Smoke was probably trailing behind her, she was so freaking pissed. Gibson had gone after those guys in the shop like some rabid bulldog, and not only had he gotten himself punched, he’d gotten picked up by the cops. She’d told him to walk away and it’d been like she’d said nothing at all. They could be home right now having a nice night together. But no, they were here. Because of male fucking pride. One of the officers had come out a few minutes ago to let her know that the other guys weren’t going to press charges. The store clerk had given a statement that the truckers had been giving Sam trouble. There was video. So that was a huge relief. But Gibson was still back in the bowels of the tiny building, finishing up giving his own statement. And she was stuck here. She hated police stations. Goose bumps had prickled her skin since the moment she’d walked in. The smell of the place the same as all the others—old paper, stale coffee, and astringent cleaning products.
