Read Online The Omega Device (The Ha-Shan Chronicles Book 1) by S.M. Nolan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: S.M. Nolan
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Ashley's eyes narrowed. “Do you get many?”
“'Least one every night,” the driver said. “Though usually more.”
“Lots of drunks like to try and drive and get pretty pissed when we pick them up,” the other cop explained.
“It can be a handful.”
“Yeah, alcoholism's really funny,” Ashley said sarcastically.
“Nah, just the drunks,” the first officer joked, missing her disgust.
“I'm sure,” Ashley said combatively. “Especially when they're dying on the way to jail, right?”
Maggie cringed and hid her face. The two officers exchanged a glance and went quiet. The ride carried on amid an awkward silence that made Maggie eager to throw herself from the moving vehicle. When they finally arrived at the shop, it took all of her strength not to bolt in panic.
She followed Ashley to the door, uneasy about standing in the open, “Was that really necessary?”
Ashley's eyes narrowed above a venomous tongue, “I fucking hate cops, Maggie. You know the shit they've given me. Like I'm some fucking burnt-out 'cause I like to get stoned and draw. Fuck them, and fuck their bullshit. I'm a partner in a successful business and I make more—”
“Ash,” Maggie pled desperately with a look over her shoulder.
“Yeah, alright, fine,” Ashley pushed the door open. “But I fucking hate cops.”
Maggie was relieved to hurry in and shut the door, “You know it has less to do with their uniforms than what they said.”
She followed Ashley to the counter, set down her coat and pack. Maggie gave a quick glance at the front window; two passersby cast shadows through it at them.
“Yeah. Alright. Maybe I went over-the-top,” Ashley shrugged. “But, c'mon, it wasn't funny.”
Maggie's fingers shook subtly as she unzipped her coat, “They're cops, not comedians. You just take it a harder because of your dad.”
“Yeah, maybe, but—” Ashley's phone rang. Maggie's heart jumped. “It's Mandy.”
She answered and stepped away to flip on the shop's lights. Maggie swallowed hard to steady her nerves and switch on the computer behind the counter. The bell on the door rang. Maggie whipped 'round to see Russell enter, a backpack on one shoulder and a briefcase on the other.
“Didn't mean to startle you,”
She steadied herself on the counter, “It's not your fault.”
He managed a weak smile, “It's good to see you, at least.”
“Really not sure I can say the same. No offense.”
Her lips quivered in an attempt to smile. She gave up, sat on a stool. Ashley returned from the back room, eyes on her phone, “Mandy's on her way back. Her class got out early so she's—” She spotted Russell, “Oh great, you're here.”
He cast Maggie a curious look, “Yeah, just walked in.”
“Well? Can we go back to our lives now?”
Maggie flailed a hand as it rose to her forehead, “Don't mind her, she just hates your uniform.”
Russell acknowledged with a nod, “Oh, blue's not your color.” He set his briefcase on the counter, sat down, “I understand.”
“Really?” she chided with a raised brow.
“Ashley, just stop it,” Maggie pled, fingers white against her head. She bit at her lip-ring with fresh tension.
“No, it's alright. I understand.” He looked to Ashley, “I'm the scum of the universe, right? 'Cause I'm a cop? I know how we look; doughnut powdered, tax-wasting bile flooding the streets. Hell, most days we're too busy getting off on scaring some poor bastard with a dead tail-light to notice the half-dozen murders. Fuck, when I think about it, I don't really like us either.”
Ashley's eyes were ablaze above her flaring nostrils.
Russell leaned toward her nearly whispering, “But here's the thing… my gun may look like it functions solely as an extension of my penis, but it can also save your friend's life. Yours too. So let's all pretend to get along, okay?”
Maggie's jaw clenched. Her eyes darted between the two. They stared one another down. Maggie chewed her
“'Least one every night,” the driver said. “Though usually more.”
“Lots of drunks like to try and drive and get pretty pissed when we pick them up,” the other cop explained.
“It can be a handful.”
“Yeah, alcoholism's really funny,” Ashley said sarcastically.
“Nah, just the drunks,” the first officer joked, missing her disgust.
“I'm sure,” Ashley said combatively. “Especially when they're dying on the way to jail, right?”
Maggie cringed and hid her face. The two officers exchanged a glance and went quiet. The ride carried on amid an awkward silence that made Maggie eager to throw herself from the moving vehicle. When they finally arrived at the shop, it took all of her strength not to bolt in panic.
She followed Ashley to the door, uneasy about standing in the open, “Was that really necessary?”
Ashley's eyes narrowed above a venomous tongue, “I fucking hate cops, Maggie. You know the shit they've given me. Like I'm some fucking burnt-out 'cause I like to get stoned and draw. Fuck them, and fuck their bullshit. I'm a partner in a successful business and I make more—”
“Ash,” Maggie pled desperately with a look over her shoulder.
“Yeah, alright, fine,” Ashley pushed the door open. “But I fucking hate cops.”
Maggie was relieved to hurry in and shut the door, “You know it has less to do with their uniforms than what they said.”
She followed Ashley to the counter, set down her coat and pack. Maggie gave a quick glance at the front window; two passersby cast shadows through it at them.
“Yeah. Alright. Maybe I went over-the-top,” Ashley shrugged. “But, c'mon, it wasn't funny.”
Maggie's fingers shook subtly as she unzipped her coat, “They're cops, not comedians. You just take it a harder because of your dad.”
“Yeah, maybe, but—” Ashley's phone rang. Maggie's heart jumped. “It's Mandy.”
She answered and stepped away to flip on the shop's lights. Maggie swallowed hard to steady her nerves and switch on the computer behind the counter. The bell on the door rang. Maggie whipped 'round to see Russell enter, a backpack on one shoulder and a briefcase on the other.
“Didn't mean to startle you,”
She steadied herself on the counter, “It's not your fault.”
He managed a weak smile, “It's good to see you, at least.”
“Really not sure I can say the same. No offense.”
Her lips quivered in an attempt to smile. She gave up, sat on a stool. Ashley returned from the back room, eyes on her phone, “Mandy's on her way back. Her class got out early so she's—” She spotted Russell, “Oh great, you're here.”
He cast Maggie a curious look, “Yeah, just walked in.”
“Well? Can we go back to our lives now?”
Maggie flailed a hand as it rose to her forehead, “Don't mind her, she just hates your uniform.”
Russell acknowledged with a nod, “Oh, blue's not your color.” He set his briefcase on the counter, sat down, “I understand.”
“Really?” she chided with a raised brow.
“Ashley, just stop it,” Maggie pled, fingers white against her head. She bit at her lip-ring with fresh tension.
“No, it's alright. I understand.” He looked to Ashley, “I'm the scum of the universe, right? 'Cause I'm a cop? I know how we look; doughnut powdered, tax-wasting bile flooding the streets. Hell, most days we're too busy getting off on scaring some poor bastard with a dead tail-light to notice the half-dozen murders. Fuck, when I think about it, I don't really like us either.”
Ashley's eyes were ablaze above her flaring nostrils.
Russell leaned toward her nearly whispering, “But here's the thing… my gun may look like it functions solely as an extension of my penis, but it can also save your friend's life. Yours too. So let's all pretend to get along, okay?”
Maggie's jaw clenched. Her eyes darted between the two. They stared one another down. Maggie chewed her
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