“Ma’am, with all due respect—”
“You left respect behind when you came into our home and found drugs that don’t belong to us.”
“This isn’t a negotiation,” Officer Mars interjects almost gently.
“Oh, you better believe it’s a negotiation.” Bristol folds her arms over her chest, managing to look imposing even in her casual dress and bare feet. “Here’s the terms. You follow my instructions for getting him out of here and keeping this off the radar as long as possible. How well you follow my instructions determines, when I bring a wrongful arrest suit against LAPD, how deeply I drag the two of you into it.”
There’s no sign of the soft, pliant woman who was in my lap just minutes ago. In her place stands a coldly enraged Valkyrie who looks fully prepared to escort them to the afterlife.
“Which exit did you want us to use?” Officer Mars asks reluctantly.
While Bristol goes over the plan to get me out of the building and down to the county jail, all I can think of is my mother telling anyone who would listen that all she ever dreamt was that I’d have a clean record and never spend a day behind bars.
Sorry, Ma.
Chapter 34
BRISTOL
“THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING.” No matter how many times I’ve said that over the last several hours, this is happening.
Grip is behind bars, and we can’t get him out on bail. With all the money and connections at our disposal, he’s still stuck in county jail with no chance of getting out tonight.
“It’s the weekend,” Barry, the lawyer says again. “There won’t be a hearing until Monday.”
“You’re telling me Grip has to stay in jail until Monday?” The disbelief and fury on Rhyson’s face may match mine, but I doubt it. “For something we know he didn’t do? Hell, even if he did it, we should be able to get him out.”
“He has no criminal record whatsoever. He should be released on his own recognizance.” I’ve said this over and over, and Barry’s answer remains the same.
“They found a lot of cocaine in his possession. Enough to bump this up to a felony.” Barry polishes his glasses and shakes his head. “Because they have reason to believe it’s connected to a larger case, to a case they’ve been working and a group they’ve been trying to prose- cute for years, the typical strings I would pull aren’t working.”
Barry stands to his feet and gathers his briefcase and jacket. “Where do you think you’re going? Rhyson, he isn’t leaving.” I grab Barry’s briefcase and hold it hostage behind my back. “You’re not leaving.”
Rhyson and Barry stare at me, mouths hanging open. “Bristol, listen,” Rhyson says. “I know you—”
“No, you don’t know.” My voice breaks. My heart breaks. “If you’re willing to leave this place, to let Barry leave this place with Grip still behind bars, then you don’t know.”
“Bris, I get it.” Rhyson says. “He’s my best friend.”
“But he’s my . . .”
I drop the briefcase and turn my back on the two of them, my heart like a spinning speedometer, completely out of control and reckless. I cross one arm across my waist and chew my thumbnail. The sound of Barry leaving the room barely registers. A horrible suspicion sprouted like a weed as soon as the officers found that cocaine, and has grown into venomous certainty. It’s choking every lucid thought and killing off my reason.
“Bristol, we have to go home.” Rhyson turns me gently by the shoulders to face him.
“I want to see him.” Tears flood my throat and emotion weakens my mouth into a trembling mess. “He didn’t get to . . . to eat . . . and I need . . . I need to see him before we go.”
“We can’t tonight, Bris. It’s . . .” he pulls his phone out of his pocket and grimaces at the screen. “It’s one o’clock in the morning. Tomorrow. He’s asleep anyway.”
“Asleep in jail, Rhyson. We can’t leave him.”
“Look, we’ll be back at it first thing in the morning. I am ordering you to go home, get some rest so you’ll be ready to fight tomorrow. We can at least try to find some way to get him out before Monday, despite this hearing thing. But nothing more will happen tonight.”
He heads for the door, looking over his shoulder at me.
“Let’s go, Bris. I need to get home to Kai anyway. She’s so close now, I hate leaving her alone.”
Guilt pricks me as I think about my sister-in-law home alone, ready to deliver at any moment.