Page 3 of All Wrong
As Corinne was neither Lacie’s student nor one of her kids, she went with, “None of your beeswax.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. Back off, Lace.”
“But—”
Corinne looked over her sister’s shoulder toward the expanse of open field and spotted the perfect distraction. “Uh-oh. Looks like the game’s over, and your man is looking worse for wear. Is that blood on his face?”
Lacie whipped around, and Corinne took the opportunity to make her escape.
“You can’t run forever,” Lacie called after her.
“Watch me,” Corinne called back.
Instead of going directly to the parking lot, Corinne opted for a last walk through the fairgrounds. Things looked so much better while lit up against the dark sky. The crowd seemed to have doubled since she’d come in. Conversely, the median age of those present had halved. Corinne was hardly old, but she felt positively ancient among the teen-heavy throng.
Which was probably why the tall, athletic guy talking to some high schoolers stood out.
Brett Buckman. Time to go.
She ducked off to the side, taking refuge in the space between an ice cream stand and the church-run pierogi booth. She didn’t know if Brett Buckman knew what she looked like, but she wasn’t taking any chances. The only reason she had recognized him was because Lacie had pulled up his picture on the school website when extolling his many virtues.
Once Brett passed, Corinne succumbed to the aroma of freshly pressed waffles and bought herself an ice cream sandwich. She’d just taken the first orgasmic bite when she saw a familiar figure up ahead. Nick was in the shadows, in the space between where the fair began and the lot beyond, talking to a couple of kids. Kids she recognized from The Zone, the teen center where she volunteered two nights a week.
They looked deep in conversation. Corinne would have to walk right past them to get to her car. She hung back instead, using the opportunity to eat more of her waffle and ice cream sandwich before it melted in the sultry summer night heat.
The light breeze changed direction, and on it, Nick’s voice, low and urgent, reached her ears. Thekids answered, but they were too far away for her to make out what they were saying.
Nick put out his hand in demand, and one of the kids placed something into it.
Brimming with curiosity, Corinne dropped the remains of her waffle sandwich in the nearest trash receptacle and moved closer. She kept to the patches of darkness, made darker by the bright lights, her footsteps silent in the trampled grass, until she reached one of the big maples separating the fairgrounds from the parking area.
That was when things went to hell.
“Police. Don’t move.” A pair of cops moved in from the lot toward Nick and the boys.
“Get out of here,” Nick hissed to the kids. “Now.”
The kids didn’t have to be told twice. They beat feet, disappearing into the woods. One of the two cops ran after them, but he had little to no chance of catching them. The teens were young and fast, and the cop looked like he’d been taking advantage of thecops eat for freedeal most of the local businesses had.
The bright beam of the other cop’s flashlight lit up Nick’s face.
He squinted against it and put up a hand. “Point that thing somewhere else, will you?”
“Milligan. I should’ve known,” the cop said with derision. “Selling drugs to kids, huh, Nick? Pretty low, even for a scumbag like you.”
Corinne clamped her lips together to keep the gasp from escaping. Nick dealing drugs to kids? Not a chance in hell.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about, Torres.”
“That’s Officer Torres to you. Empty your pockets.”
Nick sighed and did as commanded.
“Must’ve sold out, huh? Turn around. You know the drill.”
Nick obeyed the command without argument, putting both hands behind his back. His face was expressionless. Unconcerned. Almost bored. The cop put cuffs around his wrists, then kicked Nick’s feet wider and made a show of patting him down.
