Page 44 of Speed Trap

“Help me.” My faint whisper went unheard, unnoticed. Tears poured from my eyes, choking me as I turned to the officer behind me still securing cuffs on Benson’s wrists. “Help me!”

Panic of a different sort consumed me as Sunny gasped, a thin, reedy noise that rattled in my ears. I held her until hands pried my arms from her and whisked her away.

I fought that, too.

And finally, after hours of questions and answers, I got to follow her.

“Coffee is disgusting.” Sunny sat propped up in her hospital bed, clutching a takeaway cup filled with lukewarm liquid. Her voice was slightly more than a whisper. Dark purple bruises circled her eyes, though they had nothing on the necklace around her throat that Benson put there. Currently a thick brace held her chin up. She raised a hand, tugging at the scratchy material.

I batted her fingers away. “Only because you’re drinking it through a straw. And stop that.”

“It’s so uncomfortable.”

“Better being able to walk, though.”

“There is that.” She smiled. It faded, as they all did after a second.

The nurses and the unit psych had assured me she would regain her usual nature over time. There were no fractures or breaks, no spinal damage which was a relief in itself, but she’d sustained a lot of bruising that had to reduce before she could be released. Each physical step toward healing would help, though the thing she wanted most—the thing that swamped me with relief—was that she still wanted me beside her.

“How’s it feel?”

“Peachy.” Her lips twisted and she winced. I caught the takeaway cup as she dropped it, raising her hands to her cheeks. “Everything hurts,” she rasped.

“I know, Princess. But you’re gonna get better. And you get to come home, soon.”

“Mmhm.”

“You can do better than that,” I prompted with a smile.

She stared at me with pain-filled eyes, her new equivalent of shaking her head. “No, I can’t.”

And the tears that had refused to fall before came fast and hard now. I cradled her gently in my arms, careful not to bump her head or neck as she hicupped into my shoulders.

“It’s okay, Sunny. He’s gone. He’ll never hurt you again.”

“I know. But I still see him and— and—” The tears started again. She managed a shaky breath, whispered a word that sounded suspiciously likeRandy.

“Fucking asshole.” I swore against the top of her head. “He’s gone too.” For good.

Benson’s little photographer shadow. I’d done enough damage to the backstabbing asshat when I threw him over my hood, and he had been more than forthcoming in backing my story over Benson’s pathetic attempt to twist my words.

The police had taken my version of the events. It was thanks to Bob Crawling’s statement however, the homeless man Sunny looked after for the last few nights and a little pull in the legal department I had walked away, and straight back to her.

Benson hadn’t held anything back and blamed both me and his little sidekick, but that hadn’t held up for a hot minute, especially when he let slip that Randy was responsible for the ongoing vandalism to my workshop as well as her car. The police seemed to be happy to assume it was on his command, and booked him for it.

“Thank you,” Sunny whispered for the thousandth time, no matter how often I shushed her.

Her fingers wound around mine tight as I pressed a tender kiss to her lips in a promise to never let my ego hurt her—or anyone else—ever again.

Sunny had been back home for a week when I got the call. I stood on her front porch, jiggling my keys in my pocket when she opened the door.

“You jagged a spot out front! I’m taking you shopping with me next time I need a parking fairy.” She gave me her usual smile and my heart ached at the still rare sight.

The brace was off, though a necklace of dull bruises circled her slim throat.

“You look beautiful.” I folded my arms around her, pulling her gently into me without stepping inside the house.

Sunny drew back, a flush brightening her cheeks. “What will the neighbors say?”

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