Grip Trilogy Box Set - Kennedy Ryan Page 0,186

the couch and sit. “Just let them get it over with. They won’t find anything.”

“Sir, we’re just doing our jobs,” Officer Mars says softly. “It isn’t personal.”

“Not personal?” Bristol shouts. “What the hell do you mean it’s not—”

“Babe, it’s okay.” I wrap my fingers around hers and pull her to wait with me on the couch. I wave a hand to the room. “Knock yourselves out for nothing. Waste our tax dollars doing this when you could be doing something real.”

“I don’t like this,” Bristol whispers to me as they search the room systematically, finding nothing, of course. “I’m calling our lawyer.”

“They’re almost done. They won’t find anything.”

“What’s this?” Officer Mars pats the back of my backpack, which I notice for the first time bulges more than usual. “I’m going to have to open this.”

He pulls out a pocketknife and slits the back off the bag.

“This is outrageous.” Bristol’s voice stings like a scorpion. “Now you’ll have to replace his bag . . .”

Her voice trails off as a huge block of cocaine in an oversize Zip Lock bag falls from the lining of my backpack.

Officer Mars swears softly, flicking a surprised glance my way. I surge to my feet and point to the bag.

“That shit isn’t mine.”

“It’s in your bag, in your residence,” the other officer says carefully. “Your ID and other items that clearly belong to you are here.”

“Grip, don’t say another word.” Bristol has her phone to her ear. “I’m getting our lawyers on the phone right now. I knew this was some kind of setup. God.”

“Tell the lawyers to meet him down at the county jail.”

“Jail?” The word torpedoes from my mouth at full speed. “The hell I am. I’ve never been to jail a day in my life, and I’m not going now. Not for some shit that isn’t even mine.”

“I’m sure we’ll straighten it out then,” Officer Mars says, his face set in impassive lines, though I can tell it isn’t what he wants to be doing. “We have to take you in, Mr. James.”

It’s all surreal, and none of it sinks in. Not the officer reading me rights I promised my mother I’d never have to hear. Not Bristol’s urgent conversation with Prodigy’s lawyer. Only the cuffs feel real, enclosing my wrists again for something I haven’t done.

“No cuffs,” Bristol’s hard voice batters the officers. “You’ll take the private exit where no one will see, and keep this off the radar as long as you can.”

“Ma’am, with all due respect—”

“You left respect behind when you came into our home and found drugs that don’t belong to us.”

“This isn’t a negotiation,” Officer Mars interjects almost gently.

“Oh, you better believe it’s a negotiation.” Bristol folds her arms over her chest, managing to look imposing even in her casual dress and bare feet. “Here’s the terms. You follow my instructions for getting him out of here and keeping this off the radar as long as possible. How well you follow my instructions determines, when I bring a wrongful arrest suit against LAPD, how deeply I drag the two of you into it.”

There’s no sign of the soft, pliant woman who was in my lap just minutes ago. In her place stands a coldly enraged Valkyrie who looks fully prepared to escort them to the afterlife.

“Which exit did you want us to use?” Officer Mars asks reluctantly.

While Bristol goes over the plan to get me out of the building and down to the county jail, all I can think of is my mother telling anyone who would listen that all she ever dreamt was that I’d have a clean record and never spend a day behind bars.

Sorry, Ma.

Chapter 34

BRISTOL

“THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING.” No matter how many times I’ve said that over the last several hours, this is happening.

Grip is behind bars, and we can’t get him out on bail. With all the money and connections at our disposal, he’s still stuck in county jail with no chance of getting out tonight.

“It’s the weekend,” Barry, the lawyer says again. “There won’t be a hearing until Monday.”

“You’re telling me Grip has to stay in jail until Monday?” The disbelief and fury on Rhyson’s face may match mine, but I doubt it. “For something we know he didn’t do? Hell, even if he did it, we should be able to get him out.”

“He has no criminal record whatsoever. He should be released on his own recognizance.” I’ve said this over and over, and Barry’s answer remains the same.

“They found a