Page 37 of Clashing
“Scarlett Solis.”
His smile widened as he typed. “Oh, so thereissomeone.”
“It’s nothing. A friend’s niece. I’m doing him a favor.”
As I said the words, I got that feeling—the muscles in my neck tightening. The urge to avoid eye contact. The same sensation I experienced anytime I lied. I hated that feeling. But I wasn’t lying. Itwasnothing. Maybe I half lied because I didn’t intend to share the information with Danny, but I was doing it for Scarlett’s safety, which was technically for Danny.
Yep. That’s all.
Ray swiped his coffee and took a sip. “Do you know a birthdate?”
“No. She used to live in New Mexico, now lives in California.”
He nodded and typed into his computer, then scrunched his face. “Can you give me anything else? Solis is a common last name.”
“I don’t know.” I racked my brain for what her mother’s name was. Danny had said it before. I remembered it being something with aD. “Diana is the mother’s name. I’m pretty sure.”
“That helps.” The keys clicked fast under his fingertips. “I think I’ve got her. A restraining order against a Todd Haverson for . . .” He frowned. “You know what this is for?”
I knew a hell of a lot more than that report said. “Assault and battery, bad enough to put her in the hospital. Should also mention something about him contacting her recently.”
“Right.” Ray nodded. “I do have a note from the parole officer saying he texted her, wrote her a letter, and called her. You planning to do something about this?”
“Don’t worry, Ray.” I patted the countertop. “I’m not making you an accomplice to anything. I only wanted the information. I got some buddies in New Mexico who can keep tabs on him and let me know if he leaves the state. That’s all I want. Fair warning if he tries to come here.”
“In that case, tread carefully. It might be pertinent for you to know he has two registered guns, and this isn’t the only restraining order he has against him.”
Of course it wasn’t. It never was with these kinds of assholes. The guns didn’t scare me. I rarely didn’t have a gun on me, and I was confident after being a Marine for eight years that he couldn’t possibly be a better shot than me.
“Don’t worry, Ray,” I said. “If he comes around, I can handle him.”
Handle him by beating the shit out of him until he doesn’t know his name anymore.
Another officer walked in, and Ray quickly closed out of his window, picking up the conversation about his daughter like we were right in the middle of it. This was why Ray was one of my favorites.
After Conrad finally showed and paid me, I stepped outside and called Dustin, a friend in New Mexico who I’d toured with. He didn’t answer, so I left a message.
I didn’t intend to go to the bar until the weekend. The moment I stepped inside, Scarlett would suck me in. Yet somehow, after the police station, I ended up parked in the familiar dirt lot and cursed myself while I pondered this unrelenting hold she had over me. She had me caught in a lightning storm, too dangerous to stay in but too beautiful to look away from.
She was a bigger pain in my ass than anyone had ever been. That was the only thing different. At least, that’s what I told myself.
The bar door creaked, and I spotted Scarlett sitting alone, drawing. Ignoring her would be the wise thing to do, but noting Danny’s absence, I stopped at her table and grabbed a chair. A loud scrape announced my presence. She looked up. Red stained her cheeks when I settled on the chair.
“Hey.” She caught her lip between her teeth. “It’s not the weekend.”
“Am I only allowed to come on the weekend?”
She scoffed. “Obviously.”
My sarcastic retort never came. My eyes widened at her work. While nails digging into a muscled back wasn’t elaborate, that’s not what reduced me to awed silence.
It didn’t resemble a drawing. The shading and clean lines gave it more of a black-and-white photograph feel. Jaw hanging open, I watched as she made it come more alive with every scrape of her pencil. Part of me wondered if that’s what it looked like when she did that to me while I thrust into her.Shit.Less than five minutes, and I already had to adjust myself.
I scrubbed my hand over my face. “That doesn’t look like a drawing.”
Brows pinched together, she tilted her head.
“I mean, because it’s so good, it looks like a photograph.”
