Page 36 of Shattered Hearts

One of the cops clears his throat.

“Let’s get this done,” Gage says, his voice hard, and the cop opens the back door of a cruiser and I climb inside.

Through the back window, I watch the firefighters inspect the smoking truck and other policemen question witnesses. I don’t turn around until the park is no longer in sight.

It’s difficult to see the officers through the mesh separating the front and back seats. “I’ve never been in a cop car before.”

Gage scoffs. “Bad people end up back here.”

“Ain’t that the truth?” the cop sitting in the passenger seat says, looking over his shoulder at us.

The precinct is huge, but cleaner and more modern than I thought it would be, policemen and civilian staff busy at work. We sit in a small conference room, and the cop who drove us offers us coffee we both decline. They ask Gage questions over and over, and the one who sneered at me is especially aggressive. “Anyone you’ve shafted lately? Would they want revenge? We heard you’re dating Zarah Maddox,” he says, tipping his head at me. “Maybe Ashton Black doesn’t like that very much.”

I frown. “Ash hates me.”

“Would that matter?”

Gage meets my eyes, and I can tell it’s something he hadn’t considered. It’s...intriguing Ash would hate I’m seeing someone, and it frightens me he would have no qualms about killing me for it.

“More than likely it’s an old case and someone has an axe to grind. I’ve helped put away a lot of sleazebags, and I don’t exactly wear a halo.”

“True enough,” the cop says, lifting a shoulder. “CSU will go over the truck, see if the bomb matches the MO of any other blasts. Otherwise, guess we’ll never know. You can email me a list of the places you’ve been in the past couple of days. Maybe a traffic cam caught the guy fucking around.” He slides a business card across the table, and Gage pushes it into his wallet.

“That’s it?” Gage asks, already standing.

“Yep. You’ll probably find the asshole quicker than we will, but if anything pops, we’d appreciate the heads up. We’ll do the same.”

The cop pulls out his cell phone, dismissing us, and I trot after Gage as his long strides eat up the bullpen, Baby pausing to sniff something every five seconds.

“They’re letting us go?” I ask, surprised.

“We didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart. I’ll email the officer and ask him to send me a copy of the report for my insurance—”

“You need a new truck!”

“No.”

“No?” I wilt in disappointment.

“Tables, yes. Trucks, no.”

I pout. “What’s the difference?”

“Forty thousand dollars.”

“We make that every fifteen minutes. I heard Zane say it once.”

“That isnota consolation.”

We stand on the sidewalk, people crowding past us, traffic clogging the streets. It’s New Year’s Day, and people are in the mood to celebrate.

“Now what?”

“Zane and Stella?” Gage asks.

“Right. I forgot.”

He sighs.

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