What a Fool Believes (2 page)

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Authors: Carmen Green

BOOK: What a Fool Believes
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She reached into the backseat, grabbed one of her brand-new knives, and went to Dante's Lexus convertible.
The car was his.
She positioned the knife.
But the tires were hers.
She took a long, cleansing breath and plunged.
Chapter Two
The fourth tire on the Lexus deflated, and Tia began to shake. Revenge was exhausting.
She tried not to scratch her bald vagina and wondered how Rachel and Megan could stand not having hair down there.
They were freaks, and she wasn't.
But she was pissed off.
Tia used the end of the knife and scratched
A S S
-
H O L E
into the shiny black finish. Her work here was done.
As she moved toward her car, her adrenaline high evaporated, and sanity moved in. This was crazy.
At this point in her life, she should have had enough faith that God had a foolproof punishment plan to deal with male infidels. But God was taking His time, and as far as she was concerned, unless Dante broke out in a head-to-foot case of psoriasis, He might not mind her help this one time.
In the darkness, she tried to appear casual as she looked for her midnight blue Accord as a vehicle crept around the corner and moved up slowly on her left side.
Tia's mouth dried. Maybe slashing the tires hadn't been such a good idea, considering she had the potential of getting mugged, caught, or worse.
She walked faster as the cruising vehicle veered toward her, and the window went down.
Her mind screamed,
Duck! Drive by!
and she dropped everything, preparing for a nosedive, when searing pain shot through her foot.
It took all of a second for the cop to spot her handiwork.
“Did you do that?” he asked indignantly.
Pain made her grunt, and she quickly concluded two things.
One, she didn't want to go to jail. And, two, when caught in the act of committing a crime, never abandon the tools of the trade recklessly.
“Is that your car?”
“No, but those are my tires.”
“Tomato. Tomahto. Turn around and put your hands behind your head.”
“I'm allergic to penicillin.”
“So?”
The harsh cruiser lights flickered over the officer's stern face. He approached with his billy club in the cocked and ready position.
“After you arrest me, I'll need stitches.”
“If you don't give me any trouble, you won't have to worry about that. Now turn around. You're under arrest.”
Tia lifted her knife-embedded foot and completed a quarter turn before she fainted into the officer's chest.
Chapter Three
Officer Byron Rivers waited outside the ER exam room while his prisoner sat inside, getting her foot stitched.
His mouth stayed tense with attitude, and he regretted this entire night.
Regretted reporting to work.
Regretted patrolling the condo parking lot.
Regretted catching the woman vandalizing.
He just wanted to go home. The Lakers were playing tonight.
His biggest regret was not setting TiVo to record the game. He'd been so sure he'd be home by tip-off.
Damn.
This lady was in a lot of trouble, but he couldn't help but complete his list of regrets.
He regretted scaring her so badly that she dropped the knife that gashed her foot, which caused her to faint, which made him think she was hitting on him, which made him elbow her in the eye, which made her injuries worse than they should have been.
Why had he thought her capable of such a lame ploy?
Because she was a woman, and women were the masters at playing the sympathy symphony.
Okay. He'd made an honest mistake.
But no one would see it that way. This was the second time in thirty days that one of his prisoners had been on the receiving end of his reflexes, and his new captain would have something to say about that.
The rest of the events ran play by play through his mind.
When she'd fainted, he'd swept her up against his chest.
Her breasts rose and fell in a smooth, slow rhythm. He'd held her there, his first aid training gone, before reality slapped him into the present, and he'd called for an ambulance.
He'd perched her atop the hood, his thigh at the center of her body, his left hand across her midriff.
In warmer temperatures, under different circumstances, he could conceive of them on a journey to intimacy. But the situation wasn't ever going to be like that.
This lady was a woman scorned, and she was going to jail.
He was in trouble, too, but that didn't matter right now.
He nudged the exam room door open and stuck his head inside. “How're things coming along?”
“We'll be a while,” Dr. Khan said, bent over the woman's foot.
“You in a rush to blacken my other eye?” the woman asked.
Chocolate. Her right eye, her good eye, was a delicious-looking chocolate. Byron tried to speak quietly. “I already apologized for elbowing you.”
“I don't see how you could think I was going to do something to you, you big baby!” Tia tried to cover her mouth, but her handcuffed wrist stopped her.
Her gaze darted from her arm to him, and he shuffled his feet. She was about to blow.
“You have a right to be angry.” He knew those were the wrong words before they'd completely fallen from his mouth.
“You bet I do,” she yelled. “These cuffs are for total humiliation, right? I guess I'll hop on my one good foot, with my one good eye to guide me, and make a break for it.” She shook her head, disgusted.
“I'm just doing my job.”
“Yeah, well, you're superior at it. Feel better?”
An internal war waged. He'd get in big trouble if anyone found out, but she was pretty much incapacitated.
“I'm taking these off because”—
I'm a sucker
, he thought but didn't say it—“you should be more comfortable.” The toe of his shoe rammed the bottom of the steel bed frame. Noise reverberated upward, and annoyance flashed across her pretty face.
Guilt be damned. She hated him. Snatching his pad from his pocket, he clicked his Bic and noticed that she'd put her hospital gown on backward.
Officer Rivers did the unthinkable.
He peeked.
She jerked the gown closed.
“I wasn't looking at your bra,” he snapped.
“Right, and my eye is black because
I ran
into your elbow.”
“You
did
fall into me.”
“Because I was stabbed,” she told him, as if he were the biggest knucklehead in the world.
Dr. Khan, who'd kept quiet, patted the woman's arm, sharing a bond. “Now, now. You mustn't get worked up again.”
“Dr. Khan, I've never been worked up in my life.” She breathed hard and fanned herself. “But I've had it with men who don't take responsibility for their actions. Frankly, it feels good to say exactly what's on my mind. Now beat it, Pinko,” she snarled at Byron. “I'll be ready for jail when I get done.”
Barracuda woman had returned.
“I was going to go easy on you—”
“Right. I just got my two front teeth capped. Want to knock them down my throat with your big stick?”
The doctor burst out laughing.
Byron walked into the hallway and slammed the door.
It popped open. He slammed it again and stalked to the coffee machine, where he shoved in quarters.
Women were nothing but trouble. He knew firsthand. He had four sisters, and they were the source of enough aggravation to choke a horse.
Where were the women of the fifties? Sweet, nice women who enjoyed being women? Every day he met women who fought, cursed, and handled themselves like mini men. He didn't get it. And then, there were the psychos.
Angry lady down the hall would get what she deserved when she went to jail.
He drank his coffee, then spit the searing liquid back into the cup. Man! This woman was pissing him off. It would be his pleasure to process her into jail. Vandalism wasn't a felony, so she'd be in holding until she made bail, but that would be enough to diffuse her mean streak.
Back at the exam room, Byron raised his pad and stared at the blank sheet.
Damn.
He still didn't have her name.
“You wrote on his car?” he heard Dr. Khan ask the woman.
“Yes.”
“And slashed his tires?”
“He gave me crabs and trich. And he still has my new duvet.”
Byron frowned, his judgment shifting, although he told it not to. Truth was, the creep deserved to get his car redecorated. But that didn't negate the fact that her actions were still against the law.
“Good for you,” the doc said. “This is going to hurt, but once it's numb, I'll stitch you up, and you can go home ... on your way.”
“To jail,” the woman corrected, sounding teary.
Here come the waterworks. Good
. She'd brought this on herself. He steeled himself against his main weakness.
“Ow. Ow. Ow. Cripes, that hurts,” she wailed.
“It's not Rivers's fault, you know,” Dr. Khan told her.
“Don't defend
Officer Enthusiastic
. He should have asked me why I was there. Youch! How many of those blasted things do I need?”
“Shoe minimized the damage. Thirteen, maybe fifteen.”
“Do you think he'll take me directly to jail?” Byron's heart tripped over the vulnerable question.
“Definitely. He's a real stickler.”
“So you've dealt with him before?”
“His detainees. Six weeks ago, then again last month.”
“Boy, do I feel lucky,” she said, half crying now. “My ex gave me a communicable insect, and my arresting officer gets frequent visitor points when he brings a prisoner to the ER. This sucks.”
Byron didn't want to agree, but what could he say? Her eye was wearing his elbow print.
“Why don't you rest, and I'll finish up? You'll be home in no time.”
“Yeah, after I spend the night in jail with a butch named Alice. Oh, God. I can't believe this is happening,” she sobbed. “My stomach is burning like crazy. Can I get some antacid?”
“Sure.”
Dr. Khan got her history and then called a nurse. Byron stepped aside as her request was delivered.
Great. She probably had a bleeding ulcer she hadn't known about before tonight. Byron threw his head back, his mind closing the door on the hope that he'd catch the last quarter of the game.
Dr. Khan chuckled. “I'll give you a mild painkiller, and you should sleep fine.”
“It's not the sleeping I'm worried about. It's the
where
that scares me.”
“When you come see me in a week, you'll feel differently. Have you ever taken an anger management class?” Doctor Khan spoke with deceptive casualness.
“No. Why?”
“You're still angry.”
“
I
didn't cheat on
me
. So why should I go to some class?”
“Your ex is guilty of being a bad man, yet it is you who is under arrest. This is your first offense, right?”
“I've never done anything like this before. I guess I just snapped.”
“Last stitch,” Dr. Khan said softly. “We'll get you situated with some crutches and a prescription.”
“Do you have samples? I don't think I'll have access to the drive-through pharmacy on my way to the county lockup.”
Dr. Khan made soothing noises to the weeping woman. “No problem. Come to my office in one week for your checkup. The nurse will get you a new top. Yours was ruined.”
He'd used the cotton top to stanch the flow of blood, but would she believe him if he told her?
Byron couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking. He was thinking he was a schmuck, no different from the vandalized former boyfriend.
“I'll be back in a moment.” Dr. Khan stepped into the hallway and pulled Byron into the exam room two doors down.
The East Indian woman gave him a smile, her dark eyes accentuated by stylish black glasses frames. “She's had a rough night,” Dr. Khan began. “She needs to rest and stay off that foot. Now we can do this one of two ways. You can give her a ticket and see her home, or I can admit her to the hospital.”
“There's nothing wrong with her.”
“Her blood pressure is up. Or something like that,” she said slyly.
“Come on, Khan, I can't just let her go.”
The doctor shrugged, unmoved. “What she did was better than what could have happened to him in my country.”
“I thought the women were all subservient in India.” Byron bit his tongue and tasted the bitter juice of badly chosen words. “Forget I said that.”
“Certainly. I'm not excusing her behavior, just saying that she needs a break. Work with me?”
“Fine.” He threw up his hands and shook his head. “What's her full name? I'll give her a ticket and see her in court.”
“First is Tia. Didn't get the last one. It's on the chart. Thanks, Rivers. I owe you one.”
They walked back to the exam room and went inside. The bed was empty, the gown discarded. Both reached for the chart and stared at the empty door folder.
Dr. Khan looked up at him, a mysterious smile on her face. “I guess I underestimated her.”
Damn
. He wouldn't even catch the game highlights on ESPN.
Byron headed for the exit. “She won't get away with this.”

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