Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 72756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“Yeah?”
“Good.” She holds out a clipboard and a pen through the bars. “I need you to sign off on a couple of things. And then you're going to be transferred into the city, where they have better facilities.”
I look it over. I'm pretty sick of signing forms because other people want me to. “What if I don’t sign?”
She sighs and I nearly apologize for making her day harder but manage to stop myself. “Then the same thing happens but it looks worse on your record and isn’t nearly as pleasant.”
“And after that?”
I must sound pathetic, because her expression softens, just a little. “It depends on the results of the investigation, and if you’re implicated, then how good your lawyer is. Until then, you're going to be a guest of our fair state.”
“This sucks. I didn’t do it.” Well, I did, but not on purpose.
Her smile looks a little forced, or resigned, like she's heard that a million times before. “Then you'd better hope your lawyers can convince the jury and the judge.” She takes the clipboard from me and turns to leave.
“Wait! Don't I get a phone call?”
She turns back. “You've watched too many movies. As long as you don't give us trouble, you get as many calls as you need, but we'll be listening. I’d recommend a lawyer, or someone who can contact one for you.”
“Um, can I make a call, then? Please?”
She pauses a moment looking me over, like she's making sure I'm not going to be trouble. But then she nods. “Yeah. Sure. I'll be back in a moment.”
A minute later, she returns with a portable handset, and hands it to me through the bars. “The call will be recorded. I'm required to tell you that.”
I nod. “Thanks.”
It's not even through one ring before Crash's voice says, “Speak to me.”
Even just his voice makes me feel a little better. “It’s Summer. I'm in so much trouble. I’m in jail” Everything that's happened comes tumbling down on me at the sound of a friendly voice, but I choke it all in along with the urge to sob into the phone. The sergeant isn't going to wait for me forever just so I can blubber over the phone.
“I know, sunshine. Keep your mouth shut and hold tight. Don’t tell anyone a fucking thing, even me.”
“Okay.” I feel very small and afraid, but big bad bikers know how to deal with this, right?
“Are you all right? I know it’s gotta be scary, but you’re fucking strong, you got that?”
I don’t feel it. “I guess. I’m fine, just worried.”
The officer looks at me and makes a ‘get on with it’ motion.
“Oh, um. Can you contact a lawyer or something for me? I don’t know how I’ll pay, but I’ll figure something out.”
“We’ll take care of everything. You just stay safe. Do you trust us?”
“More than anything.”
“Good. Hold on, Summer. We’re coming.”
It feels good to hear him say that, even if I’m not sure it will help.
“Okay, I think the officer wants the phone back. I should probably go.”
“Fuck him.”
“Her.”
“Fuck her too. I want to keep hearing your damn voice,” he growls into the phone and it makes me smile a little.
The sergeant yawns and holds out her hand. “Time’s up, princess.”
33
SUMMER
The back of the police van is roomy with just me and the two officers set to watch me. Still, I feel hemmed in, mentally cramped even if I can stretch my legs out all I want. Maybe it’s being handcuffed behind my back. That might be it.
They’re treating me like a dangerous criminal, and not a woman who's lived nearly her whole life sheltered. It’s not hard to keep my mouth shut like Crash told me. Nobody even tries to talk to me. One is spending most of her time joking with the driver, chatting through the mesh that separates us from him, while the other has his face down in his cell phone.
Escorting us is a regular squad car ahead, and another following, its headlights throwing stark shadows through the metal mesh covering the back windows. They could've tossed me in here alone, and I still wouldn't be able to break out.
The sun was already down when they pulled me out and put me in this van, and it makes me sad. I’m starting to suspect I’m not going to see it for a while.
And I miss the guys. Their voices. Their faces. The safe feeling of being in their arms. I'm not in a good state to be alone. Even I know that.
But what can I do about it?
What can they do about it?
“What the fuck is that?” the driver asks, glancing up at the rear view mirror. “Do you hear it?”
I quiet my internal voice long enough to make out a faint rumble. Almost like the roll of thunder, one of those that start really low and grow louder and louder until it washes over you. Only it keeps growing.