Daddy's Law

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Six Months Ago, Briarville, CA

Looking back, I had to admit stealing a car wasn’t the brightest thing I had ever done.

I was the bad girl.

User.

Hell-raiser.

Thief.

Stealing a car and wrecking it was just supersizing the pattern of bad judgment calls I had been making since I graduated high school. But to say my doing so would surprise fellow citizens of Briarville, not to mention my family, would be a lie.

Let’s be real. I didn’t get smarter when I drank.

I’d pegged my country boy mark for the night back at the Saloon, the best place in town to find a sucker whose common sense was easily overridden by the urge to part my thighs and plunge deep. All it took was a little dirty talking, “You get me so hot. I need you right now,” and I had him hook, line and sinker. It didn’t hurt that he stood on sturdy viking legs and his open, plaid shirt revealed a muscular chest covered in crisp brown hair. If I squinted just right, I could almost imagine he were someone I’d pretended to forget, someone sent down range by the U.S. Military too far away for even me to flirt with.

So when I imagined this sucker-for-the-night lifting me onto his throbbing c**k, every inch of me lit up with the burning, urgent need to possess him — no matter that he wasn’t who I pretended he was.

He’d do the trick for the evening.

That night, rum and Cokes were my ride, and Forest McGuff was my driver. Forest was sweet, a little dumb, and worked at the auto body shop for my sister’s boyfriend, Jax.

Once I got it in my head I wanted to take the Camaro for a spin, it wasn’t hard to convince him, rubbing my horny mess of a hot body all over his, to take me for a joyride.

Ever since I could remember, I got what I wanted out of men. They were all the same. They lusted after me, and I exploited them. It was a symbiotic relationship, which proved over and over again how magical love was.

Not.

McGuff passed out on the armchair as soon as we got inside the garage, but not before putting the keys to the Camaro Z28 in my palm.

Sweet.

I climbed clumsily behind the wheel and headed out of town toward the river. Squinting, I tried to make the passing headlights keep from doubling, and when I had the foggy road to myself; I straddled the centerline so I didn’t drive off the road.

Why was it all men were the same? I used them, and they used me.

Well, except for one. Dad. But dads didn’t count, obviously. Come to think of it, my dad pretty much gave me everything I wanted as well, he just never used me.

These thoughts were suddenly interrupted when I slammed into a telephone pole. “How the hell did that get there?” I asked intelligently before passing the f**k out.

When I woke up, the headlights of the Camaro were still on, illuminating the Z’s totaled hood and curious cows stood lined up in front of it to gawk at the stupid human.

“You all right? You hurt?”

I blinked into the sharp bright of the industrial-sized flashlight. “Get that damn thing out of my eyes!”

“She’s fine all right. Her usual spitfire self.”

Oh s**t. The second officer to speak was none other than Charlie. He and I grew up together, and sure as s**t he’d be reporting this to Buck.

Buck was my childhood bud, currently stationed in Special Ops overseas. He was the only person I’d ever wanted to live up to. A rock-solid, and I mean very solid, guy I could count on who never gave up on me.

Dammit. This might be enough to make him finally throw in the towel.

“If you blow positive, you are in a heap of trouble, little girl.” Charlie held out the Breathalyzer with one hand and, with the other, reached for my elbow to help me out of the car. I tried to bolt but, in my inebriated state, plopped my a*s smack-dab onto a fresh cow patty.

“Nice try,” said Charlie. “Looks like you’re really up s**t creek now. Stand up and we’ll get you something to sit on in the patrol car. I just washed it.”

Crap. It looked like; finally, I was going to get the punishment I deserved.