I don’t know what makes me do it, but some kind of force has me getting to my feet and moving across my cell. I stand just beside the door, curling my hands around the metal bars and trying to determine exactly what’s being said. All I know is that something is different.
Maybe it’s the determination or no-bullshit tone that comes flying out of King’s voice as he demands my release, or maybe it’s the way that every word spoken is done with an authority that has even me flinching. Who are these guys, and where the fuck do they get off having that much confidence? Don’t get me wrong, I certainly appreciate how they like to run their show, but damn. I’ve never experienced anything like it before.
King finishes with his little rant, and despite how badly I want to race out there and see their faces, they’re just high school students up against the law. They’re going to be sent on their way, and that knowledge has the disappointment pulsing heavily through my chest.
The main door to this bullshit holding cell opens, and I raise a brow as I stare back at the burly cop who had picked me up at school. He strides toward me with a pissed-off scowl, every step meant to be intimidating. But if a guy like this approached me on the street without a badge, I’d have him fucked up in two seconds. He doesn’t intimidate me, and judging by the way he watches me, he knows it.
He finally reaches my cell, and I watch as he slides a key into the lock and twists until the door finally opens. He reaches in and grabs my wrists, violently spinning me until my back is to him with my wrists open for the taking. He fastens a set of handcuffs around them, far too tight to be legal, and without warning, I’m tugged out of the cell and out through the door into the main part of the precinct.
The cop leads me through the corridors, pushing through doors with an angry grunt before finally coming out into the foyer, where I find all four of the guys staring back at me. A hint of relief travels over Cruz’s face, but as for the rest of them, they just look pissed.
I’m kept away for processing, but I don’t miss the way that Cruz inches toward me, ready to grab me and run, but I don’t get it. Am I being let go? Did the guys finally get through to these cops? No, that’s not possible. I did the crime, and the cops are more than aware of it, at least they think they are. I don’t know what evidence they think they have to tie me to it, but apparently, they have something; otherwise, I wouldn't be here.
A female cop steps in behind me and releases my wrists before my fingerprints are taken for what must be the third time. I’m made to sign some paperwork, and then finally, she steps out of my personal space and indicates toward the exit. “You’re free to go,” she tells me. “But we are watching you, girl. Don’t be fooled, we know you did it, and we will be taking you in.”
I don’t say a word, just silently walk toward the guys. Cruz falls into my side while King steps into my other, twisting his hand around my elbow and pulling me faster toward the door. Grayson and Carver step in behind us and I can’t help but feel that the way they crowd around me is like some kind of weird protective formation. It’s not normal, not natural.
The second we break out into the fresh air, I all but crumble, sucking in a deep breath of air. “Holy fuck,” I sigh, the relief pouring over me like a violent wave.
“Keep moving,” Grayson demands from behind me, not giving me even a second to enjoy my freedom as King keeps pulling on my arm.
We walk across the road, and before I know it, King is shoving me through the back door of Carver’s Escalade and coming in behind me. All four boys climb into the car, the doors slamming behind them. In an instant, Carver is careening down the road without a word.
Cruz’s thigh presses up against mine as King’s hand remains wrapped around my arm, but the pressure is gone now, and I can’t help but feel that he’s leaving it there just to feel my skin on his. The car ride remains silent, and as I look around at the four guys, I realize that not one of them is about to crack.
My frustration gets the best of me and I tear my arm away from King. “Were any of you planning on telling me what the fuck just happened?” I question. “How the hell did you get me out of there?”