Page 27 of Bent, Not Broken

She hummed at me and licked her lips, nice and slow and suggestively. It made my stomach twist. Even before Polunin, I wouldn’t have taken what she was offering. I’d never do anything like that on the job, I took my career too seriously. “Unfortunately, Officer, I left it at home. But I can tell you my name and you can look me up, I’m sure.”

“Ma’am, you are required to carry your license with you at all times. Can you explain to me why you don’t have it?”

She shrugged. “I only went out for a leisurely ride.”

“That’s no excuse. I could take you down to the station for this.”

Her attitude changed like the flick of a switch. Eyes narrowing, she snorted. “For not having my license? That’s fucking bullshit.”

“Refusing to furnish a requested document to operate a vehicle is a good excuse,” Paxton snapped from the other side of the bike, his light British accent lilting, the words brash and bold.

She switched her attention to him and laughed. “You cops have a real hard-on for us lately, don’t you? Listen, we’re not the Warriors. We’re not out to get you. Destroy the other fuckers for all we care, but we’ve done nothing wrong.”

I leaned closer and she turned to me. “Now we both know that’s not true, but we pulled you over for speeding, ma’am, and we’ve asked politely for your license, which you have not given us, and then you proceeded to snap at us.”

“I refused to give it to you because I don’t have it.” She straightened, but kept her hands splayed across her helmet, which she’d rested on the fuel tank. “Take me in, because that’s what you really want. You want to shake me down and see what I know. So do it. I won’t give you anything.”

I grinned. “Fine. I’m arresting you for reckless driving. Get off the motorcycle and put your hands behind your back.”

She rolled her eyes at me and slid off the Ducati, keeping her palms pointed toward me until she turned, reaching her arms behind her back so I could handcuff her. “While you’re there, Officer, I have a card in my jacket pocket for my lawyer. Give them a call.”

I gritted my teeth. She was too cocky, and I hated the clubs for this reason. This charge wouldn’t stick, but maybe the detectives could get something out of her. If I called Hanlon as soon as I got back to the station, he could come over and interview her. He’d have to be quick about it. As the plan formed in my mind, I grabbed the card from her pocket, right where she said it would be. The last thing I wanted was to cause more trouble with lawyers like Conrad did with Riggs.

The name on the card flashed me, and I cursed.

Demchenko, Weston, and Polunin. The damned card must be newer than the plaque they had on the building.

Madden Polunin.

Well, fuck. Since when did he represent Harlots, too?

Chapter 8

Madden

Officer Paxton’s shoulders twitched, and I desperately tried to think of another way to push at him, but I had nothing. The bastard was stalling me. He stood there with his snide smile at odds with the friendly crinkles in the corners of his blue eyes, thick biceps crossed over his sculpted chest, and…. Okay, he was nice to look at. But the motherfucker was definitely keeping me away from my client. Besides, he didn’t look as good as Slater, so I was still getting the short end of the stick by having a runner-up cop fucking stalling me. If he wasn’t even going to hang out when I got here, why hadn’t Slater let this one call me instead?

“Ludicrous,” I said to Officer Paxton, inching closer to him. “I know what you’re up to, NGPD blue.” He let me creep into his space. I tapped his forearm with one finger, just to get a feel for him. His pale eyebrow twitched upward and then settled back where it belonged. Okay, so he wasn’t about to deck me. The poke test revealed a lot about people. “You’re keeping me from my client.”

“Nah. She’ll be along shortly.”

Normally I held onto my cool, but ever since I’d woken up this morning, alone, I’d been off. First of all, it always sucked to wake up by yourself after you’ve been fucked—even though I was usually happy enough to see someone’s ass headed out the door after a morning romp. Sleeping next to another warm body was a benefit of sex, maybe one of the best ones; however, I could see the writing on the wall already. I really fucking liked doing all that stuff with Slater, and he wasn’t about anything except drilling me deep with his dick.

Why do I care?

So, my mood had taken a turn for the worse, something I almost never allowed to happen. I refused to be a man who felt bad for any reason. There was a big world out there and plenty of dicks in the sea. I certainly didn’t need to ever feel bad about one.

The thing was, though, that this never happened to me.

Guys almost always wanted more of me, or at the very least they were interested after they found out I was loaded. I hated that. Would I have minded if my family bank accounts kept Slater coming back? The idea that I might not care bugged me. Gritting my teeth, I tried to keep myself focused. I would only fuck up and get Barbara Treme in real trouble if I didn’t stomp thoughts of Slater out of my mind.

Arms crossed, I glared right back at Officer Paxton. His lips quirked. Pointedly, I held up my watch so he could see it, and he sucked in his bottom lip for a second.

“Wow. Nice.”

“What? Oh?” I twisted my wrist so I could see the watch myself, and then urged it rudely close to his face again. “Yeah.” The back of my neck heated and, for once, embarrassment ate at me for blowing money on something so small, especially when I saw he was wearing a Walmart special on his wrist. I lowered my hand and huffed. Sometimes it really sucked that everyone, ever, was taller than me, even my mother. It would be nice to loom for once. “You brought me back here to this room fast, sure, but it’s been twenty-five minutes of me cooling my heels with you. And you’re charming, sweetpants, you really are. I need my client, though. Where is Barbara Treme? This is me officially demanding my client’s presence. Again. For the twenty-third time.”

“She’s being fingerprinted,” he drawled in a smarmy British accent that I might have found endearing under other circumstances. “Told you that.”