Chapter 8

The One Where He Makes A New Enemy

NATE

As I round the corner, I take a look in my rear-view mirror. It doesn’t take twenty seconds before that old looking Buick does the same and keeps its distance.

Whoever it is—likely a cop—isn’t very successful at being incognito. That, and they obviously don’t know the first rule of tailing someone: don’t be spotted.

The car’s been tailing me all afternoon. They followed me to the garage, and then on my way to meet with Nate, and they’ve been on my ass since leaving his place.

I can see a deserted parking lot about a mile up and so once I near it, my wheel quickly turns into it. I don’t use a signal and erratically stop in the dead centre as I wait to confront the person who’s suddenly so interested in my daily activities.

As I’m getting out of my Skyline, that same so-called incognito cop car does the same. He probably didn’t realize I would stop in the middle of a barren lot, and the panic reads on his face when he spots me standing up against my car.

It takes him a while to get out of the vehicle, but when he does, his hands are set on his hips as a warning that he carries not only a gun but also a taser that could incapacitate me in a matter of seconds. He chews his gum with his mouth wide-fucking-open while teetering his dark sunglasses to observe me.

“Why the fuck you followin’ me?”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” the officer begins, “I’m Lieutenant Sanders.”

I don’t say a single word. You must definitely choose your words carefully when speaking to a man of the law. One wrong word—one little slip up—and they’ve got you. I’ve learned to be rather tight-lipped after a few police officers in the past used things I’ve said against me.

“Not one for introductions, or what?” He inquires and when I don’t answer, he just nods his head while staring off into the distance.

I notice he holds a manila folder in his hands. It causes my curiosity to peak. What could possibly be in there? I mean, obviously there’s some sort of paper in there, but what does that paper hold?

Is it papers about me and who I am? Is it photos that have caught me in a sticky situation? What the fuck does he have in there that he can hold over me? It’s obviously enough that it’s caused him to leave his desk in his office and wander out to find and approach me. Considering the smug look on his face it must be good.

He slowly licks his lips and then brings the folder up. I watch as he smirks to himself before opening it. A hand reaches inside, and he seems to glance over a few papers before he finds the one he wants. When he yanks it out of the envelope, he scans over it and clicks his tongue while a smile stretches across his face.

Without saying a word, he tosses the paper down on the hood of my car. When I look down at it, I realize it’s a photo. In particular, it’s a photograph of my Skyline. Arielle is on her back where she rests on the hood of my car while I hover over her, pinning her hands against the hot metal. This was taken after Arielle slapped me and I backed her up until she arched against my car.

So, he’s been watching me. Or rather, he’s been watching us, and it appears as if it’s been quite some time.

If he is in fact watching us, I need to warn her. She deserves the heads up so that it helps possibly keep her out of jail. I’m sure she can handle herself, but at the same time, I believe she should get that warning.

My jaw clenches and I don’t tear my eyes away from the photo as I growl, “What the fuck is this?”

“Just a warning,” he torments. The Lieutenant rests a hand on his police belt again. It’s an attempt to intimidate me, but it doesn’t work.

Instead, it makes me scoff and run a hand along my beard as I toss the photo to the ground. “If you’re gonna’ do shit like this, at least don’t come with empty threats.”

“What? You think photos are empty threats?” He humourlessly chuckles. “That’s evidence, you egotistical prick. I have surveillance footage that is sufficient enough to put you behind bars right now.”

I step forward, extending my hands with my wrists together. “Then do it,” I challenge, wrists side by side as if they were cuffed. “Fucking do it. Put me in handcuffs.”

He sucks his lower lip into his mouth in thought, as a dry laugh leaves him. “That just takes all the fun out of it, doesn’t it? It’s much more entertaining to corner you fuckers and see how you react.”