“He did not assault you!” I snapped.
“He put his hands on me,” Brad leaned forward, “twice!”
I leaned forward too. “That’s because you forced your way into our room and put your hands on me and wouldn’t let me go even though I asked a million times!” I looked to the policeman and informed him, “And Tate didn’t put his hands on Brad. He only needed to use one hand.”
Caroline emitted a strangled giggle and Tate used one finger on one hand to hook one of my belt loops and pull me into his side.
I felt his lips at my ear when he ordered softly, “Quiet, Ace.”
The policeman was still staring at Tate.
Then he spoke. “Dude, when I was a kid, me and my Dad, shit, we were your biggest fans.”
Tate’s lips left my ear as he straightened and asked, “Come again?”
“My Dad’s Penn State alumni and he still says you were the best linebacker in the history of collegiate football,” the policeman stated. “He was so devastated he didn’t talk for a week when you blew out your knee that second game in for the Eagles.” He shook his head. “Seriously. That sucked, man.”
I felt my body go still.
“What’s this?” Caroline asked the question in my head.
“Holy f**k, Jesus, shit, you’re Tatum Jackson,” Mack whispered, definitely now looking at Tate like he’d never seen him before.
“What’s this about?” Brad clipped. “Why aren’t you taking him to the station or something?”
“Can I have your autograph?” the policeman asked Tate.
“What?” I whispered.
“What?” Brad shouted.
“No,” Tate said.
“It’s not for me, it’s for my Dad,” the policeman continued.
Brad threw up his hands. “This is ridiculous!”
Tate ignored Brad and spoke to the policeman. “Your Dad live in town?”
“Yeah,” the policeman answered.
“We’re havin’ lunch at The Station. Call him, tell him to come by, we’ll have a beer,” Tate offered.
“That would be awesome,” the policeman breathed then said louder, “Dad’ll freakin’ flip!”
“Excuse me, would you mind if we talk about the assault charge?” Brad asked sarcastically and the policeman’s body jerked and he looked at Brad.
Then he looked at me. “You Jackson’s woman?”
“Um…” I mumbled, uncertain of the appropriate response to that query.
“Yes,” Tate answered, not sounding uncertain in the slightest.
“You married to this guy?” the policeman jerked a thumb at Brad.
“They’re divorced,” Tate shared.
The policeman looked at Brad. “Statement said she was your wife.”
“Ex-wife, same thing,” Brad muttered.
“No,” Tate’s rough voice put in and Brad scowled at him, “it ain’t.”
“She says you forced entry into her and Jackson’s room, you do that?” the policeman asked Brad.
“She let me in,” Brad replied.
“I did not!” I snapped. “I thought it was Tate back from running and he forgot his keycard so I opened the door. You just came right on in, I didn’t invite you and you’d surprised me considering at the hospital the day before I told you to go away. Not to mention I could not believe you were at my hotel room door at six thirty in the morning, knowing Tate was running because you saw him and you were taking advantage because he was gone.”
I felt that scary energy start to emanate from Tate but before I could react or even process the even scarier look I saw Tate directing at Brad, Caroline spoke.
“She did say that, at the hospital,” Carrie backed me up and then helpfully shared more information. “Dad had a heart attack and Brad just showed. We all tried to get rid of him seeing as he cheated on Lauren with her best friend then divorced her now he wants her back but she doesn’t want him back because she’s got a bounty hunter hot guy and Brad’s a dick, he just wouldn’t go.”
The policeman looked at Tate with wide eyes. “You’re a bounty hunter now?”
Tate didn’t get to reply because something occurred to me and I spoke to Brad.
“How did you know about Dad?” I asked and Brad started to look uncomfortable. “Brad,” I prompted.
“Tina heard from somewhere and she called me,” Brad told me.
“Tina?” I asked softly knowing he meant Tina Blackstone, a woman I grew up with in that ‘burg. She was a girl I didn’t like and she grew up to be a woman I didn’t like. She had her eyes on Brad from the minute I brought him to town on a visit and we’d bumped into her at a party. Then again, she always had her eyes on every guy she encountered if they were good-looking. Brad struck up a friendship with her that he said was totally innocent but it always made me uncomfortable. I had no idea they still talked. We’d been out of Indiana for years. Why would he stay in contact with Tina?
“Tina?” the policeman asked Brad. “You mean Tina Blackstone?”
Brad’s back went straight and he looked at the policeman. “Yes, she’s a friend.”
“I bet,” the policeman muttered, obviously knowing all about Tina Blackstone and I knew then too.
Tina wasn’t just a friend and my ex wasn’t just a dick, he was a screaming ass**le dick.
Tate brought the matter back to hand by asking the cop, “He tell you he was accosting Lauren in our room?”
“Nope, didn’t mention that,” the policeman replied.
“I was hardly accosting her,” Brad spat.
“Heard her shoutin’ in the hall,” Tate returned. “Got into the room and you had your hands on her, she was strugglin’ and shoutin’ for you to let her go. If that ain’t accostin’, what is it?”
“We were talking,” Brad declared.
“Bud, a woman’s strugglin’ in your arms and shouting ‘fuck you’, that ain’t talkin’,” Tate educated.
Brad gave up on Tate and looked at the cop. “He still put his hands on me, shoved me out of the room.”
“He strike you?” the cop asked.
“Not exactly,” Brad answered.
“Did he strike you?” the cop repeated.
“No,” Brad snapped.
“You get injured?” the policeman went on.