“You find everything you need?”
I nod again as I hear the bell chime above the door. I tense but focus on the task at hand, the need to get out of here clawing at me.
“Hey, Denny, what brings you in here at this time of day?” Andy asks the newcomer.
“Looking for the owner of a van you got outside.”
I tense even further as I turn and take in the police uniform. The guy pulls out a small notebook and flips it open before reading off my license plate. I raise my hand to tell him that’s me before pulling out my card to pay for my items. I’m too busy paying attention to the cop to notice Andy glance down at my card, reading my name from the front.
“Miss, you have a broken taillight,” the cop tells me.
I turn back to Andy, who curses and frowns when I see him looking at my card. He glances up, fire in his eyes. I know he’s going to refuse me service, so I tap my card to the machine and smile when it beeps, accepting my payment. I put the card away and grab the cart handle, pushing it away.
“You’re not welcome in here, Sorrow. I don’t serve murderers,” he snaps. I feel my shoulders hunch, but I refuse to acknowledge him as I head to the door.
“Miss Wells?” the cop asks as he follows me out. Right, the taillight.
I leave the cart next to the van and walk around to look. I swear it was fine earlier. I’d have noticed, right? I look down at it and frown before looking at the other. Both are intact. I look up at the cop who has followed me, point to the light, and shake my head. It looks like he made a mistake.
He frowns and looks himself, moving closer. “Shit, my mistake.” He sighs before pulling out his nightstick and smashing it into the taillight, the glass shattering to the ground. I stand there open-mouthed, trying to figure out if that actually just happened.
He looks up at me and smirks. “Like I said, taillight’s out. Now, I’m going to give you a ticket.” He pulls out his pad while I silently fume, knowing there is nothing I can do. I fist my hands and wait for him to give it to me. He rips it from the pad and hands it over. I reach to take it, and he grips my wrist.
“Is that alcohol I can smell?” He leans in and takes a deep breath, my heart thundering in my chest like crazy. Is this really happening in broad daylight? Normally, I’d be mad but calm because I have nothing to hide, but innocence doesn’t matter in Tempest. I’ve played this game before.
I let my eyes drift closed for a second before he pulls out a breathalyzer and makes me breathe into it, which I do. He pulls it away and doesn’t even bother looking at it before he spins me around and pins me to the side of the van, my head smacking painfully off the metal. I swallow down my yelp as he slaps a pair of cuffs on me far too tightly.
“Driving under the influence and resisting arrest? Tut tut, I’ve heard that’s how you roll. Well, I’d say your behavior implies you have something to hide, which means I have probable cause to search this vehicle.”
He grabs me, walks me over to his squad car, and yanks the door open before shoving me inside. He pushes too hard, though, not even making sure I have my balance. I pitch over, and with my hands cuffed behind me, I can’t catch myself. My face hits the seat, all my weight bearing down on me, wrenching at my shoulders. I taste blood as my nose makes impact and my teeth slice into my gum.
I can’t right myself before the door slams closed behind me. Instead of fighting it, I stay where I am and let my body go lax to take some of the pressure off my shoulders. I feel tears run down my face, but my body is so hopped up on adrenaline that I can’t tell if the tears are from my anger and fear or a reaction to my nose getting hurt.
I hear commotion outside the car. I can’t see anything from this position, so I tune it out. I don’t know how much time passes before the driver’s side door opens, and the cop climbs in. He doesn’t even look back at me. He shuts his door and takes off, not giving a shit that I almost end up in the footwell.
I never thought I’d be grateful to see the police station, but when the car stops, all I care about is getting out of this thing and away from this asshole. Being alone with this guy scares the crap out of me more than I care to admit.
Chapter Eight
BANNER
“No, that’s fine. When is she due in court?” I ask Wade, who wants to know if anyone is free to guard a DV survivor who is due to face her piece-of-shit husband in a custody dispute.
“Day after next.”
“You expecting trouble?”
“Always. Saying that, I don’t think this guy will try anything publicly. He’s working the charmingI’m a nice guy, and she’s a crazyangle, so threatening her publicly will ruin that for him. This is more a case of better safe than sorry.”
“Is it looking like this could go his way?” I question, hating when kids get caught up in this shit.
“There is enough evidence to show what a piece of shit this motherfucker is. But we both know the system is flawed and sometimes innocent people fall through the cracks.”
I stare at him. He hates this shit. As a cop, he believes wholeheartedly in what he does, but that doesn’t mean he’s oblivious to the corruption that is rife in certain areas. There have even been whispers over the years that Tempest PD mightnot be as squeaky clean as it should be. Nothing has ever been proven, so most assume it’s criminals lying about dirty cops.
We head out back, where Marcus and Arlo are talking. I walk over to the fridge to grab us both a drink when Wade’s cell phone rings. He pulls it out and frowns.
“Give me a sec, Banner.” He puts the phone to his ear and answers. “Hey, baby, what’s up?” It must be Olivia, his wife. I turn to give him some privacy when I hear him cursing. “What the fuck? You sure?”
