“No.” I just came out of a prison. I don’t even have my switchblade. “And fuck with you how?”
“You’ll see. Just… don’t give them any reason to pull their guns.”
I unbuckle my seat belt and inhale deeply. “Axe know about all thisfucking with?”
Kat’s hands shake a little as she rifles through her papers. “He was in jail for two years. He has enough to worry about. And I can handle myself.”
I glance at the cruiser parked behind us, my stomach rolling. But when Decker pushes out of the car, I breathe a sigh of relief. It’s short-lived, though, when Sergeant Bag of Dicks exits the passenger side.
Kat rolls down her window and hands over her licence and registration without being asked. “Problem, Officer Decker?”
He leans in, assessing me, then her. His jaw ticks. “Just be cool, all right? And keep your hands where we can see them.”
“Not my first rodeo, asshole,” Kat says.
“I’m serious, Kat. Let’s keep the attitude to a minimum, all right?” he says, attention slicing back to me.
The sergeant raps his knuckles on my window and motions for me to open it.
I hesitate, but the look Decker throws me has me quickly lowering the glass.
Sergeant Allen pokes his head in, his face so close to mine I recoil from the hot breath hitting my cheek. “Where you two coming from?”
“None of your business,” I snap.
Smiling, he rests his hand on his holster.
Kat clears her throat. “We’re just driving back from Central North.”
Right. Keep the attitude to a minimum. Don’t give him a reason to pull his gun. From the way his fingers twitch, he seems to be itching to pull it despite there being no clear threat coming from us. Just like the night I rolled into town. I have a bad feeling this is going to end the same way—a fresh bruise on my face and my hands in cuffs.
“Visiting the big brother,” Sergeant Allen says. “Cute. These windows are looking a little dark. This tint street legal?”
“Yes,” Kat says. “And South Bay PD has checked every window. Thoroughly.”
“Any drugs? Weapons?”
I peek over at Decker, who looks like he’s trying to burn a hole in Sergeant Allen’s face.
“No,” Kat says.
The asshole outside my window pulls back a little, focus dropping to just outside the passenger door. “You sure about that?” He bends over, and when he pushes back up, he’s holding a small bag of white powder. Cocaine.
“That’s not ours.” My pulse ratchets up quickly as I snap my focus to Kat.
Beside me, she grips the steering wheel until her knuckles are white, her lips pursed. “Don’t say anything.”
Keep quiet. Don’t speak. Keep your mouth shut until the lawyer shows up.
But this is fucking insane. A cop is literally planting evidence in front of us. The police don’t do this.
I glare at Decker, whose eyes are narrowed, looking between me and the bag as if he’s seriously trying to figure out if that’s mine.
“It’snotours,” I say again.
“Right,” the sergeant says. “I’m gonna assume you ditched it when you saw the lights. Next time do yourself a favour and throw it a little farther.” He chuckles. “Or maybe swallow it. If it explodes on its way down and stops your heart, then you’d be doingeveryonea favour. One less biker whore on the streets.” That hand on his weapon again. “Step out of the car. Both of you.”
He yanks open the door and roughly tugs me out. I don’t fight him, but without meaning to, I’m pulling away at the tight, bruising grip he’s got on my arm as he yanks me around the car and then practically throws me back against it.
