Page 46 of Hide From Me

Do I feelguilty? Not at all. She won’t find out, and even if she did, what would she do? Yell at me? That’d just be foreplay.

I glance up just in time to see her stand while Dale follows her like a pathetic puppy. Ducking my head, I slip behind a group of drunk girls to stay out of sight. My patience is already thin, but I force myself to wait just a few more seconds.

Still, my jaw tightens. What if he touches her? What if he tries to kiss her?

No. Not tonight. Not ever.

I can’t even begin to describe how quickly I fly out of the bar. My head is on a swivel, scanning like a madman for any sign of her—or him—or any indication that she didn’t leave with him.

Then I hear it. A yell. It’s loud enough that my heart slams against my ribs and plummets into my gut. I can’t tell if it’s a man or a woman, but I don’t need to know. If something has happened, if she’s hurt—I’ll never forgive myself.

I sprint toward the sound, rounding my car, only to duck back down the instant I see Dale stumbling backward from Raylen, his hand pressed to his face.

His nose is gushing blood. She’s scrambling into her car as if her life depends on it.

That’s not playful. She hit him—hard. And Raylen… she’s never once hit me like that. She holds back, even when she wants to hurt me. Which means…

I'll fucking kill him.

I shake my head, trying to quiet the devil on my shoulder so I can think clearly.

No. No—breathe. Be smart about this, Moe. You can’t just walk up and put a bullet in his skull.You need a reason, a cover, a distraction.

My fingers twitch against the trunk of my car as I glance around, my heart racing and my vision narrowing. I'd love to run him over, but that’s no longer an option—Bill, the chief of police, is already patrolling the lot. His flashlight cuts through the shadows like a blade. That scream probably drew him inalready.

Wait… I can make this work. Before my better judgment takes over, I slip my sidearm from my waistband and fire a single shot toward the police ranger. It's just a warning shot, a spark—enough to throw smoke over the scene. I’d never hurt Bill; he’s a teddy bear with a badge—but I’ll be damned if I let this bastard walk free.

Bill spins around, his gun half-drawn and his flashlight swinging wildly. I take off at full sprint, racing around two cars straight into Dale. We crash to the ground, and I feel his ribs cave under my weight.

“You okay?” I shout, trying to sound like just another concerned citizen.

“You spoiled little prick!” he bellows, stomping toward us like a pissed-off bull. “I knew you were trying to kill me! Ever since I started your case, you’ve been after my arse!”

I grab the back of Dale’s neck and shove him face-first into the gravel. My knee drops between his shoulder blades, pinning him.

“His case?” I echo, glancing at Bill.

“Fired days ago,” Bill mutters. “Firing a weapon with intent to kill. Piece of shit’s lucky we didn’t lock him up already.”

Dale grunts, his voice muffled by the dirt. “It was a misfire—”

“Tell it to the judge,” Bill snaps.

“Or…” I smile as I search through Dale’s pockets, and soon I find the handcuffs, his badge, a taser—everything. Fired and still armed, this jerk was hunting.

“I can take him in. We can figure out what else he’s been doing. I know you guys had drugs going missing—”

Bill sighs as I cuff Dale, fatigue radiating from him. “Forged reports, complaints from women on the force—the list goes on, Moe. I’ve just been waiting for something to stick.”

“Then let me help you get it,” I say, yanking Dale upright. He squirms, limp like a drunk. Pathetic.

Bill places a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Onefavor?”

“Name it.”

“Let Sam do the interrogating.”

That makes me pause. Sam has a history with Dale—an ugly history. Dale crossed a line, and Sam didn’t push back because of protocol. But I’ve seen what Sam can do when he's given permission.

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