Page 84 of Follow Me Down

Chapter Twenty-one

Fallon

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“So, ten out of ten?” Titus squeezes my hand, my head on his shoulder as I sit in the middle of the bench seat.

After the amazing sex we just had, the thought of having even six inches between us felt like too much. I want to be near him. I always do.

“Ten out of ten.” I smile lazily, nuzzling my face on his bicep. “Best night ever.”

“Best ever?” I feel his head shift to look down at me, but I don’t look up to meet his gaze.

“Best ever,” I confirm.

We drive for several minutes in comfortable silence, the feeling of the warm summer night air blowing through the windows enough to nearly lull me to sleep.

We’ve just turned down the road where the cabin is when flashing lights catch my eye. I sit up, realizing that they’re coming from the rearview mirror.

“Um, Titus.” I turn my head to see not one but two police vehicles directly behind us, lights flashing.

“I see them,” he says, completely at ease. He slows the truck, pulling it off the side of the road less than a mile from the cabin.

“Why are they pulling us over?” I ask, straightening my posture.

“No idea. I probably have a taillight out or something.” He shrugs, shoving the truck into park. “Good evening, officer. What seems to be the problem?” he asks when a middle aged, dark haired police officer steps up next to the driver’s side of the truck.

“License and registration please,” the officer requests, his gaze cutting from Titus to me.

“Of course.” Titus leans forward, grabbing the requested documents from his wallet before handing them to the man. “Mind if I ask what this is about?”

The officer takes one look at Titus’ license before taking a full step back.

“I’m going to have to ask you to get out of the truck,” he says, giving Titus enough room to get the door open.

Titus hesitates, confusion tugging at his features.

“Do you mind if I ask why?”

“Just step out of the truck, please,” the officer repeats, his tone firm and harsh.

With no other option, Titus does as the officer asks, throwing the door open seconds before stepping out of the truck.

Another officer appears next to the first, asking Titus to follow him. I watch as the two men head back toward the cruisers, my heart beating a million miles a minute.

“Ma’am, I’m going to need you to step out of the truck as well.” The first officer pulls my attention to him. Swallowing hard, I unlatch my seatbelt and scoot across the driver’s seat as a third officer appears, shining a flashlight into my face as he approaches.

I move to the side, not sure what to say or do when the two officers start searching the truck, the third standing next to his cruiser talking to Titus. They’re far enough away that I can’t hear what’s being said.

I’m frozen in place, scared out of my mind as I watch the officers rifle through the glove box of Titus’ truck, looking underneath and behind the seats before pulling out a black duffle bag from behind the passenger side.

Dropping the bag on the ground, one of the officers unzips it while the other stands above him, flashlight pointed at the bag. When he opens it and pulls out a large zip lock baggie filled with a white powdery substance, revealing several other bags beneath it, I swear the ground beneath me sways.

Drugs?

My mind swirls.

Why would Titus have a bag of drugs in his truck?

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