He took his cell out of his pocket and started pulling up restaurants close to Hart’s house. See if the big guy wants Chinese tonight. Free felt so high he didn’t notice that Officer Vasquez was standing directly behind. Free stepped onto the elevator and turned to push the button for the top level, Vasquez was there—with his thick chest stretching his uniform top—to prevent him from getting off. Free gritted his teeth, inching over to the far-most corner. There were four other goddamn elevators in the lobby and Vasquez always got on the same one as him.
The officer’s smile was vulturine as the doors closed slowly behind him. “Lennox Freeman. Surprise, running into you here…alone.”
Free
Free peeked at the camera in the corner of the elevator, fiddling with his smart watch. Someone had to be watching. Shit, what if they’re not paying attention. Free exhaled, hoping he’d keyed in the correct sequence on his watch. There was no way Vasquez would be stupid enough to mess with him in a monitored elevator in a police station. Highly unlikely. Free suddenly realized his chest wasn’t tight, and his breathing was steady. He glanced over at the officer who was leaning against the other panel, facing him with his arms folded over his chest and his feet shoulder-width apart. As if he was ready for combat.
“What the hell are you looking at?” Vasquez barked suddenly, making Free jump. He sneered, “Fuckin’ punk.”
Free wasn’t scared at all, he was angry. And he was sick of men—grown ass men—getting off on tormenting others. They weren’t in the schoolyard anymore. But, sometimes bullying went deeper than that, and he was met with a person as screwed-up as Vasquez whose brain had never fully developed. Free could put a stop to all of this—he just had to find his balls. Your boyfriend’s a SWAT captain…have some balls.
Free turned slowly and faced Vasquez, leaning casually against the back wall and responded in the best way he could, “Fuck you.”
Vasquez took a step forward. “S’cuse me?”
“You heard me. I didn’t stutter.” Free was surprised at how even his voice sounded.
“Well look who’s trying to have a damn spine all of a sudden? Probably because of the camera, but did you know that Murano—the officer on duty supposedly watching right now—doesn’t give a shit. If he’s not engrossed in his magazine.”
Free shrugged. “Not really concerned.”
“You should be.” Vasquez inched closer, his meaty fists clenching at his sides.
Free felt little to nothing. No shortness of breath, no paralysis in his joints, nothing. That was the way bullies kept their power—by preying on their victim’s fear. He refused to stay afraid. There came a point where he needed to stop running. He’d found something special here in Atlanta and he wasn’t letting anyone run him away from it…again. If Free could escape his father and a major London crime family, then this little motherfucker in front of him should be a piece of cake. Free breathed evenly and remembered who his friends were. He smirked, “But, I’m not.”
“Maybe it’s time I stopped talkin’.” Vasquez glanced up as the elevator began to slow toward the top level. He was in Free’s face as they stood eye-to-eye, and never once did Free cower away. “I will make it my life’s mission to take all of you down. Fuck police work. My only job is tanking your careers the same way you screwed with mine.”
Free stared at him as if he was bored, and that seemed to piss his bully off even more. Perfect. Keep right on talking, you fuckin’ wanker.
Vasquez pointed a thick finger in his face. “I’m not one you want to fuck with. I don’t care if I have to make up something, I’ll take all you dick-sucking bastards down one-by-one. You’re already grounded, so now seems like the perfect time to start.” A vein bulged in the center of Vasquez’s forehead while he hurled his best shots.
“You’re right.” Free stood to his full height, his voice stern and confident. “It’s about time we stopped talkin’. You want a war with me, then lets fuckin’ go. How you wanna start, huh? Small? You better not, because I’m coming out guns blazing.”
Vasquez stood there confused, his mouth parted but no words coming out.
“I think I’ll start with suspending your driver’s license.” Free snickered at Vasquez’s puzzled expression. “No. Revoking.” He pulled his mini tablet from his breast pocket and quickly hit a few keys. The elevator doors opened half way. “I’m not finished with you. Close.” The doors stopped suddenly as if they now operated at Free’s command.
Free typed another sequence and the doors closed and opened again. “Stop,” Free said and the doors paused three-quarters way open. “Close.” The doors shut again. The car was quiet, as if the motor had been shut off.