Speed King (Men of Action 1)

“What did that locker do to you?”

I spear Ford with a hard glare, not in the mood for his shit. He ignores it, slinging his gym bag across his chest and shutting his own locker.

“You were there. She needs to get out and leave his ass.”

“I’ll gladly take drunk and disorderly and barroom brawls over a domestic. At least D&D’s get the sober tank and usually have remorse when they dry out.”

“We need to talk to her again. Let’s swing by on our way home.”

“No,” he deadpans, his expression hard.

“No?”

“No, Ace. There are countless reasons that’s a bad idea.”

“Did you miss the marks on her arms? They’ll be bruises by now.”

“I didn’t fucking miss them, nor the already fading bruises on her legs. But we can’t make her press charges. Shit, Ace, it was the neighbors who called it in. That woman isn’t in the right headspace.”

“She’s being beaten by that low-life motherfucker.”

“Yeah, she is. And that’s exactly what he is—a motherfucker. But she has to be the one to take action. Unless we catch him in the act, or she presses charges, we’re at an impasse.”

“It fucking blows.”

Hal walks up, a file in his hand, his eyes angry. “Do I need to remind you two of protocol?”

“Nope,” Ford affirms.

I blow out an angry breath as my answer.

“Good, because regardless of being badass soldiers who have experienced more action on the ground than most the cops in this department, you’re rookies.”

Something in the way he says it puts my instincts on alert. “Rookies are still cops.”

“Yes, but there’s a difference. You’re my rookie, under my guidance, and I won’t stand for skating lines.”

“Jesus, Hal. A woman’s being beaten; some lines need to be skated.”

He casts a glance over his shoulder to check if we are alone. The other guys are ghosts.

“You bet your ass lines need to be skated.” His voice goes low and acidic. “This wasn’t an isolated event. One look and it’s obvious that man married up. Seen too many like him in my career. Wealthy, spoiled, and thinks his shit doesn’t stink. Bad combination. Don’t know how he landed her. My guess is he used money and influence enough to sway her, then put that rock on her finger the first chance he got. Punk ass like that needs to be taught a lesson.”

“That sounds more like a protocol I’m familiar with.” Ford rocks back on his heels.

“What are you suggesting?” I cross my arms, scanning Hal’s face.

“Officially, all paperwork is processing. I signed off that it was a false alarm domestic and the neighbor misunderstood the shouting. Unofficially, I have a new file with that woman’s name on it.” He waves the folder.

For the first time since we received the call-out at midnight, the tension in my shoulders loosens. “What ya got?”

“Not much yet. The good news is her medical file is clean. Except for a nasty case of pneumonia last year that put her in the hospital, there’ve been no reports of abuse.”

“That doesn’t mean dick.”

“No, it doesn’t. But interestingly, there also isn’t a record of her marriage, either. My gut tells me we’re dealing with a narcissistic SOB that’s put a phony symbol on her for control.”

“What can we do?”

“Nothing.”

I open my mouth to argue, but he points the corner of the file my way. “Nothing yet. Seen women like her before, and she is mortified. If the abuse has just begun, she may process and, in her own way, figure out how to leave the asshole. But I’ll be digging more into this guy.”

“Keep us updated,” Ford requests.

“Yeah, you’re not officially under my guidance, but I’ll keep you in the loop.”

Ford’s phone chimes, and his eyes slice my way. The little tension that seeped away ricochets back up my spine. I grab my bag from the bench, ready to move.

“Thanks, Hal. Catch ya on Thursday.”

“Actually, you’ll see me tomorrow night. Amanda’s been on the line, calling all the wives. Tomorrow night, ladies’ night at Tom’s. Reba arranged for her parents to take the kids, which means she plans to blow it out. Last time my wife blew it out proved in my favor. My ass will be at Tom’s with Rich and the other men watching the game while the women do whatever they do.”

I can’t help my lip twitch, knowing exactly how a drunk Reba ‘proved in his favor’. Jewls and Harley finally wore down Tom on the ladies’ night concept, and tomorrow is the official kick-off. Harley’s been promoting like crazy.

“See you then. We need to go,” Ford breaks in abruptly.

I flick a hand and follow Ford to his truck, not speaking until we’re on the road. “What’s up?”

“Nothing good. Talon got a message from Willie. He’s calling in thirty.”

At the name Willie, my entire body strings solid. All thoughts of the past shift disappear.