Page 14 of The Agreement

“Now!”

Shit, he hadn’t even put the car in park. Roman’s heart raced like thundering hooves in his chest as his gaze darted from the cops in front of him, and the rapidly closing garage door behind him in the rearview mirror.

He could have made it—would have—if not for Anastasia reaching over and digging her red stiletto nails into his arm with enough force to drag Roman’s attention away from the danger he still faced.

“What the fuck are you—”

She didn’t even finish her sentence before the windshield was shot out of the Bugatti. Roman had enough sense to turn his face away from the exploding glass, but he couldn’t say if Anastasia had been smart enough—or quick, for that matter—to do the same. His low fuck hissed through the car when he turned his head just in time to see brass knuckles coming for the driver’s side window.

It was over, then.

Roman knew it.

His hands went up, and all he said, hoping Anastasia would hear, was, “Be easy, shit.”

Two cops went for him immediately—one must have got the car in park because the damn thing didn’t roll away when he found himself some distance away from the car, face down to cement with hands on his back and shoulders.

A knee found the middle of his shoulders, too.

“Nice place, Roman,” he heard one of the cops say above him. “Always wondered what it looked like inside.”

Christ.

“This was a setup,” Roman hissed as he watched the scene unfold.

Anastasia was pulled from the car, too, but it only took one pig to do the job on that side of things. The horror filling her face as tears streamed down her cheeks did nothing to ease the rough handling of the officer that dragged her to Roman’s side on the cement floor. It also didn’t stop her from fighting the man every step of the way.

He had to give her that.

Somehow, Roman got the feeling that she didn’t know what role she had played in this scheme—if that’s what this had been—but if she did ... he would make her wish she hadn’t.

Roman tensed when the weight of the officer’s knee came firmer into his back, the pain spearing through his spine instantly. “I said fucking easy, asshole.”

The cop only laughed. “It’s going to be a long night for you, buddy.”

Stale breath wafted over his shoulder. He’d have given anything to be able to drive his fist through the man’s rib cage in that second.

Life didn’t work that way.

And this wasn’t his first rodeo.

Roman was well aware what a stunt like that could potentially cost him, and already, he could count the charges he was going to have piling up.

Anastasia was the one who still hadn’t got the memo to stay still, say nothing, and let the ball roll. Her unholy fit continued with the same cop who did his best to keep her contained on the floor.

“Let me go. You have to let me go! They will kill me.”

Her screams flew over the cops.

Unheard.

Not for him, though.

She’d mentioned her idea of freedom earlier, and the word was still lingering in the back of his mind. As the cops barked back and forth—waiting for their back-up down the block, apparently, yet another sign this had been a planned event—he turned to the screeching redhead at his right.

“You wanna be free?”

Anastasia sucked in a shuddering, sobbed, “W-what?”