Contingency Plan (Blackbridge Security 3)
“Miss, do you know this man?”
I freeze, halting my struggle when I see a uniformed police officer standing in front of us.
“Miss?”
“Remington.” The warning in his voice is clear, and maybe I react the way I do because he’s managed to foil two escape attempts today and it’s no longer fun for me. Maybe it’s because I’m too embarrassed to face him right now. Maybe I just want to see how he responds to such a situation.
“I’ve never seen him before in my life. He’s trying to kidnap me.”
Flynn’s arms release me immediately. I step away to give the police officer room to work, finally facing Flynn. His eyes never leave mine as the cop instructs him to lie down on the filthy concrete. Even as the cuffs are placed on his wrists, he doesn’t stop watching me. I almost recant when he’s tugged up from the ground violently. Dirt and street debris stain his shirt. The front panels of his slacks looks like he’s rolled around in sidewalk chalk, yet his eyes still never leave mine.
“Go home,” he hisses as the cop tugs him further away.
“Miss, wait right here and let me get him in the car. I still need to take your statement.”
I don’t wait. The second the police officer turns to drag Flynn away, I bolt, heading right back to the valet stand at the salon. It’s ridiculously easy to get my car keys without the valet ticket, and I know that should concern me, but I can’t concentrate on anything other than what’s going to happen to Flynn because of my antics.
I don’t want him fired. He’s only been around for a day, and I still want to get to know him. The mysteriousness of Flynn Coleman intrigues me, and I’m not finished having my fun with him.
The drive back home, I argue with myself that it’s where I want to be and that’s why I’m going there. I’m not heading straight home because that’s what he told me to do. Nope, not even close.Chapter 5Flynn
I could’ve easily convinced the cop on the street that I wasn’t trying to kidnap Remington, but I didn’t argue when he told me to get down. I didn’t name drop or insist she tell him the truth because I needed a little time away from her, even if it meant getting booked into a New York City jail.
The drive to the station is spent with the beat cop cursing under his breath. Clearly, Remington doesn’t listen to anyone, including cops. When he went back to get her statement, she was gone. Despite not having a witness or victim to a crime, I still qualify as an assailant, and he’s taking me in. If I were a real criminal, I’d have this guy’s badge for how he’s reacted, but I understand he’s young and new, and who doesn’t want to rescue a gorgeous woman from a would-be attacker? Especially one flailing around in a damn sundress.
My only regret was not making sure she was okay. With blood running down her leg, it’s clear she tripped or fell in the alleyway as she snuck out of the bathroom window. I knew she was going to. I read over the list of places she likes to escape from. It was in the dossier that Phillip gave me before he left yesterday. I gave her the opportunity, testing her to see if she’d try it twice in one day. It looks like that’s a yes. She’d probably do it over 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.