Page 72 of Under Fire

“Alisa Kelly,” the cop reiterated, marching toward them.

She immediately recognized his pock-marked face. He had been the cop at her apartment complex when it was on fire, asking Warren questions.

“I’m Alisa,” she said slowly.

The cop stopped a few feet from her.

“Alisa Kelly—you are under arrest for arson.”

“Arson?”

Her mouth dropped open, and she stumbled back. She grasped at the car, trying to find stability.

“What is this about?” Maria demanded, trying to shield her.

It didn’t matter. The cop lunged forward, flinging out handcuffs. Panic shot through Alisa’s body as she realized what was happening.

“You’re under arrest. I’m taking you into the station for questioning.” He gripped Alisa’s forearm so she couldn’t run.

“No,” she blurted out, stunned. “This can’t be right.”

The cop secured handcuffs on her, then yanked her toward him. He wasted no time in hauling her body across the pavement.

Maria stood there, shocked, clearly unsure what the hell to do.

“Maria—” Alisa yelped. “Please, do something.”

“Shit.” Maria darted her eyes left and right, her hands outstretched.

Alisa knew there was nothing that could be done as the cop pushed her toward his brown sedan.

“You have the right to shut the fuck up,” he assured her, opening the door and cramming her into his back seat. “In fact, I’d prefer if you did just that.”

“What—?” she gasped as the door slammed in her face.

She shook as she watched him pace around the car and get into the driver’s seat.

It didn’t seem right to her, but she felt like she had no choice. She obeyed, fearful of what would happen to her if she didn’t. He was a cop, right? He could hurt her.

She bit her lip, feeling a flush of anxiety shooting through her as the cop peeled down the street, taking her to the station. As they barreled down the boulevard, it seemed the one time in LA when traffic was nonexistent. Alisa wished congestion had been heavy.

It didn’t take Alisa long before she realized that he had bypassed any natural route to the police station.Where is he taking me?Her fingers tightened on the door handle, and as they rolled to a stop, she tried to heave it open.

But the damn child locks were engaged—and she realized she was stuck. She was helpless.

The cop shot her a threatening look through the rear-view mirror.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Her mouth quivered, and she covertly tried to grip her cell phone in her purse.Warren.

“Or that.” The cop jerked the car over to the side of the road, lunging back to slash her purse from her hands.

“What are you doing?”

She screeched as he hurled her purse on the floor. She scrambled, realizing she was in for a fight. Everything in her body tensed as she tugged as hard as she could on the door handle, even kicking it, like that would do anything.

“Please…don’t hurt me,” she cried, watching the man clamber over the console with a murderous look on his face.

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