Page 63 of Outlaws' Single Mom
The door opens and a man steps out, stopping behind the door like he's using it for cover. He sure as fuck isn't Dillard. What the hell's going on here?
“Who the fuck are you?” Grimm growls at him.
The man smirks, and I'm liking this less and fucking less. “Did you think Ezra was dumb enough tobelieve you? He told me to say good luck convincing the cops that they should trust you over him. Oh, and, 'Fuck you,' I think his exact words were.”
“What’s the plan then?” Grimm shifts, making sure his gun arm is ready to draw. “Gonna kill me? Like it or not, the footage is real, and someone’s going to believe it. Even if you kill me, it’ll leak.”
“Police incoming! Get ready!” Sinner's warning is loud in all our ears. Fuck.
There's a click at the back of the car, then the trunk pops up like a shield, just as the cop drops to take cover behind the car door. Two—no three cops in uniform roll out of the back of the car. They take position behind the trunk lid, aiming iron at Grimm. “Put your gun down real slow on the ground. You're under arrest for the murder of Detective Ross Smith.”
“The fuck?” I'm almost surprised they don't collapse under Grimm's angry stare. “I didn't kill him and I can fucking prove it.”
Sirens start below, blaring as the first cop car pulls into the first floor. Beside me, Chen is swearing up a storm under her breath.
“Four cars now. No, five. Get the fuck outta there.” Sinner's voice cuts through the noise. Sirens ring through the whole fucking garage like church bells.
Chen pops up from beside me. “Put your guns down. I’m Detective Adrienne Chen.” She holds up her badge. “You’re interfering with an ongoing investigation. You’re operating under incomplete information. The men you’re trying to arrest are working with me.”
“Don't bother,” Grimm growls. “They’d rather shoot first and apologize later.”
One by one, the rest of us get up, guns out. We outnumber them for now, but not by the time the cars get up here. “Any advice, detective? I’d rather not go out guns blazing, but I will if I have to.” Jackal growls.
“She's been compromised,” snaps the guy behind the shield. “Detective Chen, surrender now!”
“What the ever-loving fuck are you on, Jensen?” pours out of her with so much vitriol it could make Hellfire blush. “I don’t know where you’re getting your information, but I'll have you knocked right down to beat cop, you incompetent fuck!”
Jesus.
“I said surrender!” Jensen yells back. “We’ll use force if we have to.”
For all his bluster, the other cops don’t look sure who they should be listening to. Their guns are lowered, and they are looking back and forth between Jensen and Chen. One of them is on the phone.
“Fuck,” Lash snaps. “This is a waste of our fucking time.” He's not scared. Just fucking annoyed.
“Let's get the fuck outta here.” Hellfire sounds disgusted with the whole thing, and I don't fucking blame him. “Grimm! We're leaving. Jackal, Stiff! Cover him.”
Me and Jackal keep our guns trained on Jensen, whose face is bright red, and he looks like he’s about to lose his shit. I think he's hoping we shoot first. What's he thinking? We're a bunch of fucking animals?
“Jensen, stand down.” Chen isn't done with him. “Whatever Dillard has told you, this is my investigation.”
More cars are coming up, stopping on the lower levels and spilling out cops that are drawing weapons. Even if no one here is looking for trouble, it only takes one nervous shot to kick off a whole fucking war. With the way things are, we need to get the hell out ASAP.
Hellfire and Lash look down the spiral stairwell that leads to the first floor. “They're coming up,” Hellfire shouts.
Fuck.
Jensen spins in the direction of Hellfire’s shout and fires.
35
DAKOTA
“Where are you taking us?”
From the outside, it looks like Logan and I are sitting in the backseat comfortably, while Dillard drives us around, but my wrists are cuffed and the belt lock has been modified so it pins me to the seat. The car might not have police colors and lights on top, but it's definitely designed to be able to transport prisoners, with the locks and the metal mesh between us and the driver's seat.
Next to me, Logan isn’t cuffed, but he’s locked in place with the same special belt even though it’s far too big for him. He’s stopped crying, but I can tell from his expression that he knows this is wrong.
