Page 181 of Hot Cops

Jayne glanced at the clock. “It’s nearly eleven. You better hurry or I might not be able to keep that promise.”

Stephanie headed for the back parking lot and her car, stepping out of the bar and into the late spring morning. It was May. Flowers were in full bloom, the trees and grass green and leafy. It was a beautiful day full of sunshine and clear blue skies. She drank in the clean air and willed away her dark mood. She could do this. Today was just a normal day.

One foot in front of the other.

Her pep talk and attempt at happiness was short-lived when twenty minutes later, she slammed her hand against the steering wheel of her Volkswagen Bug and started around the city block a second time.

“What the hell is going on?” It was a lousy Thursday and it wasn’t even lunchtime yet. There shouldn’t have been so many cars parked on the street. All she needed to do was dash into the liquor store for a few bottles of booze. Surely there was one open parking spot in this godforsaken city.

She hit another red light and her face flushed with a sudden surge of anger. She was two seconds away from blowing a major fuse. There was no denying it. She was trapped in the day from fucking hell. She’d overslept then, in her haste to get ready, she’d dropped her iPad mini in the toilet. Her cat had yakked up a hairball in the middle of her new dining room rug, and then the incident behind the bar with all the shattered liquor bottles.

Jayne was wrong. Stephanie did need a do-over, a chance to claim defeat, limp into bed and sleep ’til the growing headache pressing against her skull stopped hurting. Then tomorrow she’d try getting out of bed on the right side.

As she rounded the corner and faced passing the liquor store once more, she cried uncle on finding a parking spot. “Fuck it.”

She pulled up to a sweet cherry-red Camaro parked right in front of the store, threw on her blinkers and turned the car off. She could get what she needed in a jiffy. The street wasn’t that damn busy, and it was wide enough to support her brief stint of double-parking.

“Two minutes,” she said to no one in particular as she climbed out of the driver’s seat and hastily walked into the liquor store.

Jarod Nolan emergedfrom the barbershop and ran his hand through his short brown hair, enjoying the lighter, cooler feel of it. He’d considered letting it grow longer, now that he was a detective, to blend in with the lowlifes on the southeast side of the city, but after last night he’d decidedfuck it. It was time for a fresh start. He’d finally received his promotion to detective, a position he’d wanted since graduating from the police academy, and today was his first day in the new job.

He’d intended to celebrate his success last night with Cheryl, but that plan had backfired, big time, and now he didn’t feel much like smiling about anything.

He let his brain replay Cheryl’s words as she’d dumped him after the special dinner he’d organized. “I can’t really explain it, Jarod,” she’d said. “Fact is, you’re just too nice for me. You’re sort of boring.”

He rolled his eyes. Since when was being a cop synonymous with acting like a bad boy? Fucking television and movies glamorized a job that at times felt like little more than grunt work.

While Cheryl liked bragging to her girlfriends she was dating some super-macho version of Dirty Harry, the truth was he typically sat on his ass patrolling the streets for long hours, ticketing speeders and arresting drunks or abusive husbands. After hours of driving around in his patrol car, he preferred going home at the end of his shift and just chilling, watching movies or reading a book. Unfortunately, Cheryl would beg him for details about his day, hoping for some exciting drama she could relate to others. His real life never lived up to her romanticized idea of what it should be, and eventually he stopped talking about work completely.

“Boring,” he muttered, his temper spiking at the recollection. “Fucking nice.” A blonde woman, walking some poor frou-frou dog with ridiculous purple ribbons around its ears, gave him a quick sideways glance and then hurried along.

He’d dated Cheryl for nearly six months and, while the breakup wasn’t completely unwanted, he’d actually expected he’d be the one doing the dumping.

He walked down the sidewalk toward his car. As he approached, he realized he was blocked in by some asshole who’d decided to double-park.

What the fuck?

He glanced at the time on his cell phone. He was exactly ten minutes away from being late to work—on his first day in a new division. Great.

He sucked in an annoyed breath and then an evil thought occurred to him. Pretty stupid to double-park next to a cop. Maybe he should clock in early. He disengaged the locks on his car, opened the door, and reached toward the passenger seat, where he had his ticket book. He was supposed to turn it in today. As a detective, that was one part of the job he was looking forward to leaving behind.

Looked like he was about to write his last parking ticket.

Cheryl’s voice rang in his ears, taunting him.Too nice, huh?Yeah, well, this person was going to see just how nice he wasn’t.

He stood behind the light-blue convertible Bug and started writing down the tag numbers. If the owner didn’t show up in the next five minutes, he’d call for a tow truck. He did a mental tally of how much money this ill-advised decision was going to cost someone and let that figure soothe his anger.

He finished filling in the information before tearing off the ticket and tossing the book back into his car. He’d just thrust the ticket into the back pocket of his jeans, prepared to wait for the car’s owner, when a pretty chestnut-haired woman walked out of the liquor store with a box full of bottles. She acknowledged his presence behind her car with a quick nod then proceeded to place the box on the passenger seat of her vehicle. Looked like she was having one hell of a party.

She was an extremely attractive woman. He ventured to guess she was in her late twenties. Her light suntan told him she was either a sun worshipper or no stranger to a tanning bed. She wasn’t thin, though he wouldn’t say she was overweight either. When she bent down, he was treated to a pretty nice view of her full, round ass. He forced himself to look away before he forgot his purpose.

When he didn’t move, she looked at him, her chocolate-brown eyes capturing his as she shrugged. “Parking is brutal in town these days.”

He nodded. She had no reason to suspect he was a cop. He was dressed in street clothing and driving his own car. There wasn’t anything to clue her in to how screwed she was.

“Double-parking is illegal.”

His comment stopped her for a second and she looked at his Camaro. “Oh my God, is that your car? I’m so sorry. I swear I circled the block twice looking for a spot. I knew I’d only be inside for a few minutes. You couldn’t have been waiting long, right?”

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