Free as a Jailbird

Chapter 13

Nick's boss cracks the absolute shits when we get back to the station. I've never seen the sergeant that off his rocker. Not even when I got out of a one-year sentence for possession with only a month of community service. He yells and swears and this huge vein on his forehead pulsates like an old man's heart rate during a seizure. And not just about the car and the fact that Nick shouldn't have parked it behind dumpsters in a dingy neighbourhood, no. Worse. Much worse.

"And what the bloody hell are you doing with her?!"

I sit in the interrogation room. Again. The walls aren't exactly sound proof, which I think is a violation. Perhaps Sarge is just loud. Nick didn't talk much when we got a ride back in another cop car and no one asked questions. Up until now, I wasn't mentioned at all.

"That's not really relevant. Aren't we going to worry more about the bastards who trashed my car?" Nick side-steps the question with as much respect as he can manage in his tone, but his expression is still dark.

The sergeant grumbles. "That's my call Bronson, now did you find anything at all on the car that could identify the culprit?"

Nick shakes his head and I feel the note in my pocket burn. All I've been thinking about ever since I found it tacked to the door handle is the letter from Connor. Oh, I know it was Connor. Who else would be stupid enough to leave their own initial at the bottom? The terrible spelling alone gave it away.

"All that I could find, sir, was the symbol of a circle with an 'X' in the middle keyed across the side." Nick, I note, seems very protective of his car. I don't have any idea why.

The symbol must be the new signature of the Southbend Bikers.

They talk in low voices for a while longer. Sarge eventually nods curtly and snatches a phone from the desk, dialling as though the buttons are nasty little spiders. Nick storms into the interrogation room and when he sees my nervous expression, his softens a little.

"Sorry you had to hear that." He eases into the chair opposite me. His face looks somehow older.

"S'okay," I shrug. "I expected that from him."

Nick waits a moment and then sits forward, facing me. "Normally I don't have to resort to back up on my first date and flip out like that. I've only ever had one police car damaged, and that was my own fault." He sighs and puts his head in his hands. "That sort of thing has never happened to me before."

I lean forward also and put my hands around his. Through the gaps in his fingers, I feel the short bristles of his hair. He is incredibly soft. I gently pry his hands away and meet his gaze. "I believe that was our second date," I smile. "And it's really okay, I sort of expected something to go wrong on my part, but this was you and not me, so I'm actually relieved."

He breathes a laugh and I realize how bad that sounded.

"Well, I mean in my case it would have been much worse-"

"I see your point," he says. The note in my pocket feels colder still but I know I'm only imagining it. It's urging me to show it to him. But I can't. If he finds out it was Connor who destroyed his car, he'll be there tonight at St. James and get himself into a whole lot of shit he shouldn't mess with. It's me who has to go tonight, alone.

Nick doesn't know about the debate going on in my head, obviously, but when he sees my expression he realized something is up.

"Jess, can we do this again sometime? I blew it with the coffee thing and I want to make it up to you."