Page 56 of Broken Rules
He lifted his shoulders. “My job comes with some pretty great perks.”
She leaned forward. “You’re such an asshole,” she hissed.
A cocky smile curved his lips. “Don’t think about telling anyone, or else your own seedy truth will come out.”
She froze. “What are you talking about?”
He reached across the table and slowly trailed his fingers down her arm. “I saw the man in the mask. I didn’t know you were so kinky. Listen, if BDSM is your thing, then I’m your man. I’ll tie you up—”
She jerked her arm away. “You really are a pig.”
Suddenly, sirens blasted. Joe turned away from her to look out the window. Colorful flashes of blue and red could be seen over the balcony. “What the fuck is going on?” he blurted, coming to his feet. Then he crossed to the balcony door and stepped outside.
Savannah sat in her seat, frozen, her heart pounding while sirens blared.
Joe barreled back into the restaurant. “Every cop in Rye is pulling up to my fucking house. Fire engines, too.” He sped across the room and disappeared down the stairs.
Coming to her senses, she leapt to her feet and rushed after Joe, following him out the back door.
When she glimpsed the scene at Joe’s house her heart sank. “Oh God!”
Police cruisers filled Joe’s driveway and the surrounding yard. Officers in SWAT gear circled the perimeter. Despite the late hour, the spot lights aimed at the house were so bright, it looked like midday.
Gun shots rang out from somewhere inside. “No,” she screamed. On tremulous legs, she stumbled after Joe as he raced through the sand.
“Hold right there,” a cop said, blocking Joe before he could cross into his yard. She came to a stop behind him.
Joe pointed to his palace on posts. “That’s my house!”
The cop mumbled something into the dispatch radio on his vest.
“Wait here.”
Savannah could barely draw breath. “Please, no,” she whispered, her eyes glazed over with tears as she scanned the windows for a glimpse of Damien. There was no way he could have made it past so many officers. Was he still inside? Did they have him on his knees with guns aimed at his head? She looked at the many cruisers dotting the road and yard. Was he inside one of the cars in handcuffs? Could he see her?
She swallowed hard as the unthinkable question came to her mind. Was he still alive?
Joe turned to her. “Savannah, what the hell is going on?”
“I...I don’t know,” she stammered.
Just then the lean silhouette of a man started walking toward them. The harsh light from the police car headlights behind him obscured his face. He moved in a familiar, effortless way.
Her heart lifted. “Damien,” she whispered and started forward but the officer next to her grabbed her arm. “Stay where you are, miss.”
Heart pounding, she nodded and held her breath, watching the approaching figure. But then the police car backed up, shifting the light and the person’s lesser height and thicker waist came into view, and her mouth dropped open.
“Holy shit,” she blurted.
“Hi Savannah.” Skeevy Stevie stood in front of her, but he looked different. His hair was no longer plastered to one side. It was loose and softly curled. His thick, plastic frames were gone. An edgy, vintage pair of wire rims were in their stead. He was almost good looking and in no way skeevy.
Steve thrust his hand out toward Joe. “Detective Edward Hastings. I’m in charge here. You’ll need to come with me.” Then the former Skeevy Stevie turned to her. “Savannah, you need to head back to the restaurant.”
She shook her head, desperate. “No, I can’t.”
Joe turned to her. “I appreciate you coming out here with me, but I need you back there. You have to close up.”
Her stomach twisted. Her eyes darted everywhere, hoping for just one glimpse of Damien.
