Page 8 of His Valentine

“Sure, I can do that. It’s not you being frisked, having zero idea what’s going on. All I’ve been doing is making extra money, keeping my head down, and look what it’s gotten me.” Trent huffs out a breath. His chest meets my back, which does nothing for my wayward thoughts. I can feel him through his clothes. The outline of his cock hits my ass, and imagine my surprise when he moves in closer.

“It’s about to get you a whole hell of a lot more, Kennedy.” I feel his hand touch my wrist, pulling it behind my back. The metal clink of the handcuffs is cold against my heated skin. Trent takes my other hand and links it with the first, and I’m officially arrested. Never in all of my thirty-two years on this earth have I ever had this type of problem. Picking the wrong man to father my daughter? Yes. Choosing to not take handouts when I should have? Yes. But never have I been arrested.

“Please don’t say my name in here.” I close my eyes, forehead pressed against the pole, legs spread wide. Dignity is a thing of the past.

“No fucking problem. What I do next, you’re not gonna like. Cooperate, though, yeah? My agency isn’t the only one here. I’m going to take you to my patrol car, put you in the back, and finish what I have to do. I need to know what you have here, and we’ll figure out the rest. I’m swinging my ass out on the line. These guys could take you, and even I couldn’t get you out. There are SWAT, DEA, O.C.P.D, and Homeland Security is creeping the fuck in. Nod your head if you understand.” My stomach sinks to my toes. I could curl into a ball and cry myself to sleep right this instant. Instead, I do what Trent says and nod.

“Alright, nice and easy.” He helps me stand up straight. The lights are now completely on. Some of the officers have dispersed along with customers who I’m assuming weren’t in thebackroom. I’m paraded down the steps of the stage, keeping my eyes averted from everything going on. The less I see, the less I know, and the less I’ll think about late at night when the house is quiet.

“Hawthorne, you good?” another man in the same gear as Trent asks.

“Yeah, I’ve got her. Give me a minute, and I’ll be back in to help with anything else.” We never stop walking, maintain a momentum that won’t have me toppling over yet enough to get us to where we’re going at a pace where I have to be sharp on my feet. Trent is on a mission, whether it’s to shred me to bad cop or good cop is anyone’s guess.

“Sounds good.” The night air calms my haywire nerves a little bit. Gone is the smoke-filled room mixed with cologne, alcohol, and sweat. At least the silver lining in being arrested is I get fresh air. You know, minus missing my last night of making money, being humiliated, and having Trent witness my demise. Otherwise, it’s a normal Saturday night.

“Watch your head,” Trent says. We’re at his patrol car, undercover style, black on black. He helps guide me in the back, which is a lot harder with handcuffs on, mind you. Yet I look at his face the entire time, watching the tightening of his jaw as my breasts bounce free out in the open. He’s not as unaffected as he likes to pretend to be.

“Do you have a jacket at least?” I didn’t ask because there were piles of people around, plus he told me to remain quiet. What he didn’t do is read me my Miranda rights. Hmm, I have a sneaking suspicion this isn’t your typical run-of-the-mill arrest.

“Yeah, hold on,” he grunts, backing away to move toward the front seat. I watch him the entire time. Trent’s presence dominates the space around you. He’s more than aware of it, too, at least it seems that way.

“Thanks.” I’m immediately warmed up with his hoodie, the police department logo emblazoned on the front and his spicy scent clinging to the fabric. Trent tucks it around me as much as he can with how I’m situated.

“No problem. Be right back.” I don’t respond. He’s back to being Detective Hawthorne. He’s locked down, not even so much as looking at me. I should not feel ashamed. No one should ever make you feel this way, especially when you’re doing your best to try and earn a living. Too bad Trent never got that memo.

6

TRENT

The shock of my motherfucking life. It’s like today, the universe woke up and said let’s throw shit on top of more shit. On Valentine’s Day, no less, not that I’m much of a romantic. Given the choice, I’d much rather have Kennedy in my cuffs while she’s spread bare for me. There’s no holding back now. I’m done playing pretend when it comes to me wanting her.

I hustle back to the car. There’s a nip to the air, and I didn’t keep the car running with the heat on. I’m a selfish prick; it’d put me behind even more had I stopped to start the car. As it is, Chase and the captain wanted to know who I put in my car. I did some quick talking, telling them who Kennedy is, and they knew who she was related to. It’s kind of hard not to when everyone knows fucking everyone. Cap made the exception, but I’m to get her written statement as soon as fucking possible, his words, and there was definitely a bite to his tone.

“Sorry that took so long,” I say, settling into the driver’s seat, starting the car, putting it into gear, and leaving the scene. Tomorrow morning is going to be a bitch and a half with theamount of paperwork I’m leaving in my wake. I’m also going to owe Chase a shit ton favors. I expect he’ll be cashing in soon, too.

“No problem. Nothing like sitting here with my wayward thoughts.” Kennedy shrugs her shoulders. I take my eyes off the road for a moment to take her in. Jesus Christ, the hoodie drops from her body, baring her tits to me again. You’d never know she’s a mom to an almost seven-year-old. Kennedy’s body is fucking banging: slender shoulders, tits that are perky and a handful, slim waist, hips that flare out, and thighs I want to feel wrapped around me while I finally take the woman I’ve been keeping away from. That doesn’t negate the fact my cock perks up anytime she’s around, let alone when I think about her. The callouses on my hand are from fisting my cock. Anytime I’m in the shower or in bed, I’m instantly brought back to the moment I kissed her. The only mistake I made was not taking it further.

“Kennedy,” I groan her name, deep from my chest. This is going to be a long-as-fuck ride home.

“What, do my boobs offend you, Trent?” She is uncomfortable. She may not think I have been in her shoes, and while it’s not the same thing entirely, we did have training where they made us do similar.

“Nah, babe, enjoying the view. A whole damn lot.” I turn my blinker on and head back to Whispering Oaks. The areas surrounding where we live may be spread out, but the interstate makes getting there a whole lot faster, by at least ten minutes, after going above the speed limit yet keeping us safe, too. Whereas Kennedy lives in a subdivision, I live on a small plot of land out in the middle of nowhere. I’d had high hopes of having a sort of hobby type farm set up, but there’s never been a chance with my work schedule.

“Shocking.” I turn the heat up, moving the vents until they’re pointed toward her. I should have pulled over and uncuffed her, except that could mean others could have seen her, and I’ll bedamned if I’ll ever let that happen again. It took everything in me to shut down my emotions, become a wall, and be the police officer I’ve been trained to be.

“Not at fucking all,” I say under my breath, exiting the interstate. Two more roads, and we’ll be back at my place. Then we’re going to talk, and I’m going to keep her attached to me until we get everything out in the open. Asher Fontaine may be my best friend and the reason I held back, but that ends tonight.

“What did you say?” she asks, moving around to reposition herself. All it does is open her shirt more, and her skirt lifts up closer to where I’m dying to get my mouth between.

“Nothing that can’t wait. You wanna tell me why you had this elaborate lie of working at a college bar instead of being truthful?” I open a can of worms, figuring if we get this out of the way, we can move on to the next part, and then we can end tonight an entirely different way.

“Oh, I don’t know. Probably because between Asher, you, and everyone else, I’d get the judgment that was written on your face when you barged into the club tonight. Then there’s the fact that I needed money and didn’t want it thrown in my face, namely by my father’s wife, or to have another payment to make monthly. I have my reasons, and they’re damn good, too. The other shit that happened tonight, I’ll be completely honest, I have no idea. I steered clear of the backrooms; I dance the stage and only the stage. The backroom is for others, not for me. Mitch tried to have me do a hell of a lot more. We argued, he tried to brow beat me, I stood my ground, and all I had to do was breathe a hint of quitting for him to back off.” Kennedy is a wealth of information, getting it all out in the open, and for that, I’m thankful. The truth of the matter is I’m tempted to turn this car around, find Mitch, and give him a taste of his own medicine. Maybe I’ll make a call to the jail, ask to put him in general population. There are a lot of inmates in there who don’t take lightly to pressuring womeninto doing things they don’t like or sex trafficking. Fuck. They’d do the job of tearing him apart for me. Her getting this out also means the bad part of the night is about to be over. “Now, I can tell you the other guy… Shit, what’s his name.”

“DeMarco?” I interrupt.

“Maybe, dark hair and beard, thick waist?”

“That’s him,” I confirm.

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