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back to him, so he couldn’t see when he’d pulled up and started walking towards us.
    Downy exchanged handshakes and gave Reese a messy toss of her hair before looking at me.
    “Some woman’s drag racing a couple of teens in your truck,” Downy said without preamble.
    I looked down at my toes and pinched the bridge of my nose before slipping my hand into my pocket and withdrawing my phone.
    “Hello?” Georgia answered.
    “Alright, Niña mala , I don’t know if you realize this, but everyone knows my truck around town. I’d appreciate it if you save the racing for when you’re in a vehicle of your own,” I growled while still looking down at my feet.
    And what did she do? Fucking laughed.
    “Bad girl’s all you could come up with? Come on, even your teenage self could’ve done better than that,” Georgia giggled.
    I sighed. “I swear to God, if you hurt my truck in any way, I’m going to give you the spanking of a lifetime.”
    She hung up and all I could do was shake my head, while laughing softly to myself. She’d always been spunky, and it was nice to see that side of her again.
    When I finally looked back up, it was to see everyone surrounding me staring at me as if I’d grown a second head.
    Hell, even some of the other officers milling about were looking at me the same exact way.
    “What are you looking at?” I asked one of the rookie officers who’d frozen in his tracks.
    He shook his head hastily and power walked inside, not once looking back.
    I turned to find Reese staring at me disapprovingly.
    “You just scared that poor kid to death. I bet he’s going to go into a bathroom stall and cry,” she scolded.
    I shrugged. “If all it takes is me staring at him to make him cry, then it’s obvious he doesn’t need to be a cop. This job will chew him up and spit him out.”
    I got murmurs of agreement from the rest of the men surrounding me, and I couldn’t help the grin that spread over my face. That woman would be the death of me, but it’d be one hell of a ride on the way down.

Chapter 4
    Admit it. You sleep with your feet covered because you’re too afraid of something touching them in the middle of the night.
    -Food for thought
    Georgia
    Something annoying was playing with my foot.
    Creep, it had to be.
    Creep was my cat, and he was the biggest bastard in the world.
    Every morning at five, he’d start tumbling around the house. If I didn’t get moving within ten minutes of his gymnastic session, then it’d get worse. For instance, he’d lay on my chest, placing his ass towards my face, and slowly swish his tail back and forth until I either knocked him away, or got up.
    The feet ticking thing was new, however.
    So was the way he started running his fingers up my leg.
    Fingers. Leg.
    I sat bolt upright, gasping in terror.
    My mind was locked in a horror I couldn’t get out of.
    They were fighting again.
    They always fought.
    Why the hell couldn’t I have a normal fucking father?
    His angry, drunk bellows were loud. So loud that they had to be in the hallway next to my door.
    The hard thunk-thunk of something hitting the wall had me standing in angry indignation.
    My mom wasn’t a fighter. She’d sit there and take it like it was her duty.
    When I didn’t hear anything else, I decided to get back in bed.
    There were no more angry shouts, no whimpering, and no crying. I deluded myself into thinking that she was fine and laid back down, pulling the covers up over my head.
    Today had been a long day, and my father hadn’t helped one damn bit. It’d been me and the bigger boys moving the cattle; my father just sat on the front porch drinking like he normally did.
    It wasn’t until I was nearly asleep that I felt the hand around my ankle.
    It was strong and relentless as I tried hard to stop myself from being pulled down the bed.
    My struggles were for nothing, though, because my father had a death grip on my ankle, and he was about five times stronger than me.
    My legs swung free