Page 16 of Bred By The Deputy
“On my way.”
Slamming the cruiser into gear, I peel from the curb, hands shaking on the wheel as my foot punches the gas. Mrs. Murphy can holler at me later. I need to get there. I need to find out why she was even there. I told her I would be home tonight. That I would get back to her as soon as I could.
If something happens to her…no. No, nothing will happen. I will not let it happen. Nothing will ever hurt her again. Not on my watch. Pain pricks my eyes as I round the corner to the station, seeing her unmistakable pink Porsche parked at the curb.
Throwing the door open, I race inside, hoping to find her there. Hoping this was some terrible joke. Maybe Mackenzie is still pissed at me. Once I see her face, I know it is no joke. No, she is not pissed at me, but sheisupset. Mackenzie looks downright enraged.
“I told her you would be here,” she accuses, voice shaking. “I saw that Bentley then she was gone. I said you’d be here.”
“Did she say something before she left? Where she was going? If someone had showed up at our place?”
Rushing to my desk, I pull open the top drawer. With a trembling breath, I pull out the wooden box there, flipping open the lid. I always carry a weapon, of course, but this one is not duty-issued. This is my own. One I got from Hawk a few days after my call with Panic.
“No, no, she was happier than ever. Smiling. We were going to eat cinnamon buns and gossip about you. Left that basket for you.”
Grabbing the gun, I pull the clip to make sure it is loaded, then pull the slide. My hands tighten on the grip as I tuck it in the back of my belt, glancing absently at whatever Mackenzie mentioned Della leaving earlier. I almost hit the floor once I finally see the basket.
A basket full of bread—or, rather, buns—because...she is pregnant. I joked about her baking my baby batter to put a bun in her oven. Oh, God. My girl is pregnant. I ought to be overjoyed. I am—of course I am. I am more terrified than I was a few minutes ago. I am petrified.
“Tell Watt not to send someone after me. Unless I call myself.”
“Jesus, Dole, be careful. Go get your girl.”
Nodding, I rush out of the station, pulling my uniform shirt off as I go. Passing the cruiser, I toss it and my utility belt in and head for the Porsche. Della always leaves her keys in the touch-button car, knowing full well no one in Driftwood Peaks would be dumb enough to steal a pink Porsche they know belongs to a Deputy Sherriff’s woman.
Pushing the button to start the car, I squeal the tires, making a mental promise to her for new ones. Speeding past thestation, I head down Main Street, headed for one place. Stopping outside The Rusty Nail, I hop out of the car to head inside. Inside, I pull out my phone, pulling up the app that will track where my girl is, one she has no idea I put on her phone.
“Panic,” I call as I step into the darkness, seeing the crowd of Disciples at the back of the bar. “I need that favor, man.”
Panic stands, his towering, bulky frame taking up all the air in the room. Two even larger, scarier-looking men flank him, moving when she jerks a chin at them. Crossing the room towards me, he claps me on the shoulder, turning me to follow me outside. I wondered how I would feel if this moment came. Now that it is here, all I feel is a mix of rage and fear.
“Gatlin and Crush will hit the ins and outs of town. No one will come or go without them allowing it. You and I will find them. Bruiser will wait in the wings if we need some…assistance.”
Outside he hops on his motorcycle, and I climb back in the Porsche. Together we pull from the bar, and I follow him through the streets of Driftwood. We weave through what little traffic there is until we reach the outskirts of town. I see Crush, the tallest, most tattooed of the bunch, parked, smoking a cigar as he stands propped against his bike.
Stopping behind Panic as he idles his bike, I jump out of the car. As I approach the two men, I hear Crush give out a chuckle. Just a laugh. It is the coldest, darkest laugh I have ever heard. Reminds me I am dealing with very dangerous men. For a moment, I hesitate…and then a vision of my girl, my pregnant girl, being hurt or worse kills any hesitation.
“He’s been spotted,” Panic comes to update me. “Pretty stupid coming to Driftwood in a fucking Bentley. We got a tail on him, they will follow him to the north side of town. He won’t get out of town, Deputy.”
“What do we do now?”
Panic grins, a shocking slash on his face. “We go say hello.”
There is a lethal undertone to his voice, and it should bother me. It ought to have my cop senses tingling. Why does it set me at ease? It leaves no doubt that whatever we’re facing, I chose the right people to face it with me. He teased me about calling a favor back in one day, but if his crew helps me keep the woman I love safe, I will owe him more than one.
“Let’s go meet this fucker,” I mutter without any more hesitation.
Climbing back into the Porsche, I nod at him, and both men turn around, waving me to follow. We break the speed limit but since I am the officer on duty, I guess it doesn’t matter, does it? In no time we are closing in on the north edge of town, my hands shaking, my heart thundering and my stomach twisting.
Need to get to her, to protect her like I promised.
Seeing lights up ahead in the darkness, I take a shaking breath. Half a dozen bikes surround the obnoxious Bentley. Some of the men have weapons drawn and it's then I spot a man kneeling in front of the car. I smile. I actuallysmilebecause I know without having to ask that this man is Mateo Acosta. A man dumb enough to come to a small town where men kill for what they love.
Leaping from the car, I run towards the Bentley, my heart in my throat. A flash of gold catches my eyes. Golden curls. My sweet girl. I rush to the backseat where she sits, hands trembling as one covers her belly protectively, the other pressed over her heart.
“Della, darlin’, I’m here,” I whisper gently moving slowly.
Green eyes track up slowly, from my boots to my chest where my badge should be, up, all the way up to my eyes. There is a moment of recognition, of relief. Then she smiles. Tears slip from her eyes, but she smiles as I drop to my knees, winding both my arms around her.
