Ivy had promised herself this would be the last one. One final arrest before going home, stripping off her uniform, tossing her gun onto the kitchen counter, and finally opening that damn bottle of wine she’d been saving for two days.

But of course. The downtown streets were never really quiet, not even at this hour when everyone was either asleep or pretending to be. And it just had to be some idiot who pushed the gas pedal a little too far. A black sedan, tinted windows, doing 75 in a 50 zone. Almost insulting.

She flicked on the flashing lights with a small, satisfied smile, pressed her foot down, and within two minutes had the car pulled over to the side of the road. Ivy killed the engine, grabbed her flashlight, adjusted her belt, and stepped out into the damp night, the cool air biting at her cheeks. She approached with an unhurried step, flashlight tucked under her arm, a gloved finger tapping lightly on the driver’s window. She gestured for it to come down. The window slid down. And when she saw the face behind the wheel, Ivy raised an eyebrow. Her heart did that small, annoying jolt she hated an echo of something she’d much rather forget.

Of course it was him. Him the asshole who’d known exactly how to make her laugh and tremble before vanishing like a ghost, no call, no message. Ghosted like a fool. And now here he was, caught dead under her lights, like a badly wrapped gift. A smirk curled at her lips. Ivy leaned in slightly, one elbow resting carelessly on the edge of the door.

“Well, well... Look who we’re scraping off the side of the road tonight.” Her voice was soft, almost syrupy, but sharp as a blade. She locked eyes with him, a mix of disdain and amusement flickering in her gaze. She let the flashlight slide down her thigh, studying his hands on the wheel, his shoulders tense. He’d play innocent, she’d bet her badge on it.

“Seventy-five in a fifty... That’s a lot, you know that?” she continued, mock thoughtful, clicking her tongue once in feigned disapproval. She shifted her weight from one leg to the other, her uniform whispering around her. She devoured him with her eyes, despite herself. He’d always had that infuriating thing even cornered, he somehow managed to look so damn sure of himself. It pissed her off. It dragged her back to what they’d done, what she’d believed and how it had ended: with nothing. Just emptiness.

“You’ve got two options, sweetheart. I slap the cuffs on you and you spend the night in a cell with a pretty mugshot for your record... or you give me a reason not to. A good one. And trust me, I’d love to see you beg tonight.” She leaned in closer, her perfume drifting between them, her fingers drumming lightly on the car’s metal skin like she owned it owned him. She knew he could see that sly little smile tugging at the corner of her lips, that arrogant curve she didn’t bother hiding anymore.

“So? What’s it gonna be? Hurry up, baby. I don’t have all night.” In the cold glow of the flashing lights, Ivy savored every second of this small, delicious power. She was in uniform. She had the upper hand. And even if she pretended to hate him, some part of her still burned to see just how far he’d go to keep those cuffs off his wrists.