“This is police police brutality,” she cried as her body bent over my hood.
“I don't know. I think I smelled some weed from your car,” I murmured before leaning over her to whisper. “Don't move a single inch… or else…”
I felt every muscle in her body tense before I reluctantly moved away from her heat. When I stepped back, I made the mistake of looking at her. Her small hands looked good in my cuffs.
She had light pink polish on her nails. Such a small detail, but too many unhinged images shot through my mind about those hands. I glanced lower to the baggy skirt that did nothing to hide those wide hips and shapely… I shook my head.
She's a witch, remember that.
“Officer, I—”
“Silence.” I snapped.
She wisely remained quiet while I returned to the car, hoping she was a criminal mastermind in disguise. I wouldn't mind seeing her in the lockup.
I went through her purse and found her driving licence.
Name: Juliette Morgan
Age: 24
She was photogenic even if she was from the city.
It was always the ones from the city that thought they could come into small towns like mine and do whatever the hell they pleased.
Not on my watch.
I left her purse on the passenger seat.
I’d teach this one a lesson she’ll remember long after she leaves Farrows End.
The gravel crunched beneath me as I walked back to her.
“Do you have any dangerous or sharp objects on your person?”
“If I did, they’d be stabbed in your eyes by now.”
I smiled.
“Was that a threat to an officer of the law, Ms Morgan?” I said.
She scoffed and strained to glance over her shoulder. “If it were a threat, you’d know about it.”
I didn’t know if it was boredom—the challenge in her eyes. Or the fact I hadn’t felt this alive in years, but something inside me just… snapped.
I leaned against her and placed my foot against hers before I pushed. I repeated the action with her other foot while she gasped.
“Keep those legs spread and don't move,” I murmured.
Her breathing was shallow and fast—the sound of someone caught between anger and fear.
Perfect.
Chapter 2
Juliette
This was happening. I’d heard about small-town policemen who thought they were above the law. All these years, I’d kept my mouth shut with my family for the sake of peace. Now, at all times, I’d decided to be flippant toward a raging, megalomaniac officer of the law. It was the stress of moving out—real-life consequences for my actions.
