Page 11 of One Night Entanglement

"Good," I say, and I mean it. As much as I want to keep her in this bed all day, I know she needs to get back out there. She needs to remember who she is beyond all this fear and hiding. "You belong helping people. Don't let those bastards take that away from you."

She smiles, and it's the first real smile I've seen from her since I've been back. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For pushing me. For not letting me give up." She kisses me again, quick and soft. "For the tires."

I grin. "You're welcome. Though next time, maybe try not to hang up on me."

"Next time, maybe try not to be such a pushy asshole."

"Deal."

We reluctantly untangle ourselves from each other, and I watch as she pads naked to the bathroom, completely unselfconscious in a way that makes my chest tight with emotion. This is how it should be. This is how it always should have been.

Twenty minutes later, I'm dressed in my uniform and kissing her goodbye at the front door like it's the most natural thing in the world. Like we've been doing this for years.

"Be careful today," she says, her hands around my waist.

"Always am," I lie, because being careful has never been one of my strong suits. "You too."

She nods and steps back, wrapping her robe tighter around herself. I force myself to walk to my truck without looking back, even though every instinct I have is screaming at me to stay.

The drive to Bellehaven High takes me past Murphy's Gas Station, and I pull in to grab a coffee and maybe something that passes for breakfast. The place is pretty empty this early in the morning, just me and a couple of delivery drivers getting their day started.

I'm reaching for an energy bar when I hear a voice behind me that makes my blood run cold.

"Well, well. If it isn't Officer Carter."

I turn around to see Jenna Stevens standing by the drink coolers, a smirk on her face that I immediately want to wipe off. Jenna's been trouble since she was a teenager, the kind of girl who thrives on drama and other people's misery. The fact that she's shacked up with Evan Salyers, one of the biggest drug dealers in the county, tells me everything I need to know about how her life's turned out.

"Jenna," I say neutrally, turning back to grab my coffee.

"Heard Cecily's having some car trouble lately," she says, and there's something in her tone that pisses me off.

I set my coffee down and face her fully. "What did you say?"

Her smirk widens. "Just wondering how she liked getting some new tires. Must have been expensive, having to replace them so suddenly and all."

The smartass tone hits me like a punch to the gut, and I have to clench my fists to keep from reaching for my cuffs. "You know something about that?"

"I don't know nothing about nothing," she says with fake nonchalance. "Just seems like a shame, you know? Good tires getting ruined like that. Almost like someone wanted to send a message."

I take a step closer to her. I'm bigger and wearing a uniform that proclaims I'm a law enforcement officer. If she doesn't see authority in that, I'm not sure what will make her realize I'm not the person to fuck with. "Let me be real clear with you, Jenna.I'm a cop, and you're talking about destruction of property. You might want to watch your mouth."

She doesn't back down, which tells me she's either braver or stupider than I gave her credit for. "And you might want to tell your girlfriend to watch her back."

The threat is clear as day, and it takes every ounce of self-control I have not to arrest her on the spot. But Troy's words echo in my head—we need proof, not just suspicions and hearsay.

"That sounds an awful lot like a threat," I say, my voice deadly calm.

"Does it?" She shrugs, obviously not giving a fuck. "I'm just saying, accidents happen. Especially to people who stick their noses where they don't belong."

"Evan's arrest got you upset?" I ask, a smirk crossing my face. "Funny thing about that—trafficking fentanyl and meth carries some serious time. Your boyfriend's looking at fifteen to twenty, easy."

Her mask slips for just a second, and I see the fury underneath. "That bitch had no right?—"

"That nurse," I correct, emphasizing the word, "was doing her job. Protecting patients from pill-seeking addicts who are trying to score drugs to sell on the street. You got a problem with that?"

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