Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 45351 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45351 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
I keep my mouth closed as he grabs my arm and begins to lift me off the bench. I get up and begin walking with him. His grip is tight on my arm but I don’t do anything that would give him ammunition to use against me. I have to fight not to cry out in pain as his fingers dig into my arm knowing it’s going to leave a mark. I also know he’s going to regret it. I’m not alone anymore. He can push me around in this moment but he is going to pay for that hand he just put on me. I know it.
“Detective Murray. Detective Grant. In my office now.” A loud voice fills the room. When I look up I see an older man. He commands attention so I’m guessing he’s their superior. Detective Grant loosens his hold on me after guiding me back to the bench that I had previously been seated on. I inwardly smile, knowing that Carter is already working his magic. I barely get myself seated back on the bench when Carter’s deep voice booms through the police station.
I don’t fight the smug smile that pulls at my lips. Sometimes loving the asshole is better than Prince Charming. In truth, though, my Carter is both. He lives up to both names when it comes to me. Everyone else in this station is about to meet the Carter that others steer clear of. Except me. I welcome all sides of him with open arms. He’s hooked me. Damn him. The deep rumble of his angry voice turns me on while I’m cuffed in a police station. I'm sure he’ll take care of that later too.
Chapter 29
Carter
A white-haired guy with a Santa beard is standing on the police station steps when we pull up. I run past him but he grabs my arm.
“Carter Franklin?”
“Sorry man.” I shake his surprisingly firm grip. “Don’t have the time.” Some of these old men love to talk about the good ol’ days when they played ball. I usually entertain them because fuck if that’s not going to be me someday. Today, though, I’ve got to get to Mallory.
“I’m Kevin Bailey. Your father called me and asked me to meet you here to discuss an unlawful arrest.”
I back up immediately. He doesn’t look like any of the sharks my dad employs. Those guys are all slicked-back hair and dark blue suits with prep school striped ties. They look like they were churned out of a lawyer factory. This man is one red suit away from being mistaken for Jolly St. Nick.
He smiles, his cheeks turning into red balls. “Come inside and I’ll assist you. Why don’t you tell me the details?”
Being a good quarterback is all about making split second decisions. I consider his offer for a half second and then start talking. “I found Mallory in the back of my car a week and a half ago. She’d run away from her home because her mom’s boyfriend was making moves on her. She had no money of her own so she took this guy’s wallet. I think it had a few hundred in it. A couple days ago, I had a party at my house. The cops came looking for her and I said she was my cousin.”
“And they questioned no one else?”
“We all backed him up,” Fast offers.
Santa looks over my shoulder at my teammate. “Well, a very steady group of friends,” he observes. “That says something about you.”
“Nothing good,” Fast interjects. “We all hate him because he’s an asshole.”
I flip Fast off.
“Better to be feared than loved, so says Machiavelli,” Santa says cheerfully, not at all deterred by my teammate’s sarcasm. Santa must have some smart-mouthed elves.
“I don’t want to interrupt this budding bro fest between the two of you,” I say, “But Mallory’s cuffed and in a jail cell so we need to get in there now and get her out. Do you have a plan?”
“I do, but I’m curious about yours. You do have one, don’t you?” Santa peers up at me.
“Yeah. It involves talking about how the chief of police spent a holiday at my house snorting coke off of a model’s ass.” I have a lot of dirt on that man. My dad has even worse shit on Mayor Al, which is why the town official doesn’t do anything without my dad’s approval.
“Ah, well, let’s hold your powder on that one and try my way first, shall we?” Santa suggests.
“I want her out today,” I tell him.
“Of course. No other outcome is acceptable.”
Those are encouraging words so I follow him into the station. There’s a small lobby and a woman sitting behind a glass barrier. To my left is a door. I try it but it’s locked. Meanwhile, Santa greets the dispatcher by her first name.