I stood up and reached for my purse. “What hospital are you taking him to?”
“Mercy,” he answered. “And ma’am, I just want to warn you. Whatever happened to him… it’s bad.”
CHAPTER 8
Never do the same mistake twice. Unless he’s hot.
-Text from Belle to Bruno
BRUNO
My head hurt.
My nostrils hurt.
My dick hurt.
What the hell was going on?
I peeled my eyes open to find myself looking at a room full of cops, Belle at my bedside, and the memory of the last… however long… gone.
“Sir, we need to ask you a few questions,” the cop that was closest said. “Where were you last night from the hours of three in the morning and six?”
“That’s this morning, Officer,” Belle interjected. “Last night would mean anywhere from nine to eleven. Morning is morning. And, if you would’ve asked, I would’ve told you that he was with me. Yet you waited until the doctors forcibly woke him up to ask him?”
“There are children missing, ma’am,” the officer snarled.
That’s when Belle stiffened in her seat.
“My father is an officer.” Belle leaned forward, planting both of her hands on her knees. “My brothers are officers. My uncles are officers. Some of my best friends are officers. And you, might I add, are the absolute definition of an asshole. I know good officers, and you are not one.”
The officer looked a bit stunned, and I felt my heart skip a beat.
“I. Was. With. Him,” she repeated. “There may be children missing, but my fiancé is not involved. Do you understand me?”
Fiancé? What?
The officer looked properly chastised for a few seconds before a look of annoyance rolled over his face.
“Can you explain to me, then, your alibi so that I can put that in my report?” the officer asked sweetly.
If I could lift my hand, I’d punch him in that smart mouth.
Sadly, I wasn’t sure that I could lift a finger, let alone punch a man.
“We were at my house from the time that we left the hospital together—and before you ask, I had a gynecologist appointment. Since I’m uncomfortable with male touch, he accompanied me to help soothe my fears. From there, we had tacos, white queso, and homemade tortilla chips. It’s all currently sitting on my counter still, in case you wanted to know. We got a phone call, which led us to that park. Something about a spotting of my fiancé’s motorcycle that was stolen from my house earlier in the evening.”
“You made a report?” the officer asked her.
Belle rolled her eyes. “We didn’t know it was missing. The only reason we got a call was because the bike is very distinct, and one of our friends in a local MC saw some random male riding it that wasn’t my fiancé.”
Lies.
I knew those to be lies.
My bike was not very distinctive. Though it was old, it wasn’t anything special, and had no identifying characteristics on it that would lead any of my MC to believe that it’d been stolen or to be noticeable at all. That was how I lived—unnoticed.
At least, I did until this particular woman walked into my life.