The Pagan Stone Page 0,71

real. And why the hell had he promised he'd take care of her-because that's just what he'd done. Something in the way she'd looked at him, he decided. Steady, calm as she'd asked him to end her life. She'd meant what she'd said, flat-out meant it. More, she'd trusted him to know she meant it.

Time for a conversation, he decided. Time to make sure they both understood exactly what was on the table, and what wasn't. He didn't want anyone depending on him.

He could ask himself why he hadn't stayed over after the game, used the hotel room he'd booked. Why he hadn't moved on the signals sent by the very appealing redhead who'd given him a good run for his money at the table. All things being equal, he should be enjoying a post-sex room-service breakfast with the redhead right about now. Instead he was, again, heading for the Hollow.

So he wouldn't ask himself why. No point in asking when he didn't want the answer.

He glanced in the rearview at the sound of the sirens, then took a casual glance down at the speedometer. Only about five over the posted limit, he noted, as he wasn't in any hurry. He pulled over to the shoulder. He wasn't surprised that the view in his side mirror showed him Derrick Napper climbing out of the cruiser.

Fucking Napper, who'd hated him, Cal, and Fox since childhood. And had made it his life's work, so it seemed, to cause them trouble. Fox, particularly, Gage mused. But none of the three of them were immune.

Asshole likes to strut, Gage thought, as Napper did just that to cover the distance from the cruiser to Gage's Ferrari. How the hell did they allow such a complete bastard to strap on a weapon and pin on a badge?

Cocking a hip, Napper leaned down, gave Gage a wide, white smile. "Some people think having a fancy machine gives them the right to break the law."

"Some might."

"You were speeding, boy."

"Maybe." Without being asked, Gage offered license and registration.

"What'd this thing set you back?"

"Just write the ticket, Napper."

Napper's eyes narrowed to slits. "You were weaving."

"No," Gage said with the same dead calm, "I wasn't."

"Driving erratically, speeding. You been drinking?"

Gage tapped the to-go cup in its holder. "Coffee."

"I believe I smell alcohol on your breath. We take driving drunk serious around here, fuckhead." He smiled when he said it. "I need you to step out of the car, take a test."

"No."

Napper's hand dropped to the butt of his sidearm. "I said step out of the car, fucker."

Baiting the hook, Gage thought. It was the sort of thing that too often worked on Fox. For himself, he'd just let Deputy Asshole play it out. Slowly, Gage took the keys out of the ignition. He stepped out, clicked the locks, all the while staring into Napper's eyes. "I'm not taking a Breathalyzer, and it's within my rights to refuse."

"I say you stink of alcohol." Napper jammed a finger into Gage's chest. "I say you're a lousy drunk, just like your old man."

"Say anything you want. The opinions of dickheads don't weigh much with me."

Napper shoved Gage back against the car. Though Gage's hands curled into fists, he kept them at his sides. "I say you're drunk." To punctuate it, Napper slammed his hand on Gage's chest. "I say you resisted arrest. I say you assaulted an officer. We'll see how much that weighs when you're behind bars." He shoved Gage again, grinned. "Chicken-shit bastard." He pushed Gage around. "Spread 'em."

Coolly, Gage laid his hands on the roof of the car as Napper frisked him. "You get off on that? Is that part of the perks?" He hissed in a breath, but stayed as he was when Napper rabbit-punched him.

"You shut the fuck up." Wrenching Gage's arms behind his back, Napper cuffed him. "Maybe we'll take a little ride, you and me, before I put you in jail."

"It'll be interesting to hear you explain that, when I call in the six witnesses who drove by while you were rousting me. While you put hands on me while mine were at my sides. License numbers are in my head. I'm good with numbers." He didn't flinch when Napper pushed him violently against the car again. "And look, here comes another one."

The approaching car slowed. Gage recognized it as Joanne Barry's little hybrid. She stopped the car, rolled down the windows, and said, "Oh-oh."

"You just drive on, Ms. Barry. This is police business."

The disgusted look she