RISEN
“Where’d you go off to last night, asshole?”
Closing the door to my locker, avoiding Riggs, I do my best not to get into a confrontation. “There was a security issue at the back of the hall.”
Aloof and sarcastic, the prick taunts me. “Huh. That’s funny, because the Chief doesn’t see it like that.”
Why? I could understand if something went wrong, it would garner the attention of the captain, but Chief Scott? I didn’t fuck up, so there’s no way there’s an issue.
Turning to Riggs, even though he’s not entitled to my evening’s activities, I find myself intrigued, wanting to find out what he knows. “What the fuck are you talking about, fucknuckle?”
Being his usual cocky self, Riggs pulls the towel from around his waist, rubbing it against his damp hair. “Nothing really, I guess. When I walked by the office this morning, I heard him screaming about some shit that went down last night.”
Watching as Riggs rewraps the towel around his skinny ass, he starts to walk away. I yank at his arm, halting his exit. “What did he say that makes you think something was wrong?”
Shrugging in that way that only the prick does so well, he smirks. “Look, Mason. He was pissed about a story in the paper. He said he wants you to go see him directly.”
He held that info back? Couldn’t he have told me that first? What a fuckstick! He’s such a cocky motherfucker. It makes me want to punch him to a bloody fucking pulp for holding back that the chief wants to see me.
Calmly, I walk toward my locker, ignoring his snideness, trying to keep my cool. “I’ll go see him then, I guess.” Last thing I want is Riggs thinking he got a rise out of me, even though I find it hard to ignore him.
Throwing my running gear in the locker, I grab my shower kit and start toward the showers. There’s no fucking way I’m going to see Chief Scott smelling like a gym bag.
Passing through the communal showers, a few guys say hi, smirking and laughing. One or two of the older guys give me a head nod or a quick greeting as I pass by. We know the one’s closest to the front run cold, and as I make my way down to the end, Trevor’s there, just finishing up.
“Here, take this one. The water pressure and temp are actually good today.”
Stepping past his naked ass, I ignore his junk. “Morning to you too.” Placing my hand in the stream, I test the water. These fucking things are temperamental, and the last thing I need this morning is to get scalded. Slinging my towel over the top, I close the curtain as Trevor’s towelling off. “You hear anything about last night, or see anything in the papers?”
“Nah. I left pretty late last night. Headed straight home and fuckin’ crashed. The dead couldn’t have woken me. Why you ask?”
“Fuckin’ Riggs said something about the chief. There was something in the paper and he’s pissed.”
Checking that the water is warm enough, I step in, letting it cascade over my steamed body. The cold shower last night, the middle of the night, and this morning did nothing to help calm my fucking cock. Fuck. I need to clear her from my mind. Having my dick get hard in a locker room full of men won’t go over well. All I could smell was the raspberry desserts, her vanilla sweet perfume, and whatever it is she showers with. It was driving me fucking nuts, and don’t even get me started on how her green eyes with tears broke me into a million pieces. The strong, independent, fearless rider was a total mess of emotions, and all I could do was hold her. I hope it helped.
Setting her in the car, seeing her curling up in her friend’s lap, I wished it was mine. Not to mention, Trellis. Hopefully, we won’t cross paths anytime soon.
It’s bad enough she’s been on my mind since the day I arrested her. Finding her so weak in my arms, holding her tight like she was mine to hold, her despair crushed me. Watching her break bit by bit on stage, I found myself walking to her like she called me by name. Through the sea of faces, asking me to be there to save her, I moved inch by inch until I was there.
Letting the temperate water course over me, I think about last night. What could’ve ended up in the papers that would have the chief wanting to see me? We did everything we could to make sure that fundraiser went off without a hitch.
Did a slimebag get a picture? When? I was vigilant about checking credentials, making sure only those that were allowed were given access to the Petersen. Did one of the assholes with permission somehow snap a photo of something? Was it just some punk with a camera phone that uploaded it to media? Did they sell it to the papers?
Either way, I’m truly fucked. I always worry about my job. I always worry about my family’s perception of my goodness, and how I can change my fate from what I’d done. Sometimes I think I should just give in and be what I am, instead of what they expect.
Damn, this is dangerous.
When did China Crown become more important than my career?