I opened the door and stepped out, but immediately realized my mistake when he took an intimidating step toward me and backed me up against the vehicle.
He removed his sunglasses and I didn’t like the ice water in his eyes. Or the way they lingered over my breasts as he looked me up and down.
“Step away from me, officer,” I said.
Instead of taking a step back, he took a step closer until I was wedged between him and the patrol car.
“Or what? You going to yell? You going to scream? Look around us, Chastity, no one is around to hear you.”
Anger and fear collided in me. He knew my name. And he was right. The road was unusually quiet.
I had stepped into a very bad situation. But I refused to let him intimidate me.
This was something to do with club business.
My mouth felt like it was filled with sawdust. “What do you want?”
He licked his lips and I saw the malice and heat in his eyes.
“Oh, baby, there’s a lot I want from you.” His hands found my hips. “And I’m just dying to take it. But how about we start with the basics. I’ve got a message for your uncle. A message from people high up in the food chain, so to speak.” He shoved his hand between my thighs. “Tell him to stay out of Gimmel Martel’s business or things are going to get real ugly.”
I gritted my teeth.
“Get. Your. Hands. Off. Me.” I demanded.
But he just laughed and put his hands on my hips again.
“Such a tough little girl. Got yourself some mouth on you.” Lust shimmered across his face and he licked his lips. He slid his hands upwards from my hips to my waist. “You should put that mouth to better use, and I have some real good ideas.”
I wasn’t going to let him get away with what he was doing.
Deputy Monroe had crossed the line.
He was trying to intimidate me.
Had just assaulted me.
Why? To send a message to the club.
My heart pounded and I wanted to scream. But there was another part of me, one born from being raised in the club, that took over.
“You want to send a message to the club?” I asked.
“Oh yeah, I’m going to send a big message,” he leered.
I drew in a deep breath, summoning everything I had ever learned over the years, listening to my brothers, my uncle, Ruger.
My eyes met his. “Well… let me reply on their behalf.”
Being up so close to Deputy Monroe, one thing had become very apparent.
Deputy Monroe was bogus.
The uniform. The badge. The hat. They were all fake.
But the Glock in his holster definitely wasn’t.
You didn’t grow up in an MC and not know how to tell a fake gun from a real one.
When he decided to get handsy again, I grabbed it from his holster and shoved it under his chin.
“What the—” he growled.
“If you think I won’t use it, then I promise you that will be your last mistake,” I warned, jamming the muzzle harder into his jaw bone. My blood buzzed with adrenaline and pounded through my veins. Feeling the rage of him putting his hands on me, I turned us around so his back was against the car. “Now open the door and get in.”
He paused, his cold eyes glaring into mine, before he reluctantly turned and opened the door.
But I wasn’t nearly done with him.
Because he had been so handsy and thought he could cop a feel, I slammed the door on his hand.
He yelled with pain, his eyes almost bulging out of his head.
“Oops, my bad,” I said as I opened the door again.
“You fucking bitch!” he yelled, gripping his now broken hand.
I leaned toward him, my eyes fixed to his as I drove my knee up into his balls.
Again, he roared with pain and crumpled over.
“You… fuck…” he wheezed.
I pressed the end of the Glock into his shoulder, forcing him to straighten. “Don’t you know it’s bad manners to put your hands on a woman without being invited?” I gestured to the car. “Now get the fuck in.”
As he lowered himself into the driver’s seat, I grabbed the handcuffs from his fake tactical belt. I slid them onto his wrist, the one attached to his black and blue hand, then snaked it through the steering wheel.
“You’re going to pay for this,” he growled.
“See, that’s where you’re wrong.” I waved the gun in front of his face. “Because I’ve got the gun and you’re handcuffed to the goddamn steering wheel.”
His nostrils flared and sweat dribbled down his temple. “You fucking whore.”
I pressed the Glock into his cheek. “Call me any more names and I’m going to shoot you in the face. Repeatedly.”
And I wasn’t kidding.
Maybe I was in shock. Or maybe it was hardwired into my DNA. Whatever it was, this asshole had pressed my last button. I knelt down and whispered in his ear, “How does it feel, Deputy Monroe? You just got your ass handed to you by a girl.”