Free Cop a Feel (Handcuffs and Happily Ever Afters) by Robyn Peterman Page B

of therapy and had considered myself cured—till now.
    Now my humanity and my desire to have friends and be loved were slipping through my formerly well-protected cracks. It was more frightening than hand-to-hand combat. Combat had a logical end. Life or death. Being vulnerable to other people was gray and messy and something I had very little experience with. I adored my brother and I loved my boss. Steve had become my de facto father and I knew without a doubt those two men would be there for me no matter how difficult I was. Friends and lovers were another thing altogether.
    How to answer Rena . . . whether to answer Rena . . .
    “It’s too long to go into, but I think I might be finally getting past it.”
    “That’s gonna suck,” she said.
    “What the hell does that mean?” I snapped. She had no fucking clue what she was talking about.
    “Becoming human,” she replied sympathetically. “Risking your heart, not just your life.”
    God, maybe she did know what she was talking about. And maybe she was right.
    “Well, no worries, it will be fine.” She smiled reassuringly and took my hand. “You have me and Kristy and Shoshanna now. You’ll be human in no time.”
    I rolled my eyes and tried to suppress the grin that was coming straight from my lighter heart. “That certainly sounds frightening.”
    “Frightening doesn’t even begin to cover it,” she said, laughing, and yanked me to my feet. “Come on, it’s about time you vomited in your mouth.”
    “I’m sorry. What?”
    “Whoops, I meant it’s time for you to meet Evangeline.”
     
    We signed in at the entrance of the jail and went through the first secure door, which promptly closed and bolted behind us. The second door would open once we’d complied with regulations. The walls were covered in lock boxes, and red security camera lights blinked rapidly in all four corners. I began to disarm.
    “What the fuck? Are we in a cell?” Rena asked, glancing around nervously.
    “Nope.” I laughed. “I figured since you’d been arrested before, you’d know the drill.”
    “Well you figured wrong. I was never convicted of anything and never thrown in the pokey,” she huffed. “Jesus Christ, you’re a freakin’ arsenal.”
    I removed my two guns, my cuffs, and a knife and placed them in a locker. “Give me your purse,” I told her, and removed the folder and a pen from my bag. “We can’t take anything in except my files, but our personal effects will be safe in here and we can get them on the way out.”
    Rena handed me her purse and I locked everything up.
    “Can I have my cell phone? I was hoping to get a photo of the skank.”
    “Nope.” I chuckled and shook my head. “No cell phones. No pictures.”
    “Dammit, I just lost thirty dollars,” she groaned.
    I rolled my eyes and tucked the key in my pocket. As soon as our belongings were stowed away, the second door automatically opened.
    “How did you do that?” she asked, bewildered.
    “I didn’t. The little guy in the camera did.”
    “You’re beginning to sound like my aunt Phyllis. She has Martians in her TV and cyborgs in her toilet.”
    “Awesome.” I knew of her aunt Phyllis. I’d witnessed Phyllis’s brand of crazy during the Bigfoot drug bust. Actually crazy wasn’t remotely accurate, it was more like bat-shit loony, but I did like her. “We’re being monitored and they watched us disarm.”
    “This feels kind of surreal,” Rena whispered, moving closer to me.
    “It is, but we’re completely safe,” I told her, and followed the guard on the other side of the door.
    “You’re here to see Evangeline?” the personality-free female guard grunted as she escorted us to a conference room.
    “Yep.”
    “She’s quite the hit here. Very popular,” the guard gushed with admiration, all of a sudden full of life.
    Rena choked on her own spit and I grabbed her arm before she volunteered something that would get us removed from the premises.
    “You don’t say, um