Daddy in Cowboy Boots (Montana Daddies #9) - Laylah Roberts Page 0,2

up her face. She loved driving fast. And while this old rust bucket of a car might not have a working heater or decent suspension—she bounced with each hole in the road—it did have a bit of horsepower.

Turning another corner, she let out a giggle at the rush of adrenaline. She shot down the straight road. Headlights headed towards her on the other side of the road, and she dimmed her lights, but didn’t slow down. She had a good speed going now.

“Go, baby, go,” she cheered.

Then her good mood plummeted as she heard a siren go off behind her.

Mierda! No.

Not good. Not good.

The other car had turned around and was heading back her way. She hadn’t even noticed that it was a cop car.

Drat. Damn it. Her aunt would kill her if she got a speeding ticket. She slowed and put on her indicator, driving off to the side of the road.

The cop car pulled up behind her, the headlights flooding her car with light. Nerves filled her stomach. It’s all right. It’s not him. Not all cops are bad.

Rosalind had filled Marisol’s head with stories of corrupt police officers. Of how all cops were to be feared. Were evil. Once she was older, she realized her aunt had done that on purpose, that she’d likely made most of those stories up in order to make Marisol mistrustful of the police.

Then when she was ten, her aunt had been arrested and Marisol had been questioned by a police officer on a power trip before social services arrived. He’d yelled at her, threatened her, terrified her. But she’d never said a word to him. Or anyone since about what happened. Still, it had further ingrained a fear of the authorities.

You have nothing to be afraid of. Just take the ticket and drive away. Nothing to be scared of.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t gotten speeding tickets before. Just never at nighttime. On such a quiet road.

He could do anything to you and no one would ever know.

Okay, she had to stop.

What was a cop doing out here at this time of night anyway? There was a knock at her window and she jumped, letting out a cry.

Shit! She held her hand to her heart. He’d scared her half to death. What did he think he was doing?

He’s probably trying to get you to wind down your window so he can talk to you . . . idiot.

“Right, right,” she muttered to herself as she reached over and wound down the window.

“Evening,” a friendly voice said.

Even psychopaths can sound friendly. Assassins can sound friendly. School principals can sound friendly.

But they all have the potential to make your life a living hell.

“Miss? You okay? Miss? Are you hyperventilating?”

“I’m really sorry for speeding, I won’t do it again. I promise. I mean, I wasn’t going that fast, right?”

“You were going ten miles over the speed limit.”

Crap. Crap. “Is that bad? That’s bad, right? Please don’t take me to jail and lock me up in a cell with some scary woman doing time for cutting off her husband’s penis. Because if she could cut off a penis then what could she do to me? I have no self-defense skills. None. My only skills are nails and facials and I don’t think that’s going to help me against someone who can turn a bar of soap into a shank.”

“Can you turn a bar of soap into a shank?” the cop asked curiously.

“Yep, I saw it on one of those real-life crime shows. Or was it a fictional crime show? I’m not sure. Do prisoners get bars of soap?”

“Well, we do let them wash themselves. We’re not completely heartless.”

“I’m doomed.”

“Okay, someone has been watching way too much TV.” The voice still sounded calm, even amused.

“Sorry,” she muttered. She clenched her hands into fists, trying to calm herself down. The last thing she needed was for him to think she was on something.

“So do you do this a lot?”

“Ramble on about penises and shanks?” She gaped up at him.

He’s not him. He’s not him.

He cleared his throat. She got the feeling he might be trying not to burst into laughter. She didn’t know why he would be laughing. None of this was funny.

If she didn’t end up in a cell then her aunt was going to kill her for getting a speeding ticket.

“Ah no, I meant speeding. Since you seem to have this fear that I’m about to drag you away to a jail cell I wondered if