and a dark brow arched over the top of them. I had the feeling he was still looking at me, trying to place me, not really listening to Rome. There was a cold brush of ickiness all the way to my soul.

I glanced down at myself. My T-shirt and jeans were still damp, my ni**les hard and peeking through my bra. I appeared every inch the aroused vagrant. Rome was no better (minus the aroused part, alas).

He had a few cuts on his face and bruises already forming on his hands, all of which would be healed by the end of the day. Grass stains and soot clung to his clothing.

"Officer?" Rome said.

Parton’s attention whipped to him. Oh, gag. He had been sizing me up. Maybe even perving on me. I was going to need a hose rammed down my throat to wash out the vomit.

His pen started tapping against his notepad again. "You guys hear or see anything unusual since leaving your house?"

"Why?" Rome asked, acting like any other morbidly curious person. "Like what?" Parton shrugged. "Gunshots? Yelling? Cars crashing together?"

"There was a shootout? In this neighborhood? Oh, man. What’s the world coming to? I mean, nowhere is safe nowadays. I wish I could help you, Detective, but I didn’t see anything."

"It’s officer."

Rome glanced at me. "Did you see anything, honey?"

"No."

"Me, either," Sherridan said, shifting in her seat.

Parton frowned and eyed our car. "How’d your car get so beat up in the back, the windshield shattered? Why is half your steering wheel missing?"

"Fender-bender," Rome said, glancing irritably at his wristwatch. I wasn’t sure if he was pretending now or if he had unintentionally unleashed a bit of his anger. "We were rammed from behind and the impact caused all kinds of damage. Cars aren’t as durable as they used to be."

"Do you have a case number?" he said easily, but he started writing in his notepad. Taking our names?

Making us suspects? Pretty soon, he’d probably be radioing for backup.

"Don’t remember it."

"That’s all right. Your name will be enough to find the report." I nearly groaned. Should I freeze him? Most likely he’d thaw and go on to live a long life – unfortunately.

Or would dousing him in ice bring too much attention to us? Were people watching us from inside their homes, peeking out through the windows?

Either way, I couldn’t allow him to detain us longer than he already had. We had a flight to catch. An agent to…save? No telling with Cody.

"Were you the one driving?" Parton continued. "Or was your girlfriend? I seem to recall cuffing her and taking her in for some sort of vehicular violation. Your name, though…We called you Foul Mouth James, or something like that."