Page 29 of Bent, Not Broken

Nodding, I wondered what it would feel like to care that much about something, as she went off on an epic tale about the first time she rode a motorcycle. She rhapsodized about wheels and chrome and leather seats for nearly the entire three-block walk. I’d half expected a mysterious man in leather to be part of the equation, but no.

“So that was it? Love at first ride?” She nodded and smiled again as we came to a stop in front of Grounds and Gears, a small boutique coffee shop. I’d seen the place before but hadn’t stopped in yet. There were two other shiny motorcycles parked out front on the sidewalk where they shouldn’t be, but I hoped the cops wouldn’t be stupid enough to fuck with the Harlots twice in one day. I didn’t want to see Slater again if I could help it.

“Want to come in for a cup? Cecily makes something called a Wicked Mocha that has bourbon in it.” Barbara patted my shoulder and gave me an encouraging nod, like lawyers weren’t already well-known alcoholics.

“Why not?” Intrigued, I followed her inside. Round tables were scattered throughout a medium-sized room with a matte-gray and stainless-steel color scheme. Lights dangled at intervals from the ceiling in round bloodred glass bulbs, and the air they were suspended in was made of coffee dreams and sugar notes. Photos of motorcycles hung on the walls, and some had men sitting on them; those pictures including people were signed, so I assumed the subjects were famous in the motorcycle world. Barbara went around the counter and straight through a doorway to the back.

“Bye,” I called, and she didn’t stop. Left at loose ends, I ordered a drink from a nervous-looking boy behind the counter with a bright pink faux hawk. Then, I realized maybe they weren’t a boy, exactly, because they were wearing a pin with their preferred pronouns, and they were they/them. Next to that was a name tag with Emmy in bold pink letters. My mind boggled, but I tried to take the info onboard.

“What can I get you?” they asked, their voice a smooth tenor, eyes dancing with terror. I suspected I had a trainee.

“Nothing with booze. Too early. I like chocolate.”

They nodded and went to make me something behind the espresso machine. They’d forgotten to charge me for anything before they started, so I took a twenty out of my wallet and left it on the counter near the register. Once I had my coffee in hand, I sipped. It was good, too hot, and I burned my tongue, but that didn’t mean much to me at the moment. Emmy noticed the money and beamed at me for the first time. I laughed and turned to find a seat.

An unwelcome malaise had crept over me since Slater walked into that interrogation room, and I didn’t have the usual rush that should have accompanied getting someone out of a tight spot with NGPD.

I’d won.

I should be over the moon.

Instead, I was just in a Big Mood and I hated it.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and part of me expected to maybe see Slater’s name on the screen when I took it out to check, but that was stupid because he didn’t have my number. Instead, it was Mom. Rolling my eyes, I answered. She still hadn’t gotten the whole workday/workweek thing, in spite of the fact that my father was a dyed-in-the-wool red-blooded American workaholic from way back.

“Hello.” I tried not to snap at her but failed.

“Brunch, darling.”

“Working.”

“You have to eat. Come home for a few minutes.” There was a tinkling on her end, most likely ice in a glass. “Ronald, skim those out of there. No bugs. None. If I get a bug down my top, I’ll just expire, dear. I’d have to take it off and shake it out. That’s right. Reach way out there. Don’t be afraid to bend over.” I could hear the laughter in her voice and sighed.

“Having fun teasing the pool boy?”

“So much.”

Mom’s concept of time was shaky on a good day, so maybe she hadn’t realized I should be working. I loved her and didn’t want to be mad, so I found myself nodding, even though she couldn’t see me. “All right. Why not? Bye. Kiss, kiss.”

“Lovely!” She hung up, and I texted River that I was taking lunch.

My phone buzzed with a message back from him, probably bitching me out, but I didn’t bother to check it. There were small tables outside the coffee shop on the side not taken up by bikes, so I exited into the warm sun and sat down, plopping my cup on an iron-topped table. I slouched down heavily in a chair and stared at the phone screen, oddly still feeling like shit.

There was only one thing that could be wrong with me. I brought Slater’s name up on my phone. One good thing about them keeping me waiting today, I’d managed to snoop his number from a call-off list the PD shouldn’t have had hanging on a bulletin board in the hallway next to the union fliers. You’d think they wouldn’t have had that near the interrogation rooms. Shaking my head, I snorted on a laugh. I should just break this off. There was no way it was good to keep seeing him. He had a big dick and knew how to swing it, but realistically, what then? I shivered.

And why did I fucking care?

Brow furrowed, I slammed my phone down and drank my way through half of my coffee in about two gulps, which scalded the inside of my mouth and left me more agitated than ever. I did a lot of stupid things. River had warned me. I was going to see Officer Evan Slater all the time, especially now that we were representing the Harlots. There were just too many bikers doing too much illegal shit for me not to be in that police station at least once a week. Closing my eyes, I tipped my face toward the sun.

No one had ever called me stupid to my face before and meant it. Crass. Amoral. Mouthy. Not stupid.

But I already missed Slater a little, was slightly hurt that he hadn’t even growled at me properly or smiled when he saw me, and… fucked-up as they were, I couldn’t have feelings like that about someone. Why couldn’t I just want to fuck my boss like a normal person? River was sexy and fun, and he loved schmoozing with my mother. He would have been perfect. Too bad he was more like an older brother. You just didn’t fuck your brother outside of delightfully bad incest pornos, and my dick agreed. No River boners in sight.

Snorting, I glanced down at my cup. I suspected with River that any attempt at something illicit might have turned into a struggle to be on the bottom, and damn, that would get ugly. Groaning, I decided to do this like pulling a tooth. I held my breath and typed in the words on my phone that I didn’t want to send. Breaking it off would be better than dragging this out until something really awful happened. And besides, the fucker had made me sleep on the couch.

You can go back to banging women now. I’m not seeing you anymore. It was fun, but I’m good.

I sent the text before I allowed myself to take a breath and shivered all over when I dragged air into my lungs. My heart raced like I’d been into someone’s weekend coke stash, and my stomach tossed exactly the same as it had the time I was stuck on the lake in Dad’s yacht during a storm. I waited. Nothing. Nothing happened.