“We want to press charges,” one of the bloodied men interrupts, keeping a wary distance from Nash like he’s afraid of getting his nose snapped if he’s within striking distance. “Look at me!” He motions to his bruised jaw and the pint of crimson staining his clothes. “This isn’t right!”
I shove my hands into the front pocket of Nash’s hoodie, twisting the fabric between my fingers. If they press charges, he’ll be detained and I’ll be gone before he’s released.
He tucks me back against his chest, his body tense as he dips his head, lips brushing my ear. “Calm down.” He barely whispers the words, but his tone is firm.
It’s an order. One that grounds me. I give up control, letting him lead, and the tension siphons out of me immediately.
Sarge lets out a tired sigh. “If you’re sure about it, then we’ll have to sort this out downtown.” He levels a measured glare at Nash. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
There’s no glee in his eyes, but Malik compensates for them both, his smug smile shining bright in the dim alleyway. It droops when another officer rushes up, holding a phone out.
“Sarge, you need to hear this.”
With one eyebrow raised, he takes the phone, brows drawn together while he listens to whoever’s on the other end.
“Who’s this?” His back straightens like a metal pole. “I understand, but—” He falls silent, his complexion blanching. “Of course, as you wish.”
With a shaking hand he pulls the phone away from his ear, eyes darting between Nash and the screen. For a few heartbeats, no one says a word. The entire alleyway is engulfed by silence.
“Look,” he starts, moving his attention to the guy with the bruised jaw, “it’s been a long day. Misunderstandings happen. Maybe it’s best if everyone walks away now. No harm, no foul.”
“What? No way! He—”
“Sarge!” Malik denotes, arms akimbo, one hand dangerously close to his holster. “What’s going on? The man has the right to press charges! He was assaulted!”
“Not a word from you,” the sergeant snaps, his neck glowing red with anger. “And you...” He glares at the bruised-jaw guy. “Trustme. Drop it. It’s a bruise, son. Not. Worth. It.” He nods at Nash, a hint of respect in his eyes. “You’re free to go.”
My mouth falls open and my breath spirals from my lungs.
What happened?
Why the sudden change?
Who was on the phone?
Nash doesn’t share my shock. His expression gives nothing away as he turns to the other men, offering them curt nods before gently untangling my fists from his hoodie.
“Come on, pretty girl,” he whispers, nudging me along until my feet start working. “Let’s get you in bed.”
I let him lead us away, passing a line of cops. They all have the same shell-shocked look about them save for the sergeant and the guy holding the phone.
They know something. They’re the only ones in on the secret while others wonder—rightly so—why Nash is walking away without so much as a slap on the wrist.
He takes me back to his car. Abandoned in the middle of the road, drivers weave around it, glaring from their windows.
Nash opens the passenger door for me, my mind swimming with questions. I have ten at the ready and one slips out before Nash has even ushered me in and buckled me up.
“What the hell happened back there?”
He pauses with his hand on the handle. “I should be the one asking that, Hailey. You tucked and fucking rolled out of the car. You said your flashbacks weren’t as intense anymore.”
I chew my bottom lip but hold his gaze, refusing to cower. “Who was on the phone?”
He leans against the door, turning those enigmatic eyes on me. “What did you see?”
“Ugh!” I stomp my foot. “You can’t dodge my questions! This isn’t normal. Cops don’t change their mind out of the blue. You should be in the back of a patrol car on your way to the station right now. Why aren’t you? Who called? What did they say? Why did the sergeant look at you like you were... I don’t know, some kind of royalty?!”
He lets out an exasperated huff, cinching my shoulders and crowding me until I’m bent backward over the car while he towers above me.
