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He separates from me, only long enough to lift me up and over his shoulder.

“John, what’s happening? What’s going on?” Fight enters my body all at once, and I pound on his back. “Let me down!”

He’s stronger than I realized. His rippling back muscles bruising my knuckles.

He grabs Olive’s phone out of my back pocket, dropping it to the ground. “We need to leave this behind.”

“You’re scaring me.” I quiver.

A memory threatens to tear into me, but I keep it at bay. Force it down.

“Cinnamon, I promise you, you’re safe with me. I will not hurt you.” But he’s marching us out of the restaurant, towards his car.

He opens the backdoor, throws me down.

I land on my butt, staring up at him in shock as he shuts it.

There are bars on his back windows. A barricade separating me from the front.

When I jerk at the handle, the door doesn’t open.

Pure.

Uncontrollable.

Fear.

It enters my bloodstream. Circulates.

But not for me.

“John,” I whimper as he gets in. “Please, hurting me will only get you killed.”

He jolts as he’s buckling his seatbelt, but doesn’t pause. “Cinnamon. I was here to arrest you. My last act as a detective. Turn in this car and be done with this life.”

My heart beats into my throat as I think back to what he could possibly want to arrest me for. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

He’s driving now, fast and far away.

He is speeding, bumping us off the edges of the road to bypass traffic.

Bump!

“John, please. Seriously, what’s going on?”

Bump!

“Cinnamon, I need to ask you a few questions.” He’s still swerving in and out of traffic.

Bump!

Heading north.

Bump!

Away from the police station.

Bump!