Electrify Me (The Fireworks Series Book 1) by Bibi Rizer Page B

died on patrol outside Marjah.”
    His face grows serious. “Did you hurt that girl?”
    “What? No! What do you mean?”
    “What do you think I mean?”
    I have no earthly idea, and I’m not about to start making suggestions. Did I hurt her? I might have in a good way. I don’t think I should say that though.
    “Who gave you the bloody nose?” he asks.
    “You did, didn’t you?”
    The cop bends down, his face inches from mine. His breath smells. Coffee and cigarettes. “Listen, kid. I’ve seen some sexual assault victims in my years on the force, so I know what it looks like, and that girl looked like she was worked over by someone, so I’m asking was it you? Because you had your cock out when we busted in and there’s a condom on the floor that I bet is full of your DNA.”
    Well.
    I might vomit all over this nice man, because reliving the scene from his perspective doesn’t look very good. Did I get all the duct tape off Gloria’s wrists? Does she have bruises? She was crying. Her clothes were all messed up. I think I might have torn her tights. “Is she saying she was assaulted?” I don’t know why she would say that, unless maybe she was. Maybe that tattooed prick did touch her. Why would she tell me? She doesn’t even know me.
    “You tell me,” the cop says, wafting his breath over me again.
    This is some kind of game; and I’m too tired and confused to play it to win. I try to think back to what they taught us in basic about getting captured. Don’t say anything. Name, rank. I’ve already given him that. I’m so thirsty. My mouth tastes of dust and mold, and I’m hyper conscious of the fact that my pants are still hanging open with my Batman boxers showing. Thankfully, at least I don’t have a boner anymore. I’m beginning to think I may never get another one again.
    “That goon in the other room.” I say. “She said he didn’t hurt her, but maybe he did.” I close my eyes. Damned if I’m going to cry in front of this fucker. If he would just un-cuff me, I could kick his doughy ass into next week. And then go Rambo on that drug-fucked deviant.
    “What goon in the other room?”
    “He was the one who stole my truck and kidnapped Gloria. I don’t know what he did. I knocked him out and it was dark and…”
    “What?”
    “Okay, I did have sex with her, but it wasn’t rape.”
    “I’ve heard that before.”
    God.
    “You’re saying you found this girl in the dark, and you just had sex with her? Just like that?”
    It sounds ridiculous, implausible in the extreme. Even if I tell him the whole story, why would he believe it? What if Gloria is saying something else? “Where’s the other guy?” I try to hide the desperation in my voice. Because I’m starting to think maybe I’m seeing this all wrong. Maybe there’s something I’m missing, or I’m delusional. Did I ask her if I could fuck her? I don’t even remember. Everything they ever told us in boot camp about getting enthusiastic consent from your sex partner was a big waste of time, I guess. My head hurts with the effort of trying to put the pieces together. But I think I remember her begging for it.
    “What other guy?” the cop says.
    “The guy in the basement. I knocked him out with a wrench.”
    The cop looks confused for a second, but it passes quickly. “We found a wrench. But there wasn’t anyone else in the house.”
    Fuck. He must have woken up and bailed. Maybe after listening to us fucking for a few minutes. Because I stupidly didn’t tie him up, like I had planned. I want to be un-cuffed bad now so I can slap myself in the head. Some super soldier I turned out to be. My only excuse is that I was out of my mind desperate to find her.
    “Where’s Gloria?” I ask. “She can clear this all up. Can you just talk to her?”
    Maybe she will throw me under the bus. At this point I’ve stopped caring.
     

Chapter Eleven – Gloria
     
    The lady paramedic dabs numbing ointment on my chaffed wrists and bloody