Contingency Plan (Blackbridge Security #3) - Marie James Page 0,13
and over as many times as possible if time permitted. Some would call that tenacious. I think she’s a royal pain in the ass.
“Should be ashamed.” I tune in and hear the cop say, “What if someone went after your sister or wife or mother like that? Guys like you make me sick.”
I simply nod in agreement because I feel exactly the same way about men who hurt and prey on women, but he only sneers at me in the rearview. There’s no doubt in my mind, if this guy was given the opportunity with ten minutes alone with me and zero repercussions, he’d beat my face in.
Thinking I’ll get booked in then offered a phone call, I calmly allow myself to be escorted into the police station. The cop beside me gives me a little extra twist of the wrist, causing pain to shoot up my arm. In a way, I understand where he’s coming from. The guy thinks I’m a kidnapper at best, and a rapist sicko at worst.
I’m not escorted to booking, however. He shoves open a door, pushing me in the middle of the back into a dark room. I grunt in disapproval as my face is pressed into a wall and the beat cop pats down my pockets, removing my personal belongings before handcuffing me to a heavy metal table in the center of the room, all the while not saying a word. The disgust and bravado he displayed in the squad car on the drive in is only hinted at in his irritated actions and the scowl on his shadowed face. The room is very as seen on TV, and oddly enough, I think I’ve been in this interrogation room before. Only I was on the opposite side of the table then, my back to the two-way mirror instead of facing it.
The cop places my things in a bag, sealing it in front of me before walking out of the room. I know most people would be terrified to be left in a dark room with only the red EXIT sign putting off a little light, but the quiet and darkness makes me want to drop my head to the table and catch up on some of the sleep I lost last night.
I don’t know how long I sit, waiting for a detective to show his face, ready to grill me on my actions, but as time drags on, I’m unable to relax. The thoughts of grabbing a nap flew out the window seconds after I considered it. Remington was left alone on the street. In my haste to get some time away from her, I left her vulnerable. Any attempt to shove the threatening stack of letters out of my head is impossible.
My fingers twitch, tension racking up my blood pressure the longer I sit. My leg, bouncing up and down is sore from the impact of Remington’s heels as she flailed in my arms, but it has nothing on the discomfort I’m feeling for doing something so foolish.
She could be seriously hurt. She could’ve been nabbed a block from where I was arrested mere moments after the cuffs were clicked in place, and time is just wasting away while I sit here waiting for whatever they plan to do to me.
An eternity passes before the door opens, only it isn’t some amped-up detective walking into the darkened room and bitching about the lights not being on.
“Jesus, fuck,” the guy complains, and even before the lights flicker on causing me to squint, a smile is spreading across my face. “Kidnapping celebrities now, Coleman? Oh how the mighty have fallen.”
A chuckle bubbles out of my throat as Ryan Booker takes the seat across from me.
“You know better,” I say, lifting my hand to shake his only for it to be prevented by the cuff around my wrist. “Remington—”
“Is fine,” he interrupts. “I made sure she was at home.”
“She could be lying if you called.”
“I’m not a rookie, asshole. I spoke with house staff.”
“Good.” I nod my head for extra effect, letting the tension in my back drain away a little. It won’t go completely away until I set my eyes on her, but for now, knowing she’s safe, I can relax some.
“You’re the third.”
My brows furrow as I look at him. “Third?”
“The third guy she’s had arrested much the same way.”
“And no repercussions? It’s criminal.”
He shrugs. “Eh. What can you do?”
“You can take these cuffs off.” I look down at my wrist, shaking it