Chapter 33
Dante
“What the fuck do you mean, you can’t do anything but put it in his file?” My fist slams the desk hard enough to rattle the half-empty coffee mug.
Detective Jones tenses visibly. Irritation flashes in his eyes, nostrils flaring as he stares me down in silent warning. “Mr. Barrera, as I’ve explained three times now, the restraining order is processed. We’re doing everything we can.”
“Everything you can?” I repeat. “I’m standing here with a handwritten note that’s probably covered in fingerprints. And—oh, right—security footage showing a man who matches this shithead’s description leaving it on my car that also matches the guy from the apartment’s cameras.”
The longer I speak, the more my voice rises, and I can tell the detective is itching to get in my face. Right now, I couldn’t care less.
“All of it. I’ve got all of it, and you’re telling me you’ll make a copy, shove it on a shelf, and call it a day?” My finger jabs the folder. “I don’t fucking think so. Try again.”
“Dante,” Theo whispers, sliding his hand into mine.
The detective’s face flushes a deep, angry red. “That’s enough,” he growls.
“Oh, it’s nowhere near enough. This guy is clearly unstable.
You’re doing jack shit beyond sticking paper in a folder and patting yourselves on the back like you’ve actually accomplished something.
If you wait until this unhinged asshole shows up to hurt him, it’ll be me you’re handcuffing. Want to know why?”
“Finishing that thought is not the best idea,” Theo mutters, tugging my hand insistently.
The detective straightens in his chair. “Why is that, Mr. Barrera?”
“Because then you’ll force me to do your job for you, and I promise I’m not as incompetent as this department. If he lays a hand on Theo, I will come after every single—”
“He’s such a kidder!” Theo says, far too loudly, and yanks my arm with everything he’s got.
His eyes are wide, pleading silently for me to stop before I land in cuffs.
“He’s always making these terrible jokes.
Ha. Ha-ha. He wouldn’t actually be stupid enough to threaten a police officer,” he adds in an extraordinarily pointed tone, the words aimed straight at me.
My chest rises and falls on a deep, deliberate breath as I force myself to calm.
“All I’m saying,” I start, keeping my voice level as I turn back to the detective, “is that you have plenty of evidence to do something. What do you want us to wait for? When is it enough proof? When Theo has been hurt? Is that what it takes?”
“Of course not,” Detective Jones sneers. “But you’re making serious accusations against a man with very little information.”
“Getting information is not my job!” Heads swivel toward us across the station as I slam the papers onto his desk. “It’s yours. I’m only asking you to do it.”
Theo tugs my hand and starts pulling me toward the door.
“Th-thank you,” he says, dragging me away like he’s afraid I might lunge at the man.
“Please let us know if there’s more we can do,” Theo adds over his shoulder.
“My boyfriend may be more aggressive about it than I am, but I am actually pretty scared. Terrified, even. Whatever help we can give to get this under control, we will.”
“We’ll call you if we need anything,” Detective Jones says, his gaze softening.
Theo nods once before tugging me out into the cool afternoon air.
“Motherfuckers!” I shout, startling a few pedestrians on the sidewalk as I grab his hand. “Come on. We’re going to Jugs’.”
“Dante,” he says quietly.
I shake my head. “We will do everything we can to keep him away from you, but—”
“Dante.” He says it louder this time, but I’m too locked in my own head.
“—you have to be able to protect yourself—”
“Dante!” He spins me around and shoves me against the car. “Get out of your head. This isn’t you. You don’t run around yelling at people and threatening cops.”
“I wouldn’t have to if they’d just do their jobs!”
His lips press into a thin line as he shakes his head. “And screaming at them does what, exactly? Explain to me how that helps.”
My gaze drops to the pavement as I mumble under my breath.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you,” he says, voice thick with snark.
“It doesn’t help.” I kick the toe of my shoe against the asphalt. “But it sure as shit makes me feel better. I hate that I’m so fucking useless in this.”
“You aren’t useless, but you also can’t get arrested. I don’t have bail money lying around, you know. I’d have to do questionable things to earn it quickly.”
I huff a laugh, but it isn’t in me to smile yet. “I’m sorry for being hotheaded.”
“You don’t need to apologize for that,” he says softly, “just don’t be rash, okay? Can you at least promise me that?”
“Yeah, that I can do,” I reply with a terse nod, pressing a kiss to the top of his hair.
“Good.” He hugs me tighter, and a fraction of the coiled tension unwinds from my chest. “We’ll go to Jugs’, because it makes sense to be prepared, but you also need to get some aggression out.”
“Okay.” I bury my face in the crook of his neck, breathing in the sweet, familiar scent of his skin. “Okay, let’s go.”