Page 88 of Look at Her and Die

That’s when the chaos started.

Kent picked up his own bat and yelled at him, meanwhile I got in a ready stance and said, “You make one single move over this threshold, and I’m seriously taking you out.”

He pulled a gun out of his pants and aimed it at me, and I felt true fear slither down my spine.

I couldn’t win with a bat when he had a gun.

A loud whirrup filled the air, and I’d never been more thankful that the cops were so damn nosy at night than I was right then.

He shoved the gun back in his pants and went down the steps, and I knew damn well and good as soon as I saw who the cop was that this wasn’t going to go in my favor.

“Shit,” I grumbled.

It was the same cop that’d victim blamed Calliope a few days ago. The state trooper of the group.

He walked up the length of the sidewalk and took everyone in.

Me dressed in sleep pants and a baggy t-shirt of Koda’s, Kent standing behind me in thin shorts and nothing else.

But his eyes lit behind me, and I knew he saw Calliope.

Shit, shit, shit.

They narrowed on her and he said, “What’s going on here?”

“This man just threatened us with a gun and broke my door down.”

The cop rolled his eyes. “I doubt that is what happened.”

And that was exactly why I didn’t like cops.

I never got the chance to call Posy.

Not when I was escorted down to Decatur Police Department and sat in a room for hours.

I was sure that the kids would find a way to tell Posy, but he’d have to come home for that to happen, and his shift wasn’t supposed to end until tonight at seven.

And I’d been in this empty room, in the uncomfortable chair, for hours.

They hadn’t allowed me to call my lawyer, either.

Hell, I didn’t even have my phone.

I was fuming, and it pissed me the hell off that Taryn had this good ol’ boy relationship with a few of the cops on Decatur PD that I was even in this situation in the first place.

I was counting ceiling tiles—which were in desperate need of replacing—when a sound of heels clicking on hard floor caught my attention.

I looked up just in time for the door to swing open so hard that it bounced on the wall.

Then came Malone.

Damn, she was getting a good workout with all the times I’d needed her lately.

“My client is seriously in here, not under arrest, in her t-shirt, sleep pants, and no shoes?” Malone asked carefully.

“Ma’am…”

That was the asshole who’d brought me here in the first place.

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