I'd Rather Not (KPD Motorcycle Patrol 3)

But when I did, I saw that she was with not a teller, but one of the people in the little rooms off to the side.

She was sitting at the seat in front of the desk, and she was twirling a lock of hair that’d escaped from her high ponytail that was centered at the top of her head.

Justice walked up to the front of the counter, standing behind a nervous looking man that was practically dancing on his feet at the counter.

Knowing Justice could handle whatever that man was on, I turned my attention back to the woman that was now very much aware that I was there.

I wasn’t sure when she looked up, but we did have a sixth sense, it seemed, when it came to knowing the other was there.

I grinned at the woman—my woman—and saw twin flashes of red hit each of her cheeks.

Whatever she was talking to the woman about was ended fast, and about a minute later, Oakley came hurrying out with a smile on her face. A smile that was only mine.

I lifted my hand and waited for her to walk to me.

She didn’t disappoint.

But where I expected her to stop a respectable distance away, she kept right on walking, straight into my arms.

She went up onto tiptoes and pressed her lips against the underside of my jaw, then stepped back with a pleased smile on her face as she half-wrapped my hand that she still held tightly in hers around her ass.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” she asked with a smile.

I tightened my arm around her ass and pulled her in tight.

There was no hiding the erection that always popped up when she was near, and she felt it and flashed me a large grin.

“I can’t help it,” I muttered when she gave me that knowing smile. “And we were eating lunch across the street at Subway. We had fifteen minutes left when Jackson showed with his wife, so we decided to leave and come over here so Justice could run to the bank.”

Oakley scrunched her nose up rather cutely.

“I don’t like that man,” she sighed. “And, I have some weird news. Which is why I’m here. I had a visit from my landlord.”

My brows rose. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “I was going to talk to you about it when you came over for dinner, but since you’re here, and I have a feeling you’re about to ask me why I’m here, I might as well tell you now.”

I raised a brow at her but didn’t say anything more than that.

She leaned more into my body and sighed.

“My landlords are moving to Florida to retire. They offered to let me buy the house. If I don’t want to buy it, then they’re going to list it to sell. They said I could live there until it did.” She paused. “I came up here to see what my options were. I’m not even sure that I can qualify for a loan at this point.”

I felt things inside of me tighten, but before I could offer any suggestions—like moving in with me—both Justice’s and my radio squawked, breaking the silence of the room.

“Silent alarm activated at Kilgore First Bank,” the dispatcher’s voice sounded out of our mics at our shoulders. “Unit 6M and 3M, please respond.”

When we’d stopped for lunch, we’d called in our location of where we were at. Meaning the dispatcher knew we were close—the closest units to the scene.

The bank we were currently standing in.

Both Justice and I stiffened.

The man that’d been bouncing on his toes at the teller’s window paused mid-bounce and turned around as if he was scared of what he would find behind him.

I felt Oakley’s fingernails dig into my forearm, and without even thinking, I shoved her back into the room that she’d previously come out of.

Before I could so much as blink, the woman that’d been talking with Oakley had the door closed and locked.

I sent a grateful look her way and started to move around the side of the room to the best place to have a clear shot of the bouncing man at the window, in case I needed it. One that would allow me to take out the man, and not Justice or the teller behind the counter.

Justice hadn’t so much as moved when the man turned around and regarded him slowly.

I reached for my mic and keyed in.

“This is 3M. We’re currently in the bank,” I said into my mic.

The man’s eyes flicked to where I was standing, covering the one and only exit. Then he freaked.

He reached for something at his back—where I assumed was a gun—and Justice reared back and punched him straight in the throat.

The man went down, gasping and writhing on the floor in agony.

The gun that he was reaching for skittered across the tiled floor, coming to a stop midway between me and Justice.