Page 241 of Off Limits: The Firsts

“Em—”

“I hate you. I never want to see you again.” She mouths the words and walks out the door.

“10-4, Officer Malone.”

Her voice, smooth as goddamn silk and full of suggestion comes through the radio. I’m ready for the ration of shit from Nate when I turn his way. His grin is wide as he just shakes his head and chuckles.

“10-4, Officer Malone,” he mimics. “Can I give you a side of blow job with that all clear?”

“Fuck off.” I sigh.

“Dude, if she talked to all of us like that, the whole force would be walking around with permanent hard-ons.”

“Liv does have a great voice,” I murmur as a cheer goes up in the crowd to the left of us, drawing my attention. Drunken guys in board shorts, who are all sporting fraternity tattoos, are taking note of a group of tipsy girls with a skin-to-clothing ratio that should be illegal.

“A great voice. Yeah. Right. I’m sure that was exactly what you were focusing on . . . because hell if that body of hers isn’t a fifteen on a scale of one to ten.”

“I’d give it a twenty.” I shrug, remembering all too well what she looked like as she straddled me. Goddamn perfection. “You’re just a jealous fucker because I won’t give you any details.”

“You won’t give me anything, Malone. For all I know, you’re full of shit,” he says as he adjusts his bulletproof vest beneath his uniform, both of us constantly scanning the crowd.

“We both know I’m not full of shit.”

“Asshole,” he mutters under his breath, and I chuckle in response. This is the same conversation we seem to have every time Liv and I interact on the radio.

“I think the hotline tip was wrong. I don’t see any of Donnely’s gang here.”

“Neither do I. Just a whole lotta hot women in teeny, tiny bikinis, and I’m not complaining one bit.”

“Pig.”

“Well.” He shrugs as he points to his uniform.

“Clever.”

“Exactly. I’m the smart one. You’re not, considering you’re the one who walked away from Liv. Just one question, though, why exactly?”

“Too many women, too little time.” I lift my eyebrows and grin. “To your right,” I say with a subtle lift of my chin as a shoving match erupts between two men outside Hooligan’s Bar. Alcohol. Testosterone. All day in the sun. Women to compete over for attention. It’s never a good mix.

We shift our attention and assess the situation. Friends take care of it, pulling the men apart before it escalates. “Gotta love the annual Fourth of July pub crawl.”

“It keeps us busy, doesn’t it? Besides,” I say as I glance at my watch, “we have about three more hours on shift in case you want to join them.”

“No thanks. Give me a beer in my backyard with the fireworks overhead and I’m good. While the women are nice to look at here, I don’t need the chaos of it. We get enough of that on shift.” We glance to the left as a woman screams, but then it turns to a high screech of laughter. “You heading over to your dad’s?”

“Yeah. Gray and Grady will be there. You’re welcome to come if you want.”

“Help me, please,” sounds off to my left and grabs my attention immediately. It’s followed by what sounds like a laugh but is drowned out by the chaos of the crowded street. Hesitant that someone might actually need assistance, Nate and I move toward a group of women in a huddle about fifty feet away.

“Can we help you ladies with anything?” I say and remove my sunglasses as we approach to a hum of giggles.

“My friend here needs help, Officer Sexy,” the tallest of the women says, a brunette with a coy smile and legs for days. “She has a real thing for a man in uniform.”

Nate snickers beside me as my sense of duty fades when I realize there is no need for help. These are just some women out to have a bit of fun. I stop before them, my thumbs hooked in my duty belt, and pretend like I didn’t hear the comment that I sure as hell did. “So, everything is good here, then?”

“That depends,” says a voice of the only woman whose back is still to me, “if you’re going to give me mouth to mouth and resuscitate me . . .” her voice fades off when our eyes meet.

Holy mother fucking shit. It can’t be her.