AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Piper’s friend Jane emerged out from behind the sea of flashing lights and headlights to click a set of handcuffs into place on Harris’s wrists.
“Special Agent Steven Harris,” she said. “You are under arrest, for wire fraud, bribery, and the attempted murder of a federal agent. You have the right…”
“Save it, Jane. I’ve been reading people their rights since…” Harris began to say, trailing off into silence.
There, standing by his motorcycle with a sawed-off shotgun in his hands, Devil watched the proceedings with cheerful interest. When he spotted Devil, Harris’s eyes narrowed in sudden, confused recognition.
“What?” he said. “Dr. Redpepper?”
“Hey dude!” Devil said with a little wave. “How’s your butthole?”
“You’re not a doctor?” Harris said incredulously. “You’re a… a… you son of a bitch! What you did to me…”
He began to struggle vainly against his handcuffs, straining against the people holding his arms in his desperate desire to charge at and attack Devil.
“What I did to you?” Devil said, looking confused. “I did you a favor! Loosened your business up for you for your trip to prison. Now all that gang rape won’t be so bad.”
“You bastard!” Harris said.
“You could say thank you,” Devil said.
Harris continued to shout and struggle, dragged off into the night by the cops and FBI until he couldn’t be heard any longer.
“You know, Pony,” Devil said, as they watched him go, “sometimes I feel like people don’t appreciate me.”
“I appreciate you, Devil.”
“You do?”
Pony shrugged. “Most of the time.”
“I’ll take it.”
“So, what happens now?” Carly asked.
“Now?” Piper said. “Now we go home. Free and clear. Wait for the FBI to call me in and let me know what’s what.”
Pony slid an arm around her waist again and said, “And figure the rest out from there.”
She leaned into him, savoring the feel of his firm torso and the warmth coming from it.
“And figure the rest out from there,” she said.
Special Agent Steven Harris was feeling miserable. Hands cuffed in the back seat of a prison bus, asshole swollen and throbbing, the full measure of his complete defeat and failure weighing down on him until his head and shoulders slumped forward under it all.
In the seat in front of him, crying like a baby, was former Philadelphia police officer Ryan Bailey. The bus was full of prisoners being transferred from local holding cells to a prison facility designed to hold them while they each awaited trial.
Harris didn’t know which was worse. The throb in his backside or the slobbering, blubbering whimpers of the bully-become-victim Bailey.
He could shut his eyes and close out of the visuals of the beat-up prison bus full of prisoners in orange outfits, but he couldn’t reach his hands up to his ears to block out Bailey’s out of control weeping.
It would be days before the Bureau came to debrief him on his dealings with Navarro. Only then would he find out what kind of a deal they were willing to offer him. He doubted it would be much. Maybe he could get off with doing his time in a minimum security prison.
Maybe not.
With a sigh, he leaned forward and rested the top of his head on the back of the seat in front of him. As low as he was, he simply couldn’t bring himself to look around the bus and see what his new reality was going to be.
If he had, he might’ve noticed the two men sitting a few seats in front of the sobbing mess that was Bailey. Both very hard-looking Hispanic men. Both might have looked familiar to Harris. Both kept looking back at him, like a pair of wolves watching a deer to see if it was among the sick and weak.
