Page 29 of His Lovebug

“It’s early for drunks,” Morgan said with wide eyes.

“Yeah.”

She gasped, and at the same time I noticed a gun sticking out of the passenger window. We instinctively ducked together and huddled against the side of the building as blast after blast fired off. I moaned when I realized it was my car that was getting used for target practice. I was shaking as I held Morgan close and vaguely registered that my knees were scraped and aching from dropping to the sidewalk. The side door on the van opened and a body was flung onto the hood of my car. Seconds later, the vandisappeared down the street. I rushed forward, but there was no license plate.

“The men’s faces were covered,” Morgan whispered. “Shit, shit, shit!” She hopped up and rushed toward my car, and I followed her. Other people poured out of the diner, some on their phones, others yelling, some snapping photos.

My stomach sank when I stopped near my car. Had I thought Tyler looked bad when he’d arrived at my house this morning? Turned out death hadn’t improved him. I gagged a little and covered my mouth.

“Holy shit!” Morgan shouted.

“Yeah, things arenotokay,” I murmured. In the distance, sirens that sounded like a fire truck were getting closer. “We don’t know anything, when the cops ask.”

Morgan gave me a strange look. “Of course we don’t.”

Police cars came tearing around the corner of the street from opposite ends, converging near us.

“Shit,” I muttered.

Morgan gave me a shocked glance because I never swear, but if anything called for it, a dead man on my wrecked car sure did.

11

COLT

I stormed into the Downtown Station, rage settling low in my stomach as I curled my hands into fists. The moment I’d received a call from Nitro, the man I’d sent to keep an eye on Quin from a distance, I’d moved like my ass was on fire. I’d called Derek from the Hummer, and he’d told me that he’d get a lawyer to meet me here, and while I didn’t knowwhywe needed one, I was grateful to have backup. I didn’t trust the pigs as far as I could throw them, and if they had my fiancé and he hadn’t called me yet, there was a goddamned reason.

Nitro had filled me in on everything—the drive-by shooting that resulted in a body being thrown onto Quin’s car. I didn’t need to be a genius to work out who the corpse was. Tyler’s confidence was the reason he was dead. Topher didn’t forgive and forget; he was a sadistic man who believed in punishment. This was Tyler’s reckoning. Now he was all meat and bones with no brain activity.

I’d been suspicious of Topher’s motives after Tyler’s comments when he’d come to the house, but I should’ve been more active in figuring out what was happening. Instead, I’dthought Quin would be safe for now. Fucking foolish. Because of my stupidity, Quin could’ve been killed. What kind of future husband was I?

As soon as I slammed through the door of the station, I stalked to the front counter, shoving people out of the way. I smacked my hand on the ledge in front of me, and a young police officer gave me a bored look from behind her thick plexiglass barrier. The only space free was above the counter, hardly big enough to slide through paper. Holes in the obstruction made it easier to hear and talk to the person on the opposite side, otherwise it was a safeguard in every way for the police.

“Sir, you need to wait in line like everyone else,” the police officer said, voice an irritating monotone. She blinked at me, unfazed by my murderous stare. Straightening, she flattened her already thin lips and placed her slim fingers on the workspace in front of herself.

“You have my wife,” I growled out, not interested in any type of patience. “I want to see himnow.”

“Sir, I won’t say it again. Go to the back of the line.” She narrowed her eyes at me.

I shot a glance behind me, the kind that promised retaliation if anyone messed with me, and people scuttled until there was no longer a line. When I looked back at the police officer, I sent her a sardonic smile. “No line. Now,my wife.”

Her jaw twitched and she huffed, reaching up to pat her slicked-down brown hair wound tightly into a bun. There was no way in hell a strand of hair would escape. “What is her name?”

“Hisname is Quincy Kiskadden, and he was brought in here after someone shot at his car and left a body on it.”

She hesitated. “Forgive me, sir, but I thought you said your wife.”

“I did.” I rolled my eyes. Anger burned hot in my chest, and as much as I wanted to reach under the plexiglass, grab herwrist, and drag her forward to ram her into the barrier that protected her—I resisted. That would only get me jail time, not help Quin. “Now fucking tell me where he is. If he’s a witness to a crime, why is he being held?”

Her nostrils flared. “Sir, do not speak to me that way. What is your name?”

I grinned because there was no way she wouldn’t have heard of me. “Matthew Coltrane.”

She froze as she rested her fingers on the keyboard of the computer in front of her and glanced at me from the corner of her eye. Clearing her throat, she typed. “Your...wife is currently being interviewed about the incident, Mr. Coltrane.”

“I want to see him.” I thumped my hand on the glass.

“You will when the interview is finished.” She stared unwaveringly, and any other time I might’ve been impressed with her. I wasn’t in the mood right now, though.

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