Page 3 of Devil's Iris
My stomach plummets straight to hell.Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
One of the cops tackles Henry to the ground, wrenching his arms behind his back and snapping cuffs on his wrists with way more force than necessary. Another one spots me, but my hands are already in the air as she approaches, cuffs dangling from her fingers.
“Hello, detective.” I try a friendly smile. “I’m so relieved to see you. I’m here for my brother and?—”
“Save it.” She spins me around and grabs my hands withzero gentleness. Cool metal kisses my wrists, and I shudder at the contact.
I’m getting arrested too? How long will this take? Less than an hour? No, I only have forty–three minutes left. Or is it thirty by now? God, I don’t even know how long it took to walk up to the front door and for Henry to open it.
Icannotbe arrested. Panic claws up my throat, and I start struggling, trying to pull away from her iron grip. “I’m not a criminal! I’m only here to pick up my brother, I swear?—”
“Your brother is one of the drug dealers? Which one?”
My lips part, but no words come out. No matter what I say, she’s not going to believe me, is she? She’s just going to twist my words until I’m buried so deep I’ll never see daylight again.
Cops are not to be trusted.
I’m pushed towards the front door, and tears of frustration prick my eyes as dread coils, cold and heavy, in my chest.
I’m going to lose my job.
2
LENI
I’m shoved into the back of a patrol car and left with a prime view of the men inside being escorted out one after another in cuffs. My heart squeezes painfully when I spot Ethan among them. His mouth is pressed into a thin line, that mutinous expression making him look so much older than eighteen.
Where did I go wrong?
My lungs burn with unshed emotion, and more tears threaten to spill, but I blink them back furiously. I’m not some weakling who falls apart at the first sign of trouble. Still, it feels like a personal failure. I practically raised this kid from nothing, so is it a mark against me that as soon as he becomes of legal age, this is what he chooses to do?
His gaze lands on my scooter, and he immediately starts scanning the area with sharp, desperate eyes. When those familiar baby blues finally meet mine through the patrol car window, his lips part in what might be surprise or horror. Something that looks suspiciously like guilt flickers across his features, but he quickly looks away before I can fully read him or decode what’s going on in that thick skull of his.
Coward.My head falls against the window with a defeated thud.
A female detective—different from the one who cuffed me—slips into the driver’s seat. I sit up straighter, putting on my most reasonable voice. “Do you suppose you or one of the other officers could strap my scooter to a car?” I nod towards it. “I’d really hate to have to come back here for it. Most taxis don’t want to drive out this way.”
She scowls at me, but something in my expression—probably the sheer desperation—makes her face soften, just a fraction. With a muttered curse, she climbs back out. I watch her walk towards her colleagues, gesturing at my scooter. One of them glances at me, and I force a smile even though it’s the last thing I want to do.Gotta soften them up.
I really, really don’t want to come back to this hellhole.
He looks away, and after several minutes of conversation—precious minutes I don’t have to spare—they finally approach my scooter. They circle it, inspecting the beat-up little thing like it’s some mysterious artifact. Then they just… walk away, every single one of them, without making any move to strap it to their vehicle.
A moment later, all the cops pile into their cars, and mine returns to the driver’s seat while a male cop takes shotgun.
I gape at her when she turns the ignition. “What about my scooter?”
“There’s no way for us to transport it with our vehicles. We’ll have it towed to the station.”
If I had the luxury of time to think this through, maybe I would have reached the same conclusion myself. But not now. Right now, all I can think about is how they didn’t eventry. How I’m on the verge of losing the only job I’ve managed to keep for more than a few months. How I don’t have the money to pay for the towing. How I’ve been arrested for—I don’t even know what yet. How I might end up with a criminal record.
I’m a woman balanced on the razor’s edge of sanity.
That’s my only explanation for why something inside me finally snaps, and a dam bursts. “Is the police department going to cover the tow cost? I’m going to lose my job tonight because I only have an hour's grace from my boss, and I doubt I’m going to be released by then. Am I evengoing to be releasedat all?”
What if I spend the rest of my life rotting behind bars? The thought unlocks a new level of terror I didn’t know existed.
“Oh my God.” My voice breaks. “I’m going to be one of those people who spends years in jail without doing anything wrong. I’ve never even gotten a speeding ticket in my life!” Partly because my scooter isn’t exactly designed for speeding, but still. “Oh God, oh God, oh God.”
