Page 28 of Cold Foot Cash

“He ruined my phone!” one of the guys yelled.

She wanted to scream back at him about busting out Cash’s windows, but she needed to keep her cool right now.

“He did mess up a phone,” she said honestly. “He deleted the pictures of me off it and dropped it into one of their beers.”

One of the officers snorted a laugh, but then cleared his throat and said, “Go on.”

“He told them to leave, because I was uncomfortable. We were fine and left a little while later. We’re staying across the street,” she said, pointing in the direction of the motel. “He came out to his truck to get something.”

“When you came out to your truck, what happened?” the tall officer asked Cash, who was still staring at her like she’d lost her mind.

“I noticed the guys waiting for me. That dude had a baseball bat and my windows were busted out.”

The tall officer—Officer Romo, his nametag read—asked, “Who took the first swing?”

“The guy with the bat. He aimed for my head.” Cash shrugged. “I didn’t feel like dying today, so I fought back.”

Two of the other officers near Cash exchanged glances. “You fought all of them?”

“Yes sir,” Cash murmured.

“Are you a shifter?”

Cash nodded. “I gave them a chance to back out of it. I just wanted them to get away from my truck. I’m already going tohave to pay to have the windows all replaced and the freakin’ doors and mirrors. That’s my truck, man.”

“How much have you had to drink tonight?” Officer Romo asked him.

“A couple beers. The bartender can show you my tab. I’m fine with that. It’ll show a beer for me and the lady, and then she bought me a beer and herself a margarita an hour after that. Check her tab too, if you want.”

“He seems fine,” one of the other officers said low to Officer Romo. “We always have trouble with Brake and his guys.”

“Hey, this one ain’t on us!” Brake, Harley assumed his name was, yelled.

Officer Romo glared at the guys, and then blew out a breath and said, “Okay, I just need both of you to write your statements and sign them, and then you can leave. I’ll give you the case number. It might help you with an insurance claim for the truck. Go straight to the motel though okay? No more fights tonight.”

“Just tonight?” Cash asked through a smirk.

“Ever. No more fights in this town ever. They didn’t even know what they were getting into.” Officer Romo murmured something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like the word, ‘idiots.’

They filled out the statement forms, and then Cash retrieved a few things out of his truck so no one would steal them with the windows all busted out.

She waited with him, and offered to hold the jacket and the flannel he pulled out, but he shook the glass out and told her, “I don’t want you getting cut. I’ll carry them.”

He grabbed a pocket knife from the console and some cash he’d stashed there, then grabbed her hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. He nodded to the officers as they passed a few of them, but as they passed the couple of guys lined up on the curb, still getting medical attention for their destroyedfaces, he pulled her to his other side, and placed himself between them.

That protective instinct was natural for him. She could tell. He didn’t make a fuss about it, just maneuvered her to his other side and glared down the guys who were watching them leave. “See you soon boys,” he promised.

And she could see it so clearly. Every one of them dropped their gazes. Was it the fire in his eyes, or the promise in his tone? Was it the anger in his voice?

“You’re dangerous, aren’t you?” she asked as he pulled her across the street toward the motel.

“Not to you.” And she believed him.

Cash was quiet as they walked down the hallway together. When they got to the door, he released her hand, and backed off a few feet. Harley unlocked the door, and stood there with it propped open on her shoe.

“I don’t…” He frowned, and wouldn’t meet her eyes. His knuckles still had blood all over them.

She gestured to his hands. “Are you hurt?”

---