Page 29 of Smolder

“Someone’s here to get you out, Vin,” the cop said as he unlocked the cell.

I watched as the asshole looked at me.

“About time,” he said, standing up. “Who are you?”

“A friend of your daughter’s.”

His gaze narrowed. “Where is she at? Sending some man to come get me. Mean little fucker, that one.”

Okay, so Royal might be a lot of things that were questionable, but this was her father. He felt it was okay to call his daughter a fucker. I tensed, ready to knock him back down with my fist.

“You can’t be talking about Royal. Maybe I got the wrong guy. Because the woman I am referring to is at home, taking care of your mother.”

His eyes widened slightly as I took a step toward him, not trying to hide the disgust or anger in my tone or expression.

“You got the right guy. I didn’t mean nothing by it. Just joking a bit. Course she’s taking care of her Grams. She’s a good girl.” Unlike his daughter, he was a terrible fucking liar.

“Come on, before I change my mind,” I told him, then turned to stalk back out the way I had entered.

“Who are you?” he asked. “Did you pay for this? ’Cause we ain’t got the money to pay you back. She didn’t promise you we would, did she?”

I hadn’t paid shit. He was here because of a call my father had made.

“Why don’t you shut up, Vin, before you are back in there and I have to listen to you bitch all night?” the cop snarled at him.

I didn’t look at him until we reached the exit, and then I shoved open the door and turned to him.

“No one owes me anything,” I told him.

He nodded and studied me before walking out past me out the door. “You a friend of Merce then?”

I shook my head. “I’m a friend of Royal’s.”

The truck pulled up, and I walked over and jerked the door open.

“Get inside,” I told him.

“Who is that?” he asked, his eyes shifting from Wells to me.

“A friend. He’s taking you home. Now, get in the goddamn truck,” I ordered.

He climbed inside. “Ain’t no need to be rude. I can walk back, you know.”

But he wasn’t walking. He was getting inside.

I slammed the door, then headed for my car. Tomorrow night’s date had to be planned, and it needed to be one she couldn’t stop thinking about. I had an idea, but I should run it by a woman. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I dialed Storm’s number.

“Yeah?” he barked into the phone.

“I need Briar’s help.”

“With what?” The possessive tone was amusing.

“Planning my date.”

“With the Shelton girl?”

“Yep.”

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