It took every ounce of self-control in my blood cells to hold my fists away from Martin’s face. I’ve never felt such a strong urgeto beat a man to a bloody pulp in public, police badge be damned.
Part of me wonders if it’s too late to whip this car in reverse and go take care of this urge.
A soft sigh pours from the passenger seat next to me, and I’m reminded why I can’t.
“You okay?” I grumble. The intention is nice, but I’m still grinding my teeth too hard to sound like it.
“Yeah.”
I’m not convinced, but I say simply, “Good.”
More silence. I’m beginning to form a love-hate relationship with the quiet. I love that she’s not jumping on my back with amillion questions I may or may not have answers to. I hate that I don’t know what’s going through her head.
I’m confused as to why I eve
