Page 77 of Hot Cops

“I’m going to kill that son of a bitch,” Bubbles declared menacingly.

Finn and Landon said in unison, “Get in line.”

“This isn’t really Derek’s fault. I should have found a café and called an Uber. Instead, I was pissed off and started walking, even though it was getting dark. It was a really stupid thing to do.”

“Damn right it was. Child, your mother and me did not raise you to act like a damn fool,” Bubbles said.

Sunnie laughed. She adored her “aunt” Bubbles. Loved the woman’s straight-shooting ways, her foul language and her extremely inappropriate stories about when she was a ’ho back in Vegas.

Mom shook her head. “Don’t take up for the man, Sunnie. A nice guy would have driven you home no matter what. I think Bubbles and I might pay him a visit and educate him about that.”

Sunnie suspected Derek might prefer an ass-whooping from Finn and Landon over a tongue-lashing from Bubbles and Mom, but she didn’t bother to try to talk her mom out of it. It would be a pointless battle to wage. Riley Young protected her children more fiercely than a lioness. She’d give Derek a piece of her mind, no matter what Sunnie said.

“I’m fine,” Sunnie stressed. “Honest.” Then she looked at Landon, anxious for a chance to escape them. “Finn said you’re supposed to take my statement.”

He nodded.

“Not yet,” Mom said. “There’s someone else waiting to talk to you.”

“Who?”

Mom pointed down. “Pop’s in the pub. He’s fretting and won’t feel a moment’s peace until he sees you. Go talk to him.”

Sunnie wasted no time, racing back to her room to don a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. She threw her hair up in a ponytail, thinking it was good enough. Then she glanced in the mirror—and spotted the baseball-sized bruise on her cheek.

There was no way she’d let Pop Pop see that.

Grabbing some foundation and powder, she did her best to conceal it, then headed downstairs.

Pop Pop was sitting at his usual place at the bar. It was lunchtime, so there weren’t more than a dozen or so folks scattered around the pub, grabbing an early afternoon drink. Sunday’s Side, the restaurant, was busier with the lunch rush.

He smiled when he saw her, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes. She walked straight into his outstretched arms.

“I’m okay, Pop Pop,” she whispered to her beloved grandfather.

“Lie to the others all you want, lass. But you don’t have to say those words on my account. I know you’re not. Just sit here and stop pretending so hard.”

“You’re not going to yell at me too?” she asked.

Pop Pop shook his head. “I suspect Aaron, Finn, and Landon have handled that well enough.”

She giggled. “You forgot Mom and Bubbles.”

“So we’ll skip the lecture and move on to the feelings. How are you feeling?”

“I…” She wasn’t sure what to say. When the guy first grabbed for her purse, she was furious at Derek, pissed beyond belief and, honestly, sort of looking for a fight. She’d spun around swinging, taking the guy by surprise—for a split second. They’d both kept hold of the purse strap, doing some silly tug-of-war over it for a few seconds before he swung at her, the back of his closed hand striking her cheek with enough force that she saw stars.

And yet she still wouldn’t let go of the purse. She had no idea what the guy would have done next because that was when Landon showed up, the police lights scaring the guy off. He’d let go of the bag, shoving her down as he took off in the opposite direction. Off-balance, she’d twisted her ankle on the way down.

At least she’d been right about one thing last night. Her ankle was much better this morning, stiff but not sore.

“You what?” Pop Pop prompted when she didn’t respond right away, reclaiming his seat and patting the one next to him.

She shrugged as she sat down.

“Should I take a stab at it?” he asked.

She smiled and nodded.

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