Page 2 of Road Rage Daddy
He tightens his arms, growling into my ear, “If one of us is going to die, it won’t be because of me. Driving like a lunatic is going to get you killed, and you’re gonna take out half the people on the road with you.”
“I’m sorry,” I repeat over and over, getting quieter each time as the adrenaline from my near-death experience leads to full-body tremors. I think I’m in shock. I nearly crumple to the ground when Emit finally sets me back on my feet.
The cowboy catches me around the waist before dropping me sideways on my driver’s seat. He pinches the stiff material of his jeans so he can crouch, snaps his fingers, then holds his palm up. “Give me your phone.”
I lean away from this new, mean Emit, lifting my legs to swing them into the car. “Why do you want my phone?”
He catches my calves and holds my feet to the ground. “I’m calling your parents. Where is it?”
I know I look young. Iamyoung, but not young enough to still live with my parents, which I couldn’t, even if I wanted to. When Luther moved out, he abandoned me to our shitty parents, who partiedhardwith their creepy “friends” who would stare at me with evil in their eyes. They’ve been in and out of jail on various misdemeanors since I graduated high school, and I have no idea where they are now.
“You can’t call my parents!”
“I sure as shit can. Gonna tell your daddy to come get ahold of his daughter and spank your ass for being so irresponsible.” The fact that he thinks either of my parents would care about my safety is laughable. If Emit is so concerned about me, he would never want to get them involved. “Now, give me your damn phone.”
I hiss through clenched teeth, “I don’t have a phone, Emit! Now, back off!”
He shakes his head. “Bullshit,” he says. “Everyone has a phone nowadays.”
I push his shoulders, fighting to pull my legs out of his tight grasp. “Well, I don’t! I sold it for gas money.”
Emit doesn’t believe me, and his eyes dart over my shoulder. Following his gaze, I find my small purse upended on the passenger side seat, my wallet, lip gloss, and other bits spilled out among the detritus on the floorboard. He pushes me on myback as he leans over me to search for my phone, coming up empty but snagging my sparkly silver wallet.
“Hey! What are you doing? Give that back,” I yell when he snaps it open and searches for my driver’s license.
He shoves my license back inside my wallet, and instead of handing it to me, he pushes it into his back pocket. “Salt Lake City address.” He narrows his eyes. “So that’s where you ran off to. Why Utah?”
“I was looking for a Mrs. Degree,” I blurt, my mouth running away again before my brain can tell it to stop, supremely embarrassed to have spilled my secret.
“What the hell is a ‘Mrs. Degree’?”
“I want a husband. A family,” I yell, tears gathering in my eyes with humiliation. “I mean, none of your business!”
Emit rears back slightly. “A husband? You’re only twenty years old. Why in the hell—” He sighs and impatiently gestures with his hand. “Never mind. Phone. Now.”
I fist my hands in my hair when what I want to do is strangle his neck. “I told you, I don’t have one, asshole!”
He curls his upper lip with a low growl, then backs out of the car. He yanks me up like a toddler by my arms and maneuvers me belly-side down into the backseat on top of my garbage bags of clothes, which I’m using in lieu of luggage since I can’t afford any. I shudder when Emit drapes himself over me while he searches the back of my car, his hips unintentionally thrusting against my ass.
Coming up empty again and even more pissed off, Emit drags me out and across the dirt, then spins me around to press my front against the frame of his truck. With one hand between my shoulder blades, he kicks my feet apart and starts patting me down like a criminal. I’d forgotten he and Luther had gone through the Police Academy together, though I don’t know if Emit dropped out like Luther did.
“Where is it?” he snaps, patting the front and back pockets of my jeans, then running one hand down my right side, checking both ankles, then up my other side.
I squeal and try to fight him off when he slides a hand under my shirt and shoves the right side of my bra up to grope my bare breast. I shiver despite the heat. “Oh my god, what are you doing?!” Who knew the first man to touch me so intimately would be freaking Emit giving me an illegal strip search on the side of the road after I nearly killed the both of us?
“Sometimes women hide things in their bras,” he grunts, switching to the other breast, his palm rough and hot.
“There’s no way this is how you’re supposed to search people! I demand you let me go, or I’m going to call your boss and report you!”
“Oh, you’re going to report me?” He laughs, squeezing my breast, his voice hard and unrecognizable from the one he used with me when I was a kid. “So you do have a phone. Tell me where it is.”
I snarl to cut off a moan when he pinches my nipple, a sharp bite of unexpected pleasure. He’s nothing but a series of grunts and grumbles about howgirls who lie need a firm hand to keep them on the right trackas he flattens his chest to my back. My heart beats wildly, as scared now as when I nearly crashed on the interstate when he drops his hands to the waistband of my jeans and pops open my button, then rips down my zipper.
“Oh god, oh god, stop! Don’t do this!” I brace my hands on the truck and try to push away from it with all my strength, but he has me pinned.
“Calm down! If you’d been a good girl and told me where it was, I wouldn’t have to search you! And since it’s not in your bra, I have to check…” Emit trails off, and I cry out, dropping my forehead against the hot metal of his truck when his right hand delves into my panties. He’s breathing heavily against me,his arm rigid with his hand frozen in place, cupping me like a possessive lover.
Meanwhile, I’m shaking and lightheaded after surviving on nothing but energy drinks to keep me going for far too long, and I’ve got nothing left in the tank to cope with what’s happening—hitting my life’s rock bottom when I didn’t know it could go any lower.
