LOL: Laugh Out Loud (After Oscar, #2)(3)
“Let go,” I warned, shoving him off with a shoulder. “You don’t want a piece of this, man. We’re in the middle of something here.”
“Waylon!” the other man shouted from behind us. “Jump off, dude. That man is fucking insane.”
“He’s right,” I growled, trying again to keep the tourist from grabbing at me to stay on the carriage bench. “Crazy.”
“Get the hell off of him,” came the now-familiar voice behind us.
My knight in navy body armor.
“My parents were right. This city is full of crazies,” the tourist muttered before scrambling down at the next red light.
I yelled after him. “Says the man who double-hijacked a fucking horse and buggy!”
“Double-hijack? What does that even mean?” muttered the cop.
I swiveled and waved a hand between us. “What the hell do you call this? First you carriagejack me; then those idiots pile on. This shit is illegal as I’m sure you know. I’m not even allowed to be on this street right now. Section 20-381.1 of the code states that horse-drawn cabs shall not be driven except for that area inside or immediately adjacent to Central Park between the hours of ten in the morning and—”
He gave an exasperated groan. “Like I give a crap about the horse code. Just drive and stop talking!”
Wasn’t there a saying about all the hot ones being crazy? Or was that only about women? Either way, it was just my luck. I finally got a hot, presumably single man in my horse carriage and he was either a real cop, which meant most likely straight, or a fake cop, which meant soon-to-be incarcerated.
“Hey, listen,” I said over my shoulder. “Before I drop you off, can you come with me really quickly to the nearest precinct office just to verify—”
He shook his head, vehemently. “No deal. I’m undercover. Forget it.”
I glanced back at his very obvious uniform. “I’m not sure you know what the word ‘undercover’ means.”
He looked down at himself and cursed. “Never mind. You don’t understand. This is important.”
I rolled my eyes and made the hand gesture to indicate taking a right on Eleventh, but as soon as I did, the cop-type-person barked out another order. “Left! Go left. It’s… it’s a matter of life and death.”
“Is it though?” I asked while turning left just in case. I’d never been one to disobey the boys in blue. “Is it really?”
“Yes. It really is. If I don’t get off this fucking island right now, someone’s going to die.”
“Is there a getaway boat waiting for you at Chelsea Piers?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
I smothered a chuckle. I didn’t want the guy to think I was disrespecting him. Neither cops nor psychos appreciated disrespect.
“Then you’re hoping the Circle Line or Liberty tour to Ellis Island is the best bet?”
There was a pause before he spoke up. “Um. Wait. Isn’t that where you get the ferry to New Jersey?”
Well, if I wasn’t sure before, I certainly was now. No way this man was an NYPD cop. Which meant he was an imposter. Which meant I was probably in way bigger trouble than I realized. Just my luck.
“No, baby doll. That’s where you get one free drink ticket while snapping pics with Lady Liberty. I believe you’re talking about the Midtown ferry terminal.”
“Oh. Yeah. That’s it. Take me to that one, then. Thanks.”
Seriously? “You do realize I’m not a cab, right?”
He grumbled something in response, but I couldn’t hear what. It didn’t matter; I was done with our little joyride. Hot or not, this dude wasn’t worth me getting in trouble. I started to turn right onto Seventieth, intending to take us back to the park. The fake cop could find some other conveyance to jack if he wanted a ride to the Midtown ferry terminal.
“Hey, wait, where are you going?” he asked as he realized we were headed the wrong way.
Before I could answer, I heard the whoop of a police siren behind me.
“Your friends are here,” I singsonged back at him. “Maybe they can take you the rest of the way.”
“Fuck, keep going! Don’t stop.” He stood up and leaned over my shoulder, reaching for the reins and snapping them on Nugget’s butt.
Nugget jolted through the turn, throwing the cop back into the carriage bench and me nearly off the side of the driver’s seat.
“Woah, woah, girl,” I called to Nugget. But apparently, as soon as we were heading east again, she’d spotted the corner of the park and decided she was done with this stupid jaunt and wanted to return to familiar territory.
There was no stopping her. Even when the cops turned on all flashing lights, loud-as-hell sirens, and called for immediate backup.
I was so fucking screwed.
2
Roman
Hollywood Hottie Roman Burke Hijacks Central Park Carriage!
As I sat in the back of the cop car wondering what the heck my agent was going to say, I glanced at the carriage driver. I’d overheard one of the officers calling him Scotty, but then again, he might have been referring to the horse.
An officer approached the car, and I couldn’t help but eye his uniform. Mine was an exact replica and I made a mental note to give the costume designer props for being so accurate. The cop opened the door and ducked his head inside. “Mr. Burke, my supervisor would like to speak to you at the station house. Would you mind coming with us?”