Page 5 of Pen Me

“If you insist, but if you think you’re getting anything but silence, you better call a fucking psychic or something. I ain’t got nothing to say to you or any law enforcement officer. I choose to embrace my right to remain silent. My lawyer will answer any questions you may have.”

“Alright, wise ass. Have it your way.” The old man quipped, before straightening the front of his white uniformed top. “Take him down to the bullpen.”

“Oh, no. Not the holding cell.” I did my best Gingerbread man voice for him and his hand curled into a fist.

“Look at you.” I laughed, my gaze pointedly dropping to his badge. “Harrington, huh?”

“Would you get him down there, Randy?” he barked at the officer to my right.

Randy was obedient, we moved at a swift pace down the hall, past the processing desk.

Larissa Porter was working behind the desk. She doubled as dispatch on the weekends. Her eyes widened when they dragged me past without stopping. I blew her a kiss and swallowed another laugh.

“Be back with you shortly, sweetheart,” I assured her.

She was a better time than Jessica, if memory served me, but it had been a few years.

“Porter, if you please.” Randy huffed when we were forced to stop in front of the heavy blue door.

She scrambled to buzz us through. The door sounded like it had been a hundred years since it last moved on its hinges. The way it sounded when it shut, however, was soul jarring. Every. Fucking. Time.

A dozen eyes anchored to me as we neared the holding cell. None of them looked particularly problematic. I recognized Vince right away.

Randy opened the door of the holding cell and shoved me inside, quickly closing and securing the door behind me. He walked away without another word.

“Asshole,” I sang after him. “An obedient little bitch, but an asshole nonetheless.”

He could have at least loosened the cuffs, if not removed them!

“Menace,” Vince hissed, drawing my attention to his panic-stricken face.

My attention swung around the cell. The man on the far side was entirely dependent on the bars to hold him up. His eyes, though pinned on me, were bloodshot, and he kept blinking like he was having a hard time focusing. I didn’t know him, but I knew he wasn’t any kind of threat.

The two men on the other end of the bench caught my eye next. One was built like a Pitbull. His jaw and head were big, and his arms bulged. He had a teardrop tattooed on his face and a permanent scowl. His friend was taller, with long braids, and some ink on his neck that looked like a rose blooming into hundred-dollar bills.

They both had hardened eyes that spoke of their capable nature.

“Mother fuckers don’t get in no hurry, huh? Ya’ll been here a few hours?” I jerked my chin up at them as I spoke.

The bulkier of the two grunted, his dark brow spiking as he side-eyed the blue door at the end of the hall with contempt.

“Never do.” His friend slowly sang, before shaking his head and huffing. He dropped his gaze to the thumbnail he was picking at, and I realized the other two in the cell were still staring at me.

One had a smartly trimmed, reddish-brown beard. The other was taller than the man with the teardrop, but no less bulky. His green eyes were murderous.

“Menace, get over here,” Vince hissed.

I didn’t take my gaze off the last two, and they didn’t stop staring at me, either.

Vince grabbed my arm, his hands uncuffed, and hauled me down to the bench next to him.

“What the fuck are you doing in here, kid?” he carried on.

I shrugged, not breaking eye contact with the pair. “Waiting to be shown to a cell, same as you.”

”What?” Vince abruptly snapped. “Menace… Menace, look at me, damn it!”

I flicked a glance his way, only to instantly return it.

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