Page 133 of Wild Card
I grinned as I handed it to Chloe. “How would you like to help me arrest the sheriff’s son?”
Her eyes went wide. “It would be an honor, Sheriff.”
“Let’s go, then. Ava, keep me apprised of anything urgent.”
“Will do.”
I tossed the keys to Chloe. “You drive. I need to tell my boyfriend I’m the sheriff.”
“Holy cow, you’re the sheriff!” she crowed. “We need to celebrate.”
“Trust me, finally nailing Dallas is all the celebration I need.”
She laughed as she climbed into the patrol car. I buckled up and called Axel while she drove. I’d had enough texting bullshit.
It rang three times, four times. Clicked over to voicemail.
“You know what to do,” Axel said on the recording.
Beep.
“Damn it,” I muttered.
The call would have to wait. I didn’t intend to give Axel the news on a voicemail or a text. We’d haul in Dallas and get him processed, andthenI’d see Axel and give him the news—even if I had to cuff him to the bed to make it happen.
CHAPTER 32
Axel
My heart skipped nervouslyas I pulled into Ball Breakers to meet Dalton for dinner. Half of me wanted to avoid him, just in case my brothers were wrong and he really wanted to wash his hands of his inconvenient boyfriend. The other half of me missed him like crazy, even though we’d only really gone a day without seeing each other.
Apparently, a day was too much, and how fucking attached had I gotten? Jesus Christ, all that work to prove I didn’t need anyone—even my brothers—right down the toilet. I was clingier than ever.
I swiped sweaty palms against my jean-clad thighs and got out of the car. I’d arrived early so I’d have time to down a couple of beers before Dalton arrived. I was going to need the liquid courage because I really didn’t know if I should tell him to cut me loose or beg him to never leave.
My brothers had kept me busy since my meltdown the other night, suckering me into a movie night and making my childhood favorite, mac-and-cheese with hot dog bits. Mom hadalways used it to soothe me as a kid. They’d loaded me down with extra work orders for the junkyard too.
They meant well, but I was suffocating under their eagle-eyed attention. They were afraid I’d go off half-cocked and fuck up shit, the way I always had before. I couldn’t blame them. A few months ago, I would have handled this whole situation by going out and getting drunk. Then I would have fought or fucked myself into oblivion. Anything to combat the panic clawing at my insides, that feeling that I would never be good enough, worthy enough for someone to stay.
There was a tiny voice in my head that kept whispering that Dalton wasn’t like my parents. That he wouldn’t hurt me. That voice had lied to me before, and I wasn’t sure I could trust it, but it was enough to make me wait.
Dalton and I would talk, and then if he left, I’d lose my shit in epic fashion.
The pool hall was starting to fill up, but it was still early by bar standards, so there were plenty of seats at the bar. I grabbed a stool and nodded at the bartender.
Leo reached for the bottle of tequila.
“Just a beer,” I said.
I wanted to take the edge off, not get sloppy drunk. He put the bottle down with an obvious look of relief and pulled me the cheapest beer on tap. He knew me well. I tossed a five-dollar bill on the bar top and took a big swig. Grimaced. The beer was shitty, but I’d expected that already.
I downed half of it to steady my nerves, then about jumped out of my skin when a heavy hand landed on my shoulder.
For a split second, I thought Dalton had arrived early. My heart leapt, relief surging. Then I turned my head. Fucking Jett leaned in close, that sharklike grin on his face.
“Just the man I wanted to see.”
Fuck me. I didn’t want to deal with him today. “Kinda meeting someone soon.”
