Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78024 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78024 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
There are faint red marks on her neck and cheek. I almost hope the asshole who got shot is still alive so we can shoot him again. I wish I could say the protectiveness I feel is just me watching out for my best friend’s little sister, but even I know there’s more to it than that.
She nods and does what I asked.
Hellfire leads the way to the gate, where Shiv and Dragon are waiting with the gate closed. Word must be getting out around the compound because brothers are trickling in, filling the ranks on our side. The pigs brought four fucking cars, so you know they’re prepared for trouble, but only a few cops are actually in the street waiting. It’s tense, but not a standoff. Yet anyway.
Crossing his arms over his chest, Hellfire calls out to the cops, “What do you want?”
A beefy man with stripes on his shoulders, a shiny badge and flighty eyes, steps out of the pack. “There was a report of an assault in Brentport about an hour ago. One of your boys was identified at the scene and a young woman’s gone missing. I know we try to ignore each other as much as possible, but I’ve got a lot of frightened civilians right now and we need to tell them something.”
We operate on the wrong side of the law. They know it and we know it, but the unspoken arrangement between us and the cops always comes down to one thing: don’t fuck with the general public. It’s usually not a problem because we’re not a petty fucking street gang. A lot of our work, running bounties and protection duty like we’re doing for Quinn is even perfectly legal. And the part that isn’t? Well, the people we work with and for are also quietly ignored by the local boys and girls in blue.
“Didn’t know we weren’t allowed in Brentport.” Hellfire snorts derisively. “You got a picture? Or a name at least?”
“We do, I’m afraid. We’re still going over the footage, but your man is clearly involved in some sort of altercation, and we have a clear shot of him running off with the missing woman, Quinn Callahan.”
I’ll give the cop this, he has more balls than most of his kind. If the shit really hit the fan, we do have a few contacts on the force, but in this case we happen to be in the right.
“He was actually on duty.” I step forward. “She’s been receiving threats. He was there as her bodyguard.”
The cop looks suspicious. “I need to see some proof of that, and to speak with both the suspect and Ms. Callahan.”
“It was me.” Sinner takes a step forward. “Check your footage if you need to. I accompanied Ms. Callahan, who was meeting with a friend. A black van showed up while they were walking and several men wearing masks tried to take her away. I got Ms. Callahan to safety, but the suspects fled the scene.”
“Witnesses said they heard a gun. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
“Can’t recall. Any injuries? Damage?” Sinner’s smile is a master class in, ‘Who me, officer?’.
“And Ms. Callahan? She can corroborate your story?”
“I can.” She steps out of cover and moves to my side. Not waiting for my signal, but her timing’s good. Trust an actor to know dramatic timing. “Sinner saved me, and I’m here on my own volition. Without him, I would’ve been God knows where by now.” Her voice is steady, but she slips her hand into mine.
“Quinn!” A woman forces her way out of the back of one of the police cars. Definitely not a cop. Not with that dress and the heels.
Quinn’s mom. She’s older for sure, but Sheila hasn’t changed that fucking much. She presses between a couple of the cops, who halfheartedly try and hold her back. “What are you doing with these people? Come with me. Now. We’re going back to your apartment where it’s safe, and we can talk to the police there.”
Quinn seems to shrink beside me, her shoulders rounding in and her whole attitude changing. “It’s okay, Mom. He was just doing his job.”
Sheila is about how I remember her, but seeing them together really highlights the similarities and differences. Her mother’s still a beautiful woman, always was, but Quinn is a torch to her mother’s fading candle. Hair is a little brighter, eyes a little greener, pale skin dusted with freckles and not dominated by them. The soft signs of age could’ve just made Sheila beautiful in a different way, but once a bitch, always a bitch.
The cop’s eyes widen in recognition when he sees Quinn. “Hey! You’re on that show, aren’t you? The demon lady? My wife loves it. I’ve had to sit through those episodes more than I’m willing to admit.”