The Terms of Release Read Online Free PDF

Wilma,” said the man who walked in wearing a county deputy uniform. “Am I too late for pie? I heard it was cherry today.”
    “Howdy, Win. Never too late. Have a sit. Coffee?”
    God, police. Please, just let me sit here.
    “Thanks. I can take it to go if you’re ready to go.” The cop shook Bulldog’s hand and glanced at Sage curiously.
    “Nah, have a sit. We’re solid.”
    Sage nodded once, focusing on his book.
    The cop sat at the counter, which put his back to Sage. Hallelujah .
    Sage kept his head down, but he couldn’t focus, couldn’t actually read even a single word, because his brain was filled with worrying. If he was smart, he’d leave, but then the damned cop might think he’d done something wrong, and he didn’t want that.
    God, his head hurt.
    Soon it would be 9:00 p.m., and then he’d head home so he could have the door locked for lights out and…. No. No, there wasn’t a lights out anymore. He could go home and wait for Dan Henry to lie to him about the weather on KDFW.
    “Sage? You need anything else, honey?”
    “Can I have my second cup, please? Then I’ll get out of your hair.”
    “Of course, darlin’.” Wilma smiled at him, her gold tooth flashing. “How’s the pie?”
    “Delicious, thank you, ma’am.”
    “So polite. I tell my man, I never worry at night now, because Sage is here ’til he comes for me.”
    His cheeks heated, and he ducked his head when the cop glanced back at him, brows raised. “I reckon there are some who’d not say that.”
    “There are a lot of assholes in this fucking town, kid.” Bulldog growled the words, the sound vibrating in the huge man’s chest. “Don’t let them get to you.”
    Wilma hooted. “Preach it, stud. No offense, Win.”
    “Why would I be offended?” the cop said easily, swiveling to grin at them. “I am not an asshole.”
    “Nope. You just wear asshole clothing.” Bulldog gave Win a wicked smile.
    Win, the cop, laughed out loud, the sound strong, like a hooty owl. “Yep. An ex-military guy like me has two choices. Become a tattooed weirdo like you or be a cop.”
    “Poor, poor stupid cop.” Bulldog flexed, the wild ink shifting in the florescent lights. “When you could have been one of my enforcers.”
    “I’m not your type, Bull.” Win winked at Wilma. “I could never compete.”
    Wilma laughed, and Sage ducked his head again, fighting the smile that wanted out. They had an easy way together that told him maybe he didn’t need to worry so much. He didn’t even freeze when he glanced back up to see Win smiling at him.
    He couldn’t find a smile, but he could nod. That worked well enough.
    Win nodded back before turning to face the counter again and digging in to his food.
    Sage finished his cup of coffee and managed another ten pages on his book before he handed Wilma a ten spot. “I’ll see you tomorrow, ma’am. Mr. Bulldog. Sir.”
    “Night, Sage,” Bulldog said.
    “Night.” Wilma smiled at him.
    “Night,” Win the cop murmured, surprising him.
    “Good night.” He headed out to his truck, parked under the light where he could see it.
    Time to go home and feed his dog. Maybe read something more adult. That was one of the best things about having a private place. No one confiscated his books. Singing with Luke Bryan on KSCS out of DFW, he headed to the house, keeping the truck at three miles under the speed limit. When the lights came on behind him, his heart stopped.
    He hadn’t been doing anything wrong. Nothing.
    Sage pulled over, keeping his hands visible on the damned steering wheel, and told himself to breathe. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Nothing.
    “Good evening, sir,” the deputy said when Sage rolled the window down. “License and registration?”
    He got his registration and proof of insurance out of the glove box, then handed everything over, not even asking what they were pulling him over for. He knew. They were pulling him over for daring to be alive. Go him.
    “Have you been