Her Rock (Rocky Start)

With his gaze intent on me as I spoke to a classmate, he licked his lips and then it struck me. He’d slipped something into my drink. Nonchalantly setting the cup on the edge of the table, I reached for my bag and pulled out my cell. I sent Darcy a text to pick me up, and then slipped on my sundress over my semi-wet suit. He had a very unassuming look and had soccer dad written all over his exterior, but I saw predator in his eyes.

I’ll be there in ten minutes. I made small talk, refusing to look for him. I excused myself when Darcy sent me a text. I’m outside. I went through the kitchen and toward the front door. The hairs on the back of my neck darted up. As I was about to reach for the handle, he grabbed my arm and tried to pull me away from the entrance, but I kneed him in the balls and rushed out of the house. Darcy saw the fear in my eyes and called the cops.

They couldn’t do anything because the cup fell, and although there was a hint of an illegal substance in my drink, they couldn’t prove he did it. Three months later, he was arrested for the rape of another teenager. It took another six months for him to be prosecuted and sentenced to twenty years.

“You’re a fighter,” she adds, shaking me from the memory.

“I have great sisters to learn from. Now, let’s find Darcy so I can kick this fucker who took her in the balls before I shank him.”

“Seriously, I wonder about you.”

“Not much to wonder. I’m pretty damn nuts.” I shrug my shoulders and tilt my head with a smile.

“As long as you know it.” We giggle and then relax as best as we can.

The bus stops in a small town just outside of Denver and the two assholes get off—so that’s a blessing—and then we continue on for another hour.

Finally we arrive in Lakeland and I’m tired, hungry, and riled up all in one. I really could go for some food, but I have to find Sheriff Growly Pants first so we can find my sister.

We walk through the town, stopping outside a diner. My stomach growls, but I need to find the sheriff—that’s when I see a police car, so I saunter up to it. A tall man in a cowboy hat, a dark blue dress shirt, and a pair of tight jeans with a badge on his chest steps out with a scowl on his face. Hot damn. I suddenly want to be frisked. “Tell me this is my Sheriff Growly Pants,” I mutter under my breath.

Chapter Two

Whitaker

I run my hand across my face as I sit in my squad car. The past twenty-four hours have been a wild mess thanks to a bunch of out-of-towners and our usually quiet local celebrity. Bennett “Rocky” Lake strolls into town, quietest son of a bitch around, but somehow he’s managed to create a shit storm. Well, the shit storm surrounds him and a woman, something I never thought I’d see. He’s as reclusive and oblivious to the opposite sex as I am.

This all started because a fool came into town claiming that Bennett kidnapped a woman, but we all know Rocky. He’d never do it, so I went up there after the fucker made a stink, getting the gossips to start talking, which isn’t hard to do in a damn small town. After a minute of speaking to them, it’s clear as day that she’s there of her own volition and Rocky looks as if he’s going to kill that little fuck. I take him away before Rocky lets him have it. Since we were on his private property, that boy would have met his maker and I couldn’t have done anything about it.

I should have arrested him for making a false report, but he technically didn’t fill out paperwork—just created a motherfucking scene. In this small town, any gossip is welcome and cherished. Personally, I hate rumors and talk because I know what it’s like to be on the receiving end of that brutality, but it’s not criminal.

I thought this would be a peaceful morning, but no. The newspaper in town and many media sources from around the country have called my office asking about the incident. Several different calls have come in pretending to be her family and checking on her whereabouts.

It’s pissed me off all damn day, but the last one that called struck a chord. Something about the woman’s voice pulled me in and then our call ended too fast for my liking. She’s probably just another sneaky reporter, playing games to try and get information. It’s better to go with that, because after she hung up I sat in my office staring at nothing, doing my best to calm my racing pulse.