“Cooper?” I say, my voice lower now.
“I’m on my way.” He sounds panicked.
I barely have time to answer Cooper when he’s back at my door again.
“Step out again.”
“I thought you said I was free to go.”
His expression is stoic. “Step out of the vehicle, Brinley.”
I don’t argue. I don’t want to give him a reason to escalate this.
The second my feet hit the pavement, he grabs me and shoves me forward, his hand pressing into my back until my chest hits the side of the car.
“Arms behind you.”
“What are you doing? Why?” My voice doesn’t even sound like my own.
“Arms. Behind your back. Now.”
I do as he says. The metal cuffs snap around my wrists before I can fully process what’s happening. They’re tight and cutting into my skin.
“You’re under arrest.”
“For what?” I ask, my voice shaking now.
“This could’ve all been avoided,” he mutters against my ear, “if you had listened the first time.”
He grips my arm and starts walking me toward his patrol car.
The first time.
My stomach drops so hard I start to feel dizzy. The cars whirling past us along the side of the road aren’t helping either.
I don’t realize what’s happening until a truck pulls up behind him, braking hard. The door flies open, and Cooper comes racing toward me.
“What the hell are you doing?” he shouts.
I don’t realize I’m crying until I try to say his name, and it comes out broken.
His grip on my arm tightens. “Mind your business, Cooper,” he says flatly.
“You see that woman? She’s my business,” Cooper grits. “Now get your hands off her. She’s crying. You’re hurting her.”
He moves closer but stops short. I can see the anger rolling off him to the point he’s shaking.
“Why are you arresting her?”
He doesn’t answer Cooper.
“Wreckless driving,” he says. “When I pulled her over to question her, she was resisting.”
“I was not resisting,” I argue.
Cooper looks from me to him, and something in his face shifts.
“You were there that night. I saw you,” Cooper says. “Behind the bar.”
