Page 28 of Bent, Not Broken

“How are you a cop here?” I narrowed my eyes on him. “In this country, I mean. Did they run out of incompetent pricks in the US and send out for a ringer?”

Officer Paxton’s eyes laughed at me, but his mouth stayed a solid line. “Took the exam, like everyone else. Was a marine, if you must know. American as they come, mate.” He popped the T on that last word and gave me a toothy grin.

Shaking my head, I refused to get distracted further. “Fingerprinting takes three minutes, tops, maybe four if you have to ask her to smile for her booking photo, and the ink is dry on the fingerprint pad, and someone has to run to storage for new ink, which shouldn’t be happening with the amount of taxes we pay. You should have the best ink. Endless ink. As far as I can see, you’ve got a jumped-up speeding ticket and no other reason to drag her in here. There’s about thirty-seven laws that protect people from this sort of treatment by the police, at least the people who can afford me.” I wiggled my fingers at him and smiled. “Either you produce my client, right now, or I assure you that the entire department will regret it.”

He remained unimpressed.

Fuck. I stomped the minute distance back over to the postage-stamp-sized interrogation table where I’d tossed my briefcase and picked it up again, ready to march directly to wherever they had Barbara Treme stashed. She was a less-than-forgiving woman as the Road Captain for the Harlot’s motorcycle club. I hesitated to think how she would be acting by the time they let me see her. She could actually manage to get herself in trouble in the station, which the police were possibly banking on.

“You catch more kittens with cream than vinegar. Anyone ever tell you that? You’re a little thing, I’d think you’d have learned how to be nice before now.” There went his eyes again, flashing like something was fucking funny. I really hated it when cops were somewhat likable.

Totally unlike Officer Slater, who was always a delicious jerk.

My stomach twitched anxiously. I wanted to get out of the police station, and I hated that. I had a job to do. I couldn’t be worried about whether or not Slater was going to pop up in here and… what? Remind me of the way he’d held me down and owned my ass on his kitchen table? I fought off a shiver and redoubled my efforts.

“Pretty please, won’t you go and get my client for me?” I strolled over and rested my hand on Officer Paxton’s arm and batted my eyelashes like an asshole. He cracked up laughing, that robot-man routine finally undone. I grinned in triumph as the door opened. My heart jumped into the back of my throat. Slater preceded my client into the room.

Barbara tossed her head and her long, blonde hair flew over her shoulder in a move so flawless even I had to appreciate it. Slater stared at Officer Paxton and I, and his jaw twitched. Another man, probably a detective, edged his way into the semicrowded space. He was tall with dark hair—good-looking—but I didn’t like his suspicious eyes. How had the room gone from okay to packed so fast? Sweat trickled down my back and I could smell Slater’s cologne. I didn’t know how I could pick that scent out. There were four men in the room, but my nose zeroed in on his musk over everything else—testosterone and winter forests. I eyed up Slater and smiled, dropping my hand to my side from Officer Paxton.

“He’s married,” Slater growled, and all eyes turned toward him, including the lovely Ms. Treme, who looked mad enough to zap lasers out of her eyeballs. Her face had a permanent pink undertone to it I didn’t think was natural. She curled her lip in a snarl, but thankfully kept her mouth shut.

“I do not care,” I replied smoothly, before I smiled at Slater and then shifted my attention to the new suit in the room. “You’re a detective?”

“Hanlon. I would like to interview Barb—”

“No.” I laughed and waved my watch at him too. “I don’t know where you’ve been keeping her, but no. Unless you’re booking her, we’re leaving. You’re not, though, because you have nothing.” I waved my hands together like she was safe at home plate, and almost smacked Slater with my briefcase.

Hanlon squinted at me and shrugged. “This little missy had a knife concealed on her person.”

“Not illegal. It’s not illegal, is it?” I asked her, and she shook her head.

“Just a regular folding knife,” she supplied.

“Fantastic. It’s not illegal.” I tipped an imaginary hat at Detective Hanlon and took Barbara’s elbow, trying to urge her back toward the door. She dug in her heels, obviously not used to anyone trying to get her to do anything.

“Yeah, fuck off,” she snarled at Hanlon and held up her hands. Oh, right. She was still cuffed. My face heated and I cleared my throat. Slater rolled his eyes and sighed as he drew his keys out of a pocket to uncuff her. My chest squeezed. Of course he’d been the one to arrest another one of my clients. Yesterday I would have been overjoyed. Right now I wasn’t so sure.

“Someone recently told me that you should be nice to the police. Something about them creaming themselves?” I said with a wink at Officer Paxton as we swept out of the room. Slater sounded like he choked on something, and I ignored him. Completely. Paxton’s laughter followed us into the short hallway. We had to wait to be buzzed into the lobby crammed with cheap plastic chairs and benches, but that was fine because I could practically taste the victory on my tongue. Too bad it was a bit sour. The cop who let us go didn’t seem happy about it.

“They took my bike and impounded it,” Barbara said as we walked together out of the squat brick police station, thankfully via the front doors. It would have been a bad look to go back to the office and tell River we had another client sitting in county. That’s why he’d sent me instead of coming down here himself. He said, and I quote, “Use that charm where it will do some good, instead of getting yourself into trouble.” I wasn’t entirely sure I hadn’t gotten into trouble, but oh well.

“I can take you where you need to go.” I smiled at Barbara, and she laughed.

“That wasn’t bad in there, you know. You got spunk.”

“I did make it through three years of law school. That’s at least as difficult as getting into a club, I think.”

She slapped me on the back, and I wouldn’t admit it to anyone who asked, but it kind of hurt. “Don’t need a ride. One of my sisters has a coffee shop a couple of blocks from here. Want to come with me? I wouldn’t say no to the company on the walk.” She glanced back over her shoulder toward the police station. The detective who’d been in the interrogation room walked out behind us. Unfortunately it was a free country, but I smothered a laugh behind my hand when Barbara flipped him off.

“Hey, bacon, you better not follow us.” She spat in his direction, but the loogie landed short. Ah, bikers. Always lovely.

“Is that a threat?” he yelled back.

“No, Officer. You’re obviously making this beautiful lady uncomfortable,” I called back, defusing the situation as best I could when she flipped him both middle fingers. I offered her my arm, and she giggled and took it.

“So tell me how a genteel woman such as yourself got mixed up with the Harlots.”

She squinted at me, like maybe she didn’t trust me, but then she gave me an easy smile. “Bikes. Ride or die.”