Master of Lust

Chapter - 257

Rick drove the Range Rover, his hands steady on the wheel, occasionally glancing at Sharon as she sat beside him, silent and unmoved. Her gaze remained fixed on her Harley, which was strapped to the back of the pickup truck ahead of them, but her mind was far from just the bike. She hadn't responded to any of Rick's small talk, his attempts to break the ice falling flat.

Rick had tried cracking a few light jokes but Sharon wasn't biting. He could sense the tension in the air, but he didn't push any harder. Still, he wore that faint smirk, like he was enjoying the awkwardness or perhaps just testing her patience.

Sharon's thoughts, however, were a tangled mess of confusion and suspicion. Why was Rick helping her? She was a cop, tailing him relentlessly, trying to find something, anything, to tie him to the suspicious dealings that Warner had warned her about. Rick had led her on a wild chase, lured her into that building and embarrassed her, yet here he was—helping her fix her bike like they were old friends. What was his game?

Her eyes flicked to the smooth interior of the Range Rover for a second before returning to her Harley. It was a luxury car, far too expensive for a college student with no rich family or connections. Where had Rick gotten the money? It couldn't have come from anything clean. The commissioner suspects that Rick is involved in something big, something dirty. But what if Rick was just in over his head? Could he have witnessed something? Maybe he was paid off to keep quiet—or maybe he blackmailed someone. Is he connected to the Warners in any way? Maybe that is they are after him?

The truck that had tried to run Rick down last night flashed in her mind. Was it connected to all this? Maybe Rick had pushed his luck too far with whoever he was mixed up with,and now they wanted him out of the picture. Or perhaps he was part of something he shouldn't have been able to walk away from, and now they were after him.

Explore hidden tales at My Virtual Library Empire

And why was Rick being so nice? She couldn't shake the feeling that there was something off. Was this some elaborate act to throw her off his trail? Was he trying to lull her into a false sense of security, hoping she'd stop investigating him? Or was it genuine, his way of trying to clear any suspicion?

Sharon's jaw clenched as these thoughts swirled around in her head. She didn't like this uncertainty. She was trained to trust her instincts, but right now, her instincts were pulling her in too many directions at once.

Suddenly, Sharon broke the silence. "How the hell did you figure out I was following you?" Her voice was sharp, and she didn't even bother to hide her frustration. "When did you know? I was careful—I kept my distance, covered my face, everything. And yet…" Her words trailed off, demanding an answer.

Rick chuckled, glancing at her briefly before returning his eyes to the road. "Is this your first time trailing someone?"

Sharon shot him a dissatisfied look, she wasn't amused.

Still smirking, Rick explained, "Yes, you did follow me with enough distance—I'll give you that—but come on. A woman dressed head to toe in black leather spandex, riding a Harley in this sunny place? Not exactly the most inconspicuous look."

Sharon's lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn't interrupt.

Rick continued, clearly enjoying himself. "I caught on to you pretty quickly. Moments after I left my apartment for the hospital, actually. You followed me through every turn, which only made me more suspicious. And let's not forget—Harleys aren't exactly silent machines. They're pretty bad choices for tailing someone unnoticed."

Sharon's frown deepened as Rick's explanation sunk in. She had prided herself on her skills, yet somehow, Rick had turned the tables on her, and now he was sitting here, making light of it.

As they arrived at the repair shop, Sharon was a little surprised. The place was nothing like she had expected. Instead of a run-down, shady garage, it was a well-maintained shop with a good number of modern tools and equipment. Several workers bustled around, tending to various vehicles. It was clear from the number of cars there and the organized setup that the shop had a decent reputation. Rick had been right about the mechanic.

After offloading her Harley from the pickup, the mechanic began inspecting the bike. But Sharon, not trusting anyone, stood right next to him, watching his every move like a hawk. Her piercing gaze unsettled the mechanic, who finally stammered, "Uh, easy there, ma'am. I can't work with you looking at me like that… My hands are shaking here. Why don't you, uh, take a step back? I swear, I won't do anything wrong with the bike. Nobody in their right mind would mess with a cop."

Despite his nervous plea and Rick's attempt to ease her, Sharon didn't budge. Her eyes remained fixed on the mechanic as he nervously continued his work, his hands trembling under her intense scrutiny.@@novelbin@@

Suddenly, a trailer pulled into the shop, towing a car behind it. As the car came to a stop, the entire shop was hit with a revolting stench. It was unbearable. All the workers, Rick, and even Sharon instinctively covered their noses. Some of the workers began to protest, but a customer, Toby, who was well-known around the shop, stepped out and begged, "Come on, guys! I've been a loyal customer for years! You've got to help me out this time!"

Toby, looking dishevelled and distraught, explained the situation. "My ex-wife—who was cheating on me, by the way—drove my car into a swamp after she lost the divorce settlement. I just need it fixed. Please."

Rick, still holding his nose, turned to Sharon with a smirk. "So… do you still want to hang out here and enjoy the glorious stink?"

Sharon gave him a sideways glance, clearly torn between keeping an eye on her bike and not wanting to stand in the nauseating smell any longer. Finally, she sighed and said, "Fine. Where can we go?"

"There's a nice café nearby," Rick said casually. "I haven't had lunch yet, and I'm pretty hungry."

Sharon, thinking for a moment, realized that she hadn't had a proper meal either. She'd only grabbed a few bites here and there since she started trailing Rick yesterday. She was overdue for a good meal. Reluctantly, she nodded and followed Rick out of the shop, the overwhelming stench quickly fading behind them.

At the café, Rick and Sharon sat across from each other at a small table, the aroma of fresh coffee and sizzling sandwiches filling the air. Rick picked up his coffee, watching Sharon as she sipped hers. He raised an eyebrow, a mischievous smirk forming on his lips.

"Really?" Rick said, leaning back. "You're drinking a caramel macchiato? I thought you'd go for something stronger like a double espresso or an Americano. Y'know, something with a bit more kick."

Sharon gave him a sideways glance, clearly unimpressed by the comment. She took another sip of her coffee, keeping her serious expression as if she had no time for his playful remarks.

Rick, undeterred, leaned forward slightly. "You know," he began, his tone softening, "I've gotta say… you've got great hair. It suits you. And that jacket—looks pretty damn good on you. You pull it off well."

Sharon didn't answer, but she hid her annoyance. She kept drinking her coffee, her mind seemingly elsewhere, though Rick could tell she was listening. Sensing a slight opening, he continued to talk casually, occasionally throwing a glance at her as if gauging her reaction.

As Rick tried to ease the tension with small compliments, Sharon finally spoke, but not in the way Rick had anticipated. Her voice was calm, but there was a sense of calculation behind her words.

"You seem like a nice guy," she said, locking eyes with Rick. "Honestly, I don't believe you're as bad as the commissioner and the others make you out to be."

Rick raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the sudden shift. Sharon leaned forward slightly, her voice dropping as if she were trying to draw him in.

"You can trust me," she continued. "I know you're in trouble, Rick. I saw the truck incident yesterday with my own eyes. That wasn't an accident. The driver wasn't just careless… it was an attempt to kill you, plain and simple. You and I both know that."

Rick's face tightened slightly, but he remained silent.

"But here's the thing," Sharon said, her gaze unwavering. "You reported it as an accident this morning. That tells me you're in deep trouble. You know who's after you, but you can't—or won't—say it. Maybe because they're dangerous, powerful, and you can't afford to make any more enemies. Or maybe you're afraid of what might happen if you go up against them."

Rick stayed quiet, though his fingers lightly tapped the edge of his cup. Sharon leaned even closer, her voice softer now, almost reassuring.

"Look, Rick, if you tell me the truth, I can help you. I can make you a witness, get you protection. I'll take down whoever's after you, no matter how powerful they are. You don't have to face this alone. I can protect you… but you have to trust me."

Sharon's words hung in the air. Rick's expression didn't give much away, but his gaze was intense, clearly weighing her offer. Sharon, for her part, sat patiently, waiting for his response, thinking she had pushed a critical button.