“He already knows I’m nearby.”
She has a point. “Okay. Get dressed and we’ll go.”Chapter 8MackenzieI stare at my uncle through the cell bars as I stand by the front door. Johnny Boy lurks to the left of me, giving me the creeps as usual. Thankfully, Simon stands by my side, holding my hand while the Sheriff and another Steele Rider I recognize but don’t know stands on the other side.
“Mackenzie, my dear girl. You’ve finally decided to come back,” my uncle beams. I smell the desperation and the evil intent in his eyes. He’s hoping that I’m scared enough to keep my mouth shut, but with Simon by my side, I’m not afraid anymore. His strength passes to me, fills me up, and allows me to let go.
Stepping closer to the bars which causes Simon to tense up, I say, “I’m not going back to Dallas because my home is here with him. I won’t be sold off to your debtors. Human trafficking is illegal and vile. Besides, the most valuable part of me has already been given to Simon so I’m worth a lot less to your buyers.” Simon pulls me back into his embrace, my back to his chest. He’s so growly that I know, holding me is the only thing stopping him from attacking my uncle.
“A little slut. Of course. I should have tossed you out on your ass when your parents died.”
“You didn’t because you got to collect on my parents’ life insurance. Don’t act like you did it out of the goodness of your heart. You spent years reminding me how much of a burden it was having me around. Well you’ve had a year without me and yet here you are hunting me down. I don’t want anything to do with you and I don’t care what happens to you once they realize you failed in getting me back.”
I storm away from the cell, giving him my back and forgetting he even exists because as of right now, this man is absolutely nothing to me.
The large man in a suit, who I can’t quite place introduces himself. “Hello, Ms. Watson. I’m district attorney, William Brandon.” He shakes my hand, and now I remember where I’ve seen him before. He was on the news a while back when they tried to kill him and his wife.
“Hello Mr. Brandon.”
“Mr. Watson said you’re in the possession of one of his vehicles that he reported stolen. Is there any truth to his accusations?”
Remaining as calm as I can be, I answer, “That’s the biggest lie. I purchased the vehicle a year ago after my last payment. I had to wait for my title, but when I learned what my uncle had planned for me I fled. I have proof that I bought it in my emails.” On the drive in, I logged into my Gmail account and found my title information from the purchase of the vehicle. “Here it is.”
Mr. Brandon takes a look at it and says, “Mr. Watson, care to explain her actual bill of receipt, showing her as the purchaser right before she skipped town?”
“Fine. I’ll just leave town.”
Mr. Brandon shakes his head. “No, I believe we’ll be keeping you longer. When your attorney gets here he will have a lot of charges to fight.” He turns to the sheriff and says, “I’m contacting the state police. He may not have crossed state lines to commit human trafficking, but he crossed county lines. I want him transferred until he can go before a judge.”
“I’m here. Where is my client? Son of a bitch. You got here before me,” Mr. Wilton says, no more like shouts through the small station, making his way over to the Sheriff. Simon holds me close again, keeping me away from my uncle’s advocates. Wilton has been my uncle’s lawyer since as long as I can remember. He’s old, but the bastard is still quick-witted. It won’t be very long until he has my uncle avoiding more of these charges. I ran because my uncle is as slimy and slippery as they come.
“That I did, Wilton, you sleazy prick. Your client’s going to be transferred to the county jail until he has his arraignment.”
“What are the charges?”
“Attempted kidnapping, human trafficking, fraud, filing a false police report, and property damage. I believe those are all the charges I have at the moment that I can prove.”
“Can’t we—”
“Quiet, Michael. I’d like to speak to my client alone.”
“Fine. You have ten minutes.”
I give my statement while they wait for transfer. “The day I left, I overheard a conversation with my uncle and a drug dealer. He crossed the wrong people and the only way they agreed to wipe the slate clean is that he’d trade me in and in his words. “I know she’s still pure.” A room of growls echo in my ears as every one of the men get pissed except my uncle’s team of course.