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Protect and Serve

Pulling the van over to the side of the road, Stan opened the driver’s door and vomited again, though only a thin slimy drool of saliva came out of him. Wiping his mouth, he sat up and closed the door. “What the hell did that broad do to me?” he asked aloud. Despite just upchucking, his queasiness was beginning to abate and his equilibrium returning.

Putting the van back into gear, he pulled away from the curb. There was definitely some shady shit going on at the house and there was no doubt in his mind Oliver was in it up to his ball bag. No way on Earth was anyone, hot chicks or not, no way he was going to remain idle.

A police car drove past him, wheeling around abruptly, red and blue lights coming on.

“What the fuck? School zone or something?” he muttered, pulling the van over to the side of the road, setting it to park before shutting off the engine and rolling the window down.

The patrol car pulled in behind him.

Looking in the side view mirror, he watched the police officer get out of the car. Tall and filling out the uniform superbly, she put her hat on, pulling her long sandy brown ponytail through the strap at the back before approaching the driver’s side of the van, right hand curled around the handle of her pistol.

Placing his hands at ten and two on the steering wheel, he waited for her.

Peering in through the glass to ensure there was only one occupant, the female officer, stood next to the driver’s door, “Driver’s license and registration,” she requested, voice authoritative, but in a sultry way.

Turning his head to look at her, “Um yeah, sure,” he replied, glancing at the name on the cloth tag Velcroed to the body armor over her uniform, “Officer Chappell. I’ll have to reach into my back pocket for my wallet and the registration is in the glove box,” he said, moving his right hand slowly back to his right rear pocket. “What is this about?” he inquired, looking up at a very pretty face partially concealed by mirrored sunglasses.

“Your license and documentation please sir,” she repeated with a measure of annoyance in her strict tone.

“Sure, sure,” he replied, shifting on the seat to retrieve his wallet before fishing out his license and handing it to her. His stomach churned and he felt he might heave again but he concealed it behind a friendly smile.

Taking his license with her left hand, right hand still on her gun, “Have you had anything to drink today Mr. Taylor?” she inquired.

Bending forward, he reached over and popped open the glove box, taking out the vehicle’s registration, “Just coffee,” he answered with a chuckle, holding out the paperwork in the plastic holder.

Nodding, she collected the registration also with her left hand. “This will take a few minutes,” she informed before retreating to her cruiser.

Glancing up in the rearview mirror, Stan muttered to himself, his head growing clearer, an unsettling feeling took up root in the pit of his stomach as he strummed his fingers over the top of the steering wheel. He still did not know why she had pulled him over. Was he all over the road? Dammit, why was this taking so long?

After what seemed an inordinate amount of time, he saw her get back out of the car. Walking back up to his window, her body language much more relaxed as she presented him with both his license and registration.

“Thanks,” he replied, taking the documents.

“Is that your current address?” she inquired.

“Yes,” he answered, sliding his license back into his wallet and tucking it into his back pocket.

“Just passing through?” she queried, leaning an arm against the van.

“More or less,” he answered, dropping the plastic envelope with the vehicle’s registration papers on the passenger seat.

“Which is it? More, or less?” she asked.

“Sorry?” he responded, uncertain of what it is was she was trying to get at.

“Are you staying somewhere local, a hotel perhaps?” she questioned.

Smiling, “Haven’t really sorted that out yet,” he replied.

“I see,” she commented, nodding slowly and removing her reflective sunglasses offering him a generous smile.

She certainly was a stunning woman, exceedingly attractive and easily on par with the psychobabes at the sorority house… Holy shit! She was one of them, or at the very least in league with them. “Yeah, not sure I’m going to stick around though,” he babbled, shaking his head.

“Too bad,” she purred, giving him a half smile.

Why did he feel like a fly in a web? Should he? Damned straight. “You never mentioned why you pulled me over in the first place?”

“Oh,” she resumed her full smile, “a vehicle fitting this description was reported stolen earlier today,” she answered smoothly.

Bullshit! Those bitches were checking up on him. He gave her a broad grin, “Wow, well I appreciate you doing your job,” he praised.

“My pleasure,” she replied, pulling a business card out of pocket on her vest and presenting it to him.

Taking the card, “What’s this?” he asked.

Arching an eyebrow, “My information, in case you decide you want to stick around,” she explained.

Grinning back, “Thanks,” he answered, reading the card, “Jill.”

Leaning back, she nodded.

“Guess I should be on my way then,” he stated, turning on the van.

Pulling out, he caught sight of her in the rearview mirror; her arms folded across her chest, she watched him depart. His heart was beating like crazy.

Deliberately taking a circuitous route toward the freshman dorms where Deacon shared the room with Oliver, he parked a ways away, walking back on foot. There was definitely some shit afoot and he felt like he had stepped squarely in it. Stopping at the door, he pulled out his cell phone and called up Samantha’s contact, hitting the call button. Fuck international charges. The call went to voice mail. “Sam, call me the moment you get this,” he said, ending the call and entering the dorm. Whatever it was the gray haired broad had done, his head felt clear now tough definitely paranoid.

Stopping outside Oliver and Deacon’s door, he knocked twice and entered without waiting for a reply. Seeing a pretty little girl he did not know seated on the edge of Oliver’s bed, Stan pulled up short, eyes darting to Deacon seated on the other bed.

“Stan, this Cady,” Deacon introduced.

Nice to make your acquaintance,” she offered, rising to her feet and extending a hand.

That knot in Stan’s gut tightened, accepting the girl’s hand and giving it a shake. Was she one of them?

  

 

Chapter End Notes:

Next chapter, Sersei gets some alone time with Oliver...

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