1
SELENA
“If you keep this up, you’ll be out of a job. I’m doing you a favor letting you work here! Selena!”
Like the screech of a gull, my boss’ words followed me out of the store as I wrestled with my bag with one hand and hurriedly ordered an Uber with the other.
It was a risk, leaving three hours before the end of my shift, but when the Los Angeles Police Department calls you and requests you down at the station because your car was involved in an accident, it’s not the sort of thing that can wait.
My first thought was my father.
All sorts of horrible car-related accidents flooded my mind as I sprinted full pelt down the street, confirming an Uber two blocks away. My car wasn’t in the greatest shape, so the keys were buried somewhere at the bottom of my purse after I’d left it parked outside my apartment before work. But my father was resourceful and his mind wasn’t in the greatest of shape anymore. Drugs would do that to you. Being an ex-cop, he knew of at least five ways to get into my car without the keys, and I wouldn’t put it past him to have camped out, waiting for me to leave.
Fuck.
I need that car.
Cramming a handful of dollars into the hand of my Uber driver, I thanked her for getting me here swiftly and safely, then hurried through the glass doors into the Station of the LAPD. The familiar cold smell of stale air mixed with sweat and antiseptic hit me like a punch on the nose.
I’d spent the better half of my childhood here, hanging off my mother’s every word about how cool and brave my father’s job was. It was exciting, having a father in the police force, and nothing made summer better than the BBQs with his friends on the force or the fancy dances that would follow the awards given out for bravery.
As a child, all of that was magical.
The reality was much colder. I didn’t know that his absences as I grew up were because he was an Undercover Officer. I didn’t know that his years around drugs as a Vice Cop were what led to his out-of-control drug addiction until I woke up one morning and my mother was gone. She’d had enough.
The absences, the weekly disappearances, and the lies were all too much for her, so she left, and I took over caring for him. As exhausting and draining as it was, I still held hope in my heart that one day, things would change.
Maybe a car accident would be the thing to do it.
“Hi, sorry, excuse me.” I placed my hands on the front desk and stood face to face with an elderly Officer whose chin trembled underneath a wiry mustache. “My name is Selena Hartley. I received a call about my car being involved in an accident?”
The Officer made a wet sound as if he was sucking on something, then turned to his computer and slowly typed in my details. My gaze drifted away from him and to the busy station brimming with life behind a glass-paneled wall. Years ago, I’d entertained the idea of joining the force and helping people. Seeing how far my father fell had crushed those dreams.
These days, I was usually toeing the wrong side of the line, just trying to keep him out of trouble.
“Detective Grant!” The elderly Officer called suddenly and a tall man halted halfway past the desk.
“What?”
“Miss Hartley is here. From your car wreck?”
I turned fully to face the Detective and placed my politest customer-service smile onto my face, but it wavered the moment we locked eyes, and all thoughts fled my mind.
Detective Grant was gorgeous. He was tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in a dark blue shirt and black slacks. Short, honey-blond hair swept across his forehead when he tilted his head, and a pair of crystal blue eyes twinkled at me from a face weathered by years on the force. His short, close-cropped beard had a dusting of silver, and when he offered out a hand for me to shake, my mouth watered at the sight of the muscles flexing on his bare forearm.
Fuck. If guys this hot wore the badge, maybe I should sign up.
“Miss Hartley?” Detective Grant’s voice cut through my runaway thoughts, and warmth immediately flushed across my cheeks. His attractiveness distracted me so much that I almost forgot I was here.
“Yes, I’m sorry.” I quickly shook his hand – his grip was firm and warm – and then remembered the call from earlier. “My car was in an accident or something. Was anyone hurt?”
Detective Grant reached for the tan folder he had tucked under one arm and his lips pressed together in a flat line.
“Follow me.”
That couldn’t be a good sign.
I followed him away from the front desk and into a small adjacent hallway where the sharp glare of the ceiling fluorescent light had me squinting awkwardly. How did they work in a place so bright?