My gaze whips to Dad and panic sets in as I think about Trips past brushes with the law. I don’t want him to get into any trouble over Jackson. “You called the cops?”
He nods. “I had to, honey. There’s no way I can get involved physically. Besides, after what Jackson did to Max, the cops need to witness his handiwork. That boy needs to serve a little time.”
The first thought that enters my mind is Trip’s past. He’s been in trouble for this sort of thing before. If the police show up and see this, his past may cause him major problems.
I rush off the porch and my dad yells for me to stop, but I don’t listen. My own safety isn’t important right now. I reach Trip just as I hear a car coming down the long gravel driveway. He’s so focused on hurting Jackson that he’s oblivious to everything else going on around him.
I grab his arm and pull. “Trip, let him go. The cops are coming. They can’t see you like this.”
It takes a couple more hard tugs before he realizes I’m right there with him. “Holly, get back. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
I shake my head furiously. “No. Not until you back away from him. He’s not worth it, Trip. Come on. Please,” I beg.
Trip’s gaze shoots from me to Jackson and then back to me before he releases his fingers. Jackson gasps for air and begins to cough, while Trip stares down at his hands. “What the hell am I doing?” It’s almost as if he’s whispering to himself more than me.
I help him up to his feet just as a police cruiser skids to a stop in the gravel in front of us. A young male officer jumps from the car and leaves his door wide open as he slaps his hat on his head and approaches Trip and I, his hand near the gun holstered on his side. The distinct sound of hard-rock music blasts from the car, like the guy was pumping himself up on the ride out here.
The stocky cop is about half a foot shorter than Trip’s six-foot height, but appears to be about the same age. The officer’s brown eyes roam around, accessing the situation before his sights turn back to Trip and I. I stand behind Trip, clinging to his arm, while the cop determines if the tattooed man standing before him is an immediate threat.
The cop clears his throat. “I’m Officer King. What’s going on out here?”
I open my mouth to explain, but Trip beats me to the punch. “This guy”—he points down at Jackson—“came out here uninvited and started beating on our friend over there for no reason.”
Officer King nods. “I see, and I suppose you stopped it?”
“Yes. I couldn’t stand by and let him get away with hurting my friend. Max has a restraining order against him. It should be on file.”
Jackson pushes himself up at the same time Max does. I race over to Max and help him to his feet. “Are you okay?”
Max nods. “I think so. It’s not as bad as last time. Thank God for Trip, huh?”
I hug Max. “I’m so glad you’re okay. Maybe now the law will actually do something about Jackson.”
“On your feet,” the officer commands while glaring down at Jackson. “I need to see some identification from all of you.” The guys all fish their wallets from their back pockets and hands Officer King their drivers licenses. “You all stay put while I run these through.”
Max and I walk over and stand next to Trip, while Jackson keeps a safe distance, leaning against his car.
Trips clamps Max’s shoulder. “You all right, buddy?”
Max winces and Trip offers an apologetic frown. “I’m okay. Thank you for what you did. I owe you one.”
“Any friend of Holly’s, is a friend of mine.” He slings his arm over my shoulders and pulls me into him.
Max grins at me. “Your girl, huh? I always knew you had a thing for him. I should start a dating service with my mad relationship-predicting skills.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re lucky you’re wounded, because that would’ve earned you a smack.”
Max laughs and then winces as he grabs his ribs. “You know you love me.”
Trip and I both chuckle. It’s good to see Max hasn’t lost his playful spirit, and my heart aches knowing he’s been going through hell for so long and I didn’t stop it.
A moment later, the officer returns from his vehicle with a mean scowl on his face. He hands Max back his license first and then turns to Jackson, “I’m going to need you to turn around and place your hands behind your back.”
My mouth drops open at the same time Max says, “Holy shit.”
“My thoughts exactly,” I say as I watch the cop cuff Jackson’s hands behind his back.
“You can’t do this, you know,” Jackson says over his shoulder to Office King, who is busy reading him the Miranda rights. “Do you know who I am? You won’t be able to hold me long. I have money and lawyers.”
Officer King tightens the cuffs and Jackson winces. “I know exactly who you are. Ask me if I give two shits that you’re some dirt bike hot shot. We have pictures on file of what you did to Max over there. We’ve been looking for you. Seems you’ve been hiding from us over the last week. The guys down at the station will be happy to finally meet you, especially your new cellmates. They love meeting celebrities who hate homosexuals.”
“No. You can’t do this. Please,” Jackson begs as the cop leads him to the back of the cruiser and shoves him inside. I chuckle when the door slams in his face.