Imani rolled down her window.
“I told you to go right to Landon’s,” I said, getting off my bike and standing by her door.
“I was heading there, but”—she hiked her thumb back—“I kinda got stopped.”
“Does he have your license?”
“Yes.”
“s**t,” I said underneath my breath.
“Why? What’s wrong?”
I didn’t want to worry her, but this wasn’t good. Not at f*****g all.
When the cop stepped out of his car, dressed like a fool in a Redwood Police uniform, I reached behind me for my gun in case things headed south from here.
cop He walked up to us and handed Imani her license. “Everything looks good. Make sure you’re going the speed limit next time.”
“She was speeding?” I asked, pushing him. “By how much?”
“Seven miles over the speed limit.”
“So, thirty-two miles per hour?”
The cop rocked b
