Bad Boy (An Indecent Proposal) - J.C. Reed Page 0,15

me. After a short glance to his friends, a pulse began to pound visibly in his left temple.

Someone couldn’t cope with rejection. Too bad.

“You gentlemen have a lovely evening.” I shot them a cold stare and headed out the door, aware of the venomous looks piercing a hole in my back.

Only after I was outside, I dared to exhale the breath I didn’t even know I had been holding. This could have ended badly, so I was glad that I was out of there. Shaking my head, I started to walk.

I couldn’t wait to get back to the hotel.

Night had fallen and the streets had filled with tourists. Making my way back to the hotel, I pushed my way through the gathered crowds. The moment I walked through the gate I felt a hard grip on my shoulder.

My heart stopped dead in my chest. I turned sharply, a startled cry lodged deep within my throat. But it wasn’t some random guy or a mugger.

It was the cop from before.

Alone; his friends nowhere in sight.

“Did you follow me?” I asked the police guy through gritted teeth, barely able to contain my flaring temper.

Who did he think he was, stalking me?

“Show me your bag,” he demanded.

“What? No way. It’s my bag.” I clutched it tighter against my chest, instantly fearing he might be about to rob me, even though that would make no sense. Why would a cop rob me? Unless he thought I had lots of money, which I didn’t.

“I said open your bag now.” His hand went to his holster, and my eyes widened at his threatening tone.

“Okay.” I spread out my palms. “Just relax, dude.” My fingers shook as I opened my handbag, exposing its contents for all the world to see. “See. Nothing special. I’m just a tourist. Not even a rich one.”

He inched closer to me and grabbed my bag out of my hands. I watched in horror as he began to spill its contents on the street: my calendar, my lipstick, a mirror.

“You don’t call this nothing?” He picked up something white.

A card.

On it was a stripper, or maybe not a stripper, but someone who was naked. And a number.

I stared at it, unsure. Where did I get that? I couldn’t remember.

“Interesting,” he said and flipped it over. Now I saw what he saw.

It was a card from some sex worker or a pimp.

Even though the text was in Spanish, I was sure that I wasn’t wrong.

“Um”—I stared at it, taken aback—“That’s not mine.”

“Does it matter? All that matters is that it was inside your bag.” A strange smile played across his lips.

My eyes narrowed as realization dawned on me. “You son of a bitch. You put it there.”

“I want to see you proving that, my little American friend.” His grin widened as he turned me around.

His hands on me sent my pulse racing, and not in a good way. My heart jumped into my throat. I opened my mouth to protest, but the shock coursing through me rendered me speechless.

“You’re coming with me.” His left hand wandered down my arm to my wrists and he held them in front of me as his right hand fidgeted at his back. “I’ll teach you to be reasonable.”

“Let go of me,” I screeched, struggling in his grip. I didn’t realize what he was doing until cold metal snapped around my wrists, the pressure both painful and surprisingly numbing.

I blinked in disbelief as I peered down at the handcuffs. Was he arresting me?

“What the—” My words died in my throat as I was pulled forward toward the waiting police car and pushed into the backseat.

“You need to come with us on suspicion of soliciting a client and working as a prostitute without a valid work permit,” the police guy said and slammed the door behind me.

Fuck!

I had heard of situations like this. People were wrongfully incarcerated. Or kidnapped. Or worse. Why the hell was this happening to me? My breath hitched as my throat constricted with panic.

“I didn’t solicit anyone. I’m a US citizen on vacation. Let me out,” I screamed and kicked in my seat, ready to draw as much attention to myself as possible. Onlookers had gathered around us, their cell phones suspiciously raised. The videos were probably being uploaded to YouTube that very instant.

My only chance.

I pressed my palms against the window and opened my mouth to explain my situation when the car sped off, siren blaring and all.

Crap.

Double crap.

Remember when I’d said earlier that I