“Down! Get on the ground!”
“Now!”
Silas swears under his breath, hands already lifting as he slowly drops to his knees. Chopper follows a second later, jaw tight, eyes flicking toward me like he’s waiting for a call that isn’t coming.
We’re not shooting our way out of this. Not tonight, when we’re outmanned and way too close to home.
I raise my hands, lowering myself to the concrete as boots pound closer, the sharp click of cuffs already jangling in my ears.
“Warehouse is clear!” one of them shouts from the office.
I stifle the snort of laughter bubbling in my chest.
“Nothing here!” another calls, the sound of disbelief easy to hear.
“Sir… you’re gonna want to see this.” A portly man radios to whoever’s in charge.
I keep my face blank as someone hauls me to my feet, a rough hand digging into my arm, the cuffs biting my wrists.They drag the three of us toward the center while a couple of officers chase their tails looking for something, anything that would make a case.
Confusion starts to bleed into their movements, and the comedy of it all grasps the three of us. I can see the smug delight in Silas’s eyes and the pinch on Chopper’s lips.
Oh, how I wish the cameras were still up and recording so I could get a copy of this to show the rest of the crew.
“Where the hell is it?” The man of the hour steps over. Sheriff Roger, one of Rosenfeld’s finest.
“Dispatch said?—”
“Yeah, I know what dispatch said,” he barks at the young kid who looks wet behind the ears.
He steps up in front of me, eyes hard, searching my face for something I’m not giving him. “You wanna tell me where the rest of it is?”
I don’t answer.
Silas lets out a dry chuckle beside me. “Looks like you boys got a bad invite to the party.”
That earns him a shove, before he’s jolted back into the officer’s reach.
“Shut up,” Rogie boy mouths off, not keeping his cool in the moment.
Another officer jogs up, shaking his head, sweat beading his brow. “We got nothing. No guns. No drugs. Just… a whole lot of empty warehouse.”
His fury explodes, radiating around our little circle, holding everyone in place.
“Take them in. I think we’ll sort this at the precinct.”
I catch Silas’s eye as they start dragging us toward the door, shaking my head to keep him in check. Chopper falls in step on my other side, silent but steady.
They have no case. No probable cause. One call to Ghost will have the cuffs off in an instant. But I have a feeling our one phone call won’t be granted until we’ve spent some time sweating it out in the lovely county lock-up.
What a fucking night.
MUG SHOTS AND SPICY MARGS
JOSEPHINE
My feet ache,and my back twinges with every move. It’s like I’ve taken up gymnastics in my sleep. Muscles I didn’t know existed, pull and protest with every little shift.
The faint chemical scent of hair dye and shampoo filters through the air, mixing with the lingering warmth of blow-dryers running nonstop. My last client of the day heads for the front door, the bell above it jingling softly as it shuts behind her. I slump in my chair, spinning lazily toward Charlie, who’s sweeping up the cut she’d done earlier.
