The Hustle (Irreparable 4)

“Have you ever had an altercation with him?”

Peyton locks her eyes on me as her bottom lip begins to quiver. “About a month ago.” She focuses on a spot on the floor as she continues. “He walked me out to my car after work. I didn’t think much of it because we were leaving at the same time, but he tried to kiss me. I pushed him back, but he tried again, only forcefully. I slapped him. He called me a bitch and came after me again. I kicked him in the balls and got away.”

My teeth grind together as I inhale through my nose. She lied. I don’t know if my anger stems from her not being honest with me, or this creep putting his hands on her or how easily this fucking pervert was able to break into her place. It’s probably all of the above.

“Did he threaten you in any way?” The male officer, who’s been mostly quiet, asks.

“No, and he avoided me after that.”

“Did you report it to anyone?”

Her head shakes faintly. “No. I didn’t think he was dangerous. I honestly thought he was as humiliated as I was.”

“Okay, well with the information we have from Mr. Hunter’s investigator, and your statement, we have enough to make an arrest.”

“When?” I ask.

“Soon, but just so you’re aware, he’ll easily make bail. I’ll speak with the DA about securing a restraining order, but you should keep your guard up.”

“We will, thank you.”

As I guide Peyton down the hall, she stops and spins around. “Please, don’t be mad.”

I notice a few people watching. Without answering, I continue walking until I reach the fresh air outside the police station. Peyton’s right behind me, but I’m not ready to discuss how I feel. I’m not mad, I’m furious. Mikes waits in an SUV at the curb to pick us up and I open the backdoor for Peyton. Once she climbs inside, I slide in next to her, attempting to calm my anger as she watches me.

After several silent blocks, I turn my head her way. “You told me he was harmless.”

“I was in shock,” she insists. “And too embarrassed to tell you.”

I sigh as understanding sinks in, but I can’t force the anger to soften. The monster I’ve smothered since meeting Peyton stirs inside me. “Don’t ever lie to me again.”

“I didn’t . . . I wasn’t . . .”

“You lied. I asked if he ever bothered you and you said no.”

“I did not. I said he asked me out and that he was harmless.”

“You lied.”

“I didn’t lie, I deflected.”

“You lied,” I turn in the seat, anger surging through me as I glare heatedly at her. “You hustled me.”

“Hustled you?” She laughs hard but there’s irritation in her stare. Her teeth dig into her bottom lip as she shakes her head. “What is this? A Paul Newman movie? What, I’m Tom Cruise and I’m here to hustle you out of a few thousand dollars and be on my way? Seriously? Do you hear how ridiculous that sounds?”

I’m not amused by her joke. Anger burns my skin. She doesn’t understand and before I can stop myself, I’m lashing out. “Shut up! Shut your damn mouth. This isn’t a fucking joke!”

“Why are you so pissed?”

I ball my fists, raising them above my head as I fight off frustration. How can she not see it? “Because you fucking lied to me!”

“I can’t do this.” Her arms fold over her chest as she turns her head. “Take me home.”

“Fine!”

I tap on the glass between the seats and tell Mike to take us to Peyton’s when he rolls the window down.

The time it takes to reach Peyton’s