Fighting to Be Free (Fighting to Be Free 1)

“She’s not a slut!” I snapped. I threw my shoulder back harshly, making the guy tighten his hold on me as I struggled against him. I wanted to grab them and shove them back in my pocket to protect Ellie’s modesty, but with my hands tied behind my back all I managed to achieve was a pain in my chest where the guy slammed me against the desk roughly.

The desk clerk smiled teasingly as he toyed with the panties before putting them in the bag too. I was battling against my anger; my jaw was aching where I clenched it so tightly. He picked up the last item, the black ring box. “Wow, nice. Is this real?” he asked as soon as he lifted the lid.

I nodded, not wanting to speak more than necessary.

He raised one eyebrow, looking at it longingly. “My wife would love me forever if I gave her that,”

he muttered, showing it to the cop that was holding me. Anger flared even more as he whistled appreciatively.

“Maybe you should buy her one then,” I growled. “Put it in the f**king bag because I’m gonna need that when I get out of this shithole!”

The desk clerk raised one eyebrow and snapped the box closed, tossing it carelessly into the bag.

“One silver diamond ring,” he muttered, scribbling on the pad again.

“It’s white gold,” I corrected, glaring at him. I had a strong feeling that the ring wouldn’t be in the bag by the time I got out of here and had to sign for my belongings.

The guy shrugged not bothering to change the form as he shoved it towards me. “Sign here,” he stated. There was a fumbling at my back and the cuffs sprang off of my wrists. I grabbed the pen and wrote my name on the bottom before crossing out the ‘silver’ on the description and changing it to white gold, which made the desk clerk growl in frustration and rip the pad and pen from my hand. “Take him to three,” he ordered.

The cop behind me grabbed my arm, tugging me forward. My eyes flicked to the line of guys waiting for processing. Terry’s defeated gaze met mine and he smiled sadly, as if he already knew that he was going back inside too. I let the cop lead me along and then I was shoved into a small holding cell. As the door slammed closed behind me I closed my eyes, not needing to look at my surroundings to know that the room would be painted grey, with just a bed jutting out of the wall and a blue mattress on it. I didn’t need to look because I already knew this place too well from where I was kept in it before.

I walked the couple of steps to the wall and leant against it before slumping down and pulling my knees up to my chest. All I could think about was Ellie and how much she was going to hate me for screwing everything up. It was probably now about four in the morning and I was supposed to pick her up in less than seven hours so that we could go to the airport and start our new lives. Instead, everything had changed because of one stupid night. Even though he was dead, the resentment started to build against Brett because I wasn’t even supposed to be there tonight; if he hadn’t forced me then I wouldn’t be in this situation now, facing jail and a life without the girl that I loved. But I couldn’t hate him though, I actually really liked the guy and although he’d done bad things in his life, he deserved better than to die in a dusty old workshop. I was really going to miss him.

…...................................

A click of the door lock made me look up and stop fiddling with the zip on my hoodie. I’d been here forever already; it felt like hours that I’d been pacing around the room like a caged animal. I had no idea what the time was though because they’d taken my watch. The grey walls of the eight foot cell were driving me crazy as I struggled to remain composed and not smash everything up in frustration.

The door opened to reveal a new cop that I hadn’t seen before. “Jamie Cole, your turn for questioning,” he muttered, motioning with his hand for me to walk out.

I sighed with relief that I would get to step outside of the cell and see something other than the grey walls. I even welcomed the questioning because that would give me something else to think about.

“What time is it?” I asked curiously.

“Just before six,” he muttered as I walked to his side. Wow, had I seriously only been here for two hours? It felt like an eternity already. His hand clamped on my arm tightly. “Am I going to have to put cuffs on you, or are you going to behave?”

I smiled. “I’ll behave,” I confirmed. I’d always respected authority, I’d done wrong, I’d been caught, that was all there was to it really. These guys were just doing their jobs. He nodded, looking a little weary as he guided me out of the cell and down the narrow hallway. I could hear people shouting inside the other holding cells as we passed them. I recognised one voice as Byron; he was ranting and banging around inside his cell, screaming about the inhumanity of being locked up with no windows. I stifled a laugh - from what I remembered of him, the guy was claustrophobic.

My surroundings didn’t really register as we weaved through the station, cops passed, not making eye contact with me - obviously because I was scum - and the detainees that I saw were all too busy with their own worry to think about me or pay me any attention. Finally we got to a wooden door with a strip stuck on it labelled ‘Interrogation Room 6’. The cop opened it and motioned for me to go inside.

Inside the room was a desk with four chairs around it, a tape recording system and nothing else. My eyes flitted to the wall of what appeared to be mirrored glass. The cop I was with pointed to one of the chairs, instructing me to sit and that my interrogating officer would be here shortly. I slumped down into the chair, unable to resist sending a little wave in the direction of the glass wall, knowing there would probably be people in there watching me.