Like Sheep
Chapter Eight
Detective Ramirez drove Amber quickly home, the tension between them so thick that one
could cut it with a knife. The blonde was refusing to look at the woman, instead gazing out the
window at the buildings that were blurred as they drove past. Her rage washed over her
continually; it did not ebb or grow, but was a constant emotion.
As they pulled up to Amber's apartment, Ramirez sighed and turned to face the angry girl.
"Amber. Look at me."
She did so reluctantly, a challenge plain in her mismatched eyes. The patch lay in her lap
between her two snow white, shaking hands.
"I'm sorry about what happened today," the detective continued. "But I wish you'd let me help
you! I don't expect you to bounce back to being the person you were before you were attacked,
and I'd like to help you deal with this and move on." Ramirez suddenly leaned forward and
clasped one of Amber's hands in her larger, warmer ones; Amber flinched. "Please. Just let me help
you."
Amber fought the urge to swallow and to keep the blush down that threatened to overtake her
neck.
"I don't need help," she finally said. "What I need is for your damn lapdogs to leave me the hell
alone." And with that she tore her hand away from the woman's grasp and propelled herself from
the passenger seat.
Bruce's eyes were glued to the TV when Alfred walked in, carrying a silver tray with the
brunette's tea upon it.
"Master Wayne," the butler said in an attempt to get the other's attention.
No response.
With a sigh, he put the tray down on the table and grabbed the remote from where it laid a few
feet away on the coffee table.
Alfred clicked off the TV, ignoring the unhappy groan from his employer on the couch.
"Alfred, I was watching that!" Bruce groused.
"And now you are not, Master Wayne," the butler said. Bruce pouted.
"I have a favor to ask you, Master Wayne, and I would like your attention for a few minutes."
The brunette sat up quickly, worry etched into his face. What could have happened for Alfred to
be asking Bruce a favor?
"What is it, Alfred?"
"I would like you to pursue that case with that girl from the papers. I think she'll be needing
your help."
"The Joker-,"
"That maniac can wait, sir. This girl cannot."
"What makes you think she's in danger, Alfred?" Bruce asked softly. "She could be fine. She
could have left the city and started over."
"I highly doubt that Master Wayne."
"Alfred-,"
"I never ask anything of you, Master Wayne. But I am now, because I really believe this girl
deserves someone telling her that she'll be okay."
There was silence between them for a few moments before Bruce finally sighed; he stood up.
"I'll look into it now," he said quietly and swept away