Captured Again(The Let Me Go Series)

Chapter 2


After stuttering through her Miranda rights, all of which Emma seemed to indifferently ignore, Officer Rowan guided her into the car, his hand hovering over her head to be sure she didn’t bump it going in. Completely unconscious of what he was doing, his hand floated down, cradling the back of her head, as though it had a mind of its own. He’d wanted to sink his fingers into her hair since the moment he first saw her. Realizing his mistake, he quickly jerked back his hand.

He could feel the heat in his cheeks as he looked down at her, waiting for her to settle in, and watched her gather up her hair, pulling it over to one side and bringing it around to her front, keeping it off of the back of the seat. She leaned forward, and he caught a glimpse of her tat—a scarlet dragonfly—completely bared by the thin straps and low back of the sundress she wore, innocently revealed by the graceful sweep of her hair—beautiful, almost magical. He didn’t have any tattoos of his own and really wasn’t into them... usually. But he was drawn to this one and all conscious thought of what he was doing disappeared for a moment.

Emma settled herself, leaning back and daintily crossing her legs—now drawing his eyes to the tops of her tan, bare calves peeking out from her boots—and pulling the skirt of her dress over her naked thighs as she leaned back against the seat and then looked up at him hovering outside the door, staring down at her. She was stunning, tiny... and breathtaking.

Emma stared back at him, not blinking. “So are you taking me in or what?”

Officer Rowan shook his head, smiling at her consistent indignant attitude that conflicted with the elegant way she’d settled herself in, as if he were her driver taking orders from her. There’s a lot of layers to this chick, he thought.

“Yes, ma’am, Miss Daisy, I’ll be happy to drive you,” he joked, receiving nothing but a scowl in return for his efforts.

After making sure she was buckled in, he shut her door and hurried around to the driver’s side. He almost chuckled, thinking back to her last little display of temper. He was surprised she hadn’t fallen on her rump with that kick, but he’d stayed close enough to catch her if she’d lost her footing... and wouldn’t have minded doing just that. She was a little spitfire at just twenty years old and barely over five feet tall—according to her driver’s license.

He was glad his dash-cam had stopped working the week before and the requisition process for a new one was so tedious and drawn out; he’d hate for his superior officers to see how much he’d let her get away with and how many do-overs he’d allowed her.

The moment Emma had rolled down her window and he’d looked into those piercing blue eyes framed by her dark hair, she’d mesmerized him. He remembered pulling his eyes away long enough to see that her tiny hands gripping the steering wheel were naked—no ring.

She had failed the first few sobriety tests, and he could’ve taken her in right then, but it was as though she’d put a spell on him. He’d enjoyed watching her wobble around in her sexy little dress and shit-kickers, as they were called back in Tennessee, where his family was originally from, and he’d really hoped she could convince him she was sober. He could have followed her the two miles to her apartment, just to be sure she’d made it safely, and possibly ended it with an exchange of phone numbers. Between his job and finishing his degree in criminal justice, he rarely had time to date, but for a girl like this one, he’d have made the time.

But after the Breathalyzer, there was no doubt. She’d proven to him, and herself, that she’d broken the law, no matter that it was just barely over the limit. His department had zero tolerance for drinking and driving. His job—and possibly saving lives—was more important than scoring with a hot girl. If he let her go, she’d probably do it again. He couldn’t take that risk. It wasn’t his job to teach lessons, but it was his job to prevent drunk driving accidents.

He glanced into his rearview mirror. Emma was biting her lip—but not crying. He had to hand it to her, most girls her age would be sobbing by now. He watched as she held her head high and didn’t shed a tear, accepting her consequence with poise. He had to concentrate on keeping his eyes on the road instead of the sensual pull of her front teeth nibbling her lip that kept drawing his eyes back to the mirror. He felt like shit having to take this girl in... and even worse, he knew he’d probably blown any chance he had with her.

He cleared his throat, swallowing repeatedly, and tried to clear his head.

“So... Emma, I heard you on the phone. Celebrating Independence Day, huh?” he asked over the constant squawk and chatter on the police radio, feeling an unusual—and unprofessional—need to break the deafening silence between them on their ride to the station and make her feel a little more comfortable. “Holidays are the worst for getting pulled for drinking and driving. You do realize we put out extra patrols? You should’ve had a designated driver, maybe one of your friends from college?”


“No, I didn’t say I was celebrating Independence Day. I said I was celebrating my freedom—and mourning a loss,” Emma snapped while continuing to focus straight ahead on the back of the front seat, her chin held high. “And are you on a first-name basis with everyone you arrest?” she asked sarcastically.

She had him there. That was a total slip-up. He hadn’t meant to address her so familiarly. He ignored her question. Freedom and loss... must’ve been a breakup—or a job? he thought.

“Freedom from what? Did you break up with your boyfriend?” Officer Rowan held his breath, hoping she would say yes. A girl like this would definitely have a boyfriend.

“No,” she snapped and began tapping her fingers on the rough, scratched vinyl of the door panel.

“Oh, so you’re still together? Will he be bailing you out?”

“No and no.”

Officer Rowan paused to let that sink in. She’d already said she didn’t break up with her boyfriend, and now no and no to still together, and he’s not bailing her out... Ah, she doesn’t have a boyfriend. Maybe I should set my sights on detective, he thought and smiled at his own inside joke.

“Okay, so did you leave your job?”

Emma sighed. “No.”

Damn, Dusty thought, I skipped right over husband. She seems too young to have been married and divorced, but that has to be it... Just my luck.

“Oh, I’m following you now. You’re celebrating your divorce. Sorry, I’m a little slow tonight,” he said while sneaking another peek at her in his rearview mirror, smiling back at her smugly for finally figuring it out.

“No! I’m not divorced!” Emma huffed out a breath. “Look, it’s personal. Can we just keep this business? How long before I can leave the station after we get there? I’m hoping my sister will be there to pick me up. I’ve got class first thing in the morning.”

“Yeah, me too...” he mumbled under his breath.

Officer Rowan had run her license and tags, but no red flags came up. She couldn’t have just been freed from custody or he would have been alerted by his computer. He’d covered husband, job, and boyfriend. He wondered what was left. Whatever she’d been celebrating—or grieving—she was holding it close to her. He again chose to not answer Emma’s last question. He didn’t want to be the bearer of more bad news, and they were pulling into the station now. Someone else could fill her in during processing. He’d had enough of being the bad guy, even if he was just doing his job.