“Your son is a piece of shit just like you.” I spit in his face. “Whatever she claimed happened did and you know it.”
He swipes off the saliva with the back of his hand. “Justice is always served. I see to that.”
“I think they call this sadism, not justice, dickhead. You and your son are mean sons of bitches. You don’t deserve that badge. And if you keep pushing, I’m going to push right back. Do not fucking test me.”
Rage burns hot in his eyes. “Are you threatening me?”
“You better fucking believe it I am.”
“Why are you into the bitch? She almost killed your best friend. Where’s your loyalty?”
“Char’s a Hoodlum,” I tell him through clenched teeth. “We protect our own.”
A vein bulges in his forehead. “That little girl isn’t a thug like you and your friends. She’s a lying bitch who wants to ruin my son. Eventually she’ll try to ruin you too. She already did with Terrence.”
If he were close enough, I’d headbutt the shit out of him.
“You must be fucking her,” he says, scowling. “She sure moved on from Ryan quickly. Is that why you assaulted my son?”
“Assault? I call it a good old-fashioned Hoodlum warning.” I grin at him. “Does it hurt when he pisses?”
A line forms between his brows. Confusion.
“Ask him about his little pecker, Daddy,” I taunt. “Maybe that’s the reason Charlotte’s with me and not him. Because his tiny dick doesn’t do shit for her.”
“Shut the fuck up, Hutton,” Cuntingham barks.
“When I make her scream, it’s because she likes it. Because my dick destroys her in the best possible way. Your son came up short. I wonder if that sort of thing is genetic.”
I love that his face turns purple like it might explode.
“Ask Ryan about his dick,” I urge, a maniacal grin on my face. “I bet he wishes his dick were like mine. Probably even named that poor little worm Cal.” I shrug. “I mean, can you blame him?”
Cuntingham kicks me hard in the stomach, knocking the air out of me and sending me rolling. Between sucking in air, I howl in laughter. Ryan is going to flip his shit when his dad asks him about his dick. They’re both too proud to put that in any police report. They’ll just try to get even their way. Dirty and beneath the radar. Unlucky for them, I’m a motherfucking Hoodlum and that’s the only way I play.
Charlotte
“Shit,” Winslow curses when Michael kicks Cal in the stomach.
“He can’t do that,” I snap. “Are you going to do something?”
He looks down at his feet, ignoring the other cop. I take off toward Cal, like I’m going to be able to assist, but Winslow snags my bicep. My phone nearly drops to the asphalt at my feet, but I manage to keep hold of it. Dad hasn’t said much in the past couple of minutes. I soon realize why.
“You have to the count of three to take your hands off my child before I make it my fucking job to destroy your career,” Dad snarls from the front of Cal’s truck.
Winslow drops his hold on my arm.
“Dad!” I cry out his name, running over to him.
He pulls me in for a hug, his body tight with fury. I keep the tears at bay. Dad’s here. Dad will fix this. He’ll take care of us.
“What is Cal being arrested for?” Dad asks, his voice icy and cutting the air like a blade.
“I, uh, for…” Winslow stutters over his words. Dad has that affect over people when he’s in king of the town mode. Right now, he’s bursting with power and he wants to use it against anyone who’s tried to hurt me.
“I suggest you go sort it out with the other officer and make a decision one way or the other. You either put him in the back of your squad car and book him, or you release him.” Dad’s voice brooks no room for argument. “Now, Winslow.”
I pull away to see Winslow obeying Dad’s order. He walks over to Michael. We can’t hear what they’re saying from here, but Michael is visibly enraged. His shoulders move as he breathes heavily and his face is beet-red.
“Dad,” I whimper.
“Shh,” he murmurs, stroking my hair. “Don’t say a word, sweetheart.”
I nod against him, inhaling his familiar scent. Today he’s dressed in a crisp, button-down white shirt, navy tie, and dark slacks, so he must have left from his office.
Michael doesn’t come over to us. Instead, he leaves Winslow and Cal, storming to his squad car. He peels out, tires screeching loudly. Winslow helps Cal to his feet and removes the cuffs. I feel like I can breathe again.
Cal remains near Winslow’s squad car as he hands him back his paperwork and ID. Then, he writes him a ticket. As soon as he passes it to Cal, he hurries to his squad car and bails.
The storm that is Cal charges our way, his green eyes blazing with emotion. Worry. Anger. Disgust. At first, I think they’re all directed at me, but then when he is close enough, he grabs my hand, tugging me to him. His dress shirt is filthy, but I don’t care, I hug him tight, silently thanking him for thinking fast in getting Dad here.
“Bonnie canceled my patients for the rest of the day,” Dad says. “Come by the loft so we can talk.”
He doesn’t wait for me, just turns and heads back to his black BMW, surprising the hell out of me. Cal must be giving off some serious protective vibes. As soon as Dad drives off, I tilt my head up to look at Cal. His chin is scratched and bleeding. Green eyes dart all over my face as he assesses me for damage. Aside from the tears, I’m fine.
“Did he hurt you?” His soft voice trembles with barely contained rage.
“No,” I choke out. “He just scared me.”
When his hand went around my throat and he’d spat out
