Make Me Bad - R.S. Grey Page 0,5

my dad, I called Judge Mathers. He was in bed, close to nodding off, but within the hour, I was a free man. Well, almost—I still have a shiny new misdemeanor on my record thanks to my plea of guilty.

That surprised everyone, including the judge. I could have easily had the charges dropped. My specialty might not be criminal law, but there is no way the assault charges against me would hold up in court.

I didn’t try to get the charges dropped because I know that’s what they all want—Mac, the police, the chief. I know they expect me to call in a few favors and weasel my way out of any real consequences, so instead, I’ll suffer them. Gladly.

Outside the station, I start my walk home since my car’s back at the bar. Andy’s calling nonstop, trying to figure out what’s going on. He must have alerted my dad as well, or maybe it was Judge Mathers, because he’s calling too. I turn off my phone and pocket it, glad for the quiet.

Main Street is deserted, which is the way I prefer it. I shove my hands into my pockets and keep walking, wondering how long it’ll take me to get home. My dad’s house is closer, only a few blocks away. I could stop there for the night, but I’d have rather just slept in jail. He means well, but I just don’t have the energy tonight. I turn left onto a side street so I can take a shortcut to my house then stop short when I hear a woman scream. At first, I think my mind is playing tricks on me, turning the howling wind into something more sinister, but there it is again, a muffled scream.

I jerk around and stand stock-still as I listen.

There’s the sound of a car a few blocks away, a barking dog in the distance, the wind picking up again, but no more screams.

I shake my head, about to turn around and keep walking when I catch movement down near the toy store. I squint and try to make out what it is, but it’s impossible to tell from this distance. It almost looks like two people, a taller man in black and someone else, mostly hidden.

“Hey!” I shout on a whim, no real plan in place.

I’m unarmed and my eye is swollen enough that I can’t really see well out of it. I grab for my phone and shout that I’m calling the cops. Real macho stuff, I know.

The man in black shifts a little to the left and I see a small girl cowering there with a gun aimed at her head.

Fuck.

I take off toward them, sprinting. The man sees me and whips the gun around so it’s aimed my way. He shoots and a bullet pings off a lamppost near my head. Oh Jesus. A smart man would run in the exact opposite direction. I’m not sure what that makes me.

“Get the fuck away from her!” I shout, adrenaline coursing through my body.

I have no idea what I’m going to do, but I don’t think this guy does either because the closer I get to them, the more erratic his movements become. He tries to shove the girl down onto the ground and shouts at her not to move. She puts up a little fight, but he kicks her legs out from under her and she crashes down onto the sidewalk. I yell at him to get away from her again, and now I’m only a few feet away. He glances over his shoulder, looking for an escape route.

His gun fires again and the bullet whizzes past my ear.

He’s got piss-poor aim.

He realizes there are only two options: fight or flight. I’m going to wrestle that gun out of his hand even if I get shot in the process, and maybe he can tell from my pace or my tattered appearance that I’m not really someone he wants to mess with at the moment because at the very last minute, he shoves away from her and takes off running.

I skid to a stop near the girl and watch him, debating what to do. I’m fast and I could probably catch him, but then the girl moans. I glance down and realize I shouldn’t leave her. She’s a child. What the hell was he going to do to her? And why was she out here alone at night?

“My back,” she whimpers, and I jump into action, leaning down to