“You’re both under arrest for street racing. Who owns this car?” Cop number one asks.
“I do,” Zara says.
“You sure don’t look like aDominic McKinley,” he says.
“I’m his daughter.”
“Sure you are.” The cop laughs.
“I am. My ID is in the car,” Zara explains.
The cop reaches in and finds her purse, pulling out her driver’s licence. “Right, well, Miss McKinley, rich or not, street racing is illegal.”
“I want my lawyer,” I say.
“I bet you do,” the cop behind me replies.
We’re placed in the back of their vehicle. One of the cops takes the keys from Zara and locks her car. “You’re seriously going to leave it here?” I ask them.
“Yep. You can arrange to have someone collect it once we’re at the station.”
“What were you doing out street racing?” his counterpart presses.
“Don’t answer that,” I tell Zara.
“I’m not an idiot,” she hisses at me.
“Considering your uncle is the best defence lawyer in the country, I’d expect you not to be an idiot when getting arrested, P.” I smile, trying to lighten the situation. My eyes stay trained on her. I haven’t forgotten what she was thinking in that car.I wish I could reach out and touch her, reassure her that she’s okay.
I need to call her uncle, who also happens to be my family solicitor. I couldn’t give a fuck how long I have to sit in that cell, though. I just want him to come and get her.
We get separated as soon as we arrive at the station. There’s nothing I can do about it either and I fucking hate it. But I know how this works. The more I fight, the longer they’ll keep me here just to fuck with me. It’s not the first time I’ve found myself in cuffs.
“Sit down.” One of the officers pushes me towards a shitty chair. He lowers himself onto the one across the desk.
I drop down, meet his stare, and wait. I’m not talking. Like I said, I’m not a fucking idiot.
It doesn’t take too long for the officer to break the silence. “Tell me who you were racing tonight. Who arranged the race?” he asks.
“I want my lawyer.” I know my rights, and I’m not about to incriminate myself. Also, I doubt they actually have any evidence. Zara and I were pulled over on the side of the road when they turned up behind us.
“Why?”
“I want my lawyer. Xavier Christianson. I’m sure you’ve heard of him,” I say.
Without a word, the asshole grunts as he leaves the room. The door slams behind him.
I’m left sitting here for another thirty minutes. I know because all I can do is watch the fucking clock ticking on the wall. My hands are still in cuffs. The asshole didn’t take them off.
The moment Xavier walks in, he demands the cuffs be removed before he kicks the officers out of the room. Xavier doesn’t sit. He stands on the opposite side of the table.
“Is she okay?” I ask.
“Is who okay?”
“Zara. You did see her first, didn’t you?” I jump up from my chair. “Why the fuck are you in here? Go and get her out.”
“Zara is here? They arrested her?”
