Chosen To Die (Alvarez & Pescoli)

Heidi’s prick of a father.

Shit!

“What’s he doing here?” the big buffoon demanded, stepping around Alvarez and looming over Jeremy seated in the uncomfortable chair. In an instant, Jeremy was on his feet, almost standing eye to eye with the tall cop.

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Lisa Jackson

“He’s worried about his mother.”

Brewster gave him the evil eye. “You should be in lockup for what you did, Strand.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Got my daughter drunk. God knows what else would have happened if you hadn’t been picked up.” He was mad all over again, his face turning red, his lips bloodless.

“Cool it,” Alvarez said tautly.

Brewster hooked a thumb in Jeremy’s direction.

“All this little jerk-off wants to do is get high and drunk, then go out driving and try to get into my little girl’s pants.” He leveled a hate-filled glare at Jeremy. “You keep your filthy, horny hands off my daughter, you hear me, boy? You so much as call her, I’ll have you arrested.”

“For what?”

“Anything you can think of, only worse.”

“Enough!” Alvarez snapped out. She stepped between Jeremy and Brewster. She was a full head shorter, but she held her ground even though Heidi’s dad was her boss. “Let me handle this, sir,”

she said, trying to defuse the situation, but it was too far gone.

Jeremy smelled the fight before the first punch had been thrown. Though his brain warned him, Don’t let the old fart goad you into it. Don’t try to take him down, he felt that sizzle in his blood, the tension in his muscles, the tightness between his shoulders. God, he’d love to land one fist onto Cort HolierThan-Thou Brewster’s smug face. The old man felt it, too. “Come on, punk. Hit me. You know that’s what you want to do.”

“Undersheriff Brewster!” Alvarez was still wedged between them. “Stand down! Both of you.”

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“But the punk thinks he can take me. Sick little perverted prick. He wants to screw my daughter and beat the crap out of me. Isn’t that right, Strand? You’re a loser, you know that. A dope-smoking, beersucking loser, and Heidi’s too good for you, so you just stay away.”

Jeremy’s fist balled so hard it hurt.

Just one shot, that’s all he wanted. To show this asshole what he was.

“Try it, sissy.”

Oh, God.

His cell phone beeped. Another text message.

“What’s that?”

“We’ve got more important things to worry about,” Alvarez pointed out coldly.

In a second, Brewster lunged and had Jeremy up against the wall, one arm twisted painfully behind his back, his face turned sideways but smashed into the cinder blocks.

“Stop it!” Alvarez ordered.