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Hope flashes in the man’s eyes as I approach.
I watch as his breathing quickens, his nostrils flaring.
Chest rising and falling, he casts a nervous look to the side then quickly looks back to me.
He can’t speak, but it’s obvious what he wants. Even without his eyes begging me.
I could be his angel of mercy. I could give him a slim chance…
“Who the fuck is this asshole?” I ask, raising my voice.
The room goes quiet, and I watch the hope in the man’s eyes die.
He shakes his head back and forth, and I’m sure whatever he’s grumbling against his gag isn’t very nice.
Slowly, I walk around the chair, taking in all the little details. His clothes. His cleanliness. The lack of visible tattoos. I search for anything that could identify him but everything is completely normal.
He’s dressed like an average middle class Joe, wearing khaki shorts and a light blue polo.
There’s no way to identify him from looks alone.
But there is something weirdly familiar about him. Like maybe I’ve seen him before…
Which makes absolutely no fucking sense. I don’t mingle with assholes like him.
When I get no answer, I shoot a glare toward the desk. “Well?”
Lucifer smirks as if he’s amused, but Simon’s face is flushed red.
Annoyed and impatient, I stop in front of the man.
He glares at me, and I try to ignore the little spark of glee I get from it.
There’s definitely… something… about being the one holding the power.
I could do anything I want to him and he couldn’t stop me…
Reaching forward, I grab the corner of the duct tape slapped over his mouth and rip it off.
“Fuck!” the bound man shouts in pain.
I take a small step back and toss the moist strip of duct tape away.
“Who the fuck are you?” I repeat as I wipe my hand off on my dress.
Huffing, his face flushed almost as red as Simon’s, the man glares at me as if he doesn’t want to answer me.
Sighing, I shake my head.
I’m probably his only chance at getting free, but if he wants to be a fucking moron I can’t do shit.
I start to turn away, ready to get the fuck out of here, when he finally grumbles, “Martin.”
Rolling my eyes, I say, “Yeah? Martin? That’s it?”
I’m totally not in the mood to pull information out of this guy.
But there has to be a reason he’s here during my ‘interview’. There’s no way this wasn’t intentionally set up.
“Martin Sudinski,” the man says louder. “Lieutenant Martin Sudinski with the Garden City Police Department. And you’re fucked when I get out of here!”
“What?” I gasp, but I’m so shocked and breathless I’m probably the only one who heard it.
“You’re fucked this time, Lucifer. Fucked!” Martin roars and struggles against his chair, all the veins in his neck popping out. “You won’t get away with this shit!”
I slap my hand over my mouth and take a stumbling step back.
Enraged now that his gag is gone, Martin fights against his bonds. Rocking the chair from side to side.
I watch him for a few seconds in absolute horror then whip around to face Simon and Lucifer.
“You kidnapped a fucking cop?” I ask shrilly, my voice rising with each word. “And tied him to a chair? Are you out of your fucking minds?!”
Lucifer stares at me for a moment.
A stare so heavy I can feel it weighing my soul.
Then he smiles and shrugs. “It would appear so.”
The world around me seems to spin and tilt.
Is this a nightmare?
It has to be a fucking nightmare.
This can’t be for real.
“I’m going to personally make sure they throw your ass in with the biggest, hardest motherfuckers in Gen Pop! And while you’re getting acquainted with your new boyfriends, me and the boys are going to pay that pretty wife of yours a visit!” Martin yells.
The bolts holding the chair to the floor squeal in protest as he throws all of his body weight forward.
I struggle to get my breathing under control. On the verge of hyperventilating and passing out.
“You’ve gotten away with a lot of shit in this city, Lucifer, but you won’t get away with this!” the man screams so hard he sprays me with spit.
The spit might as well be a splash of ice water, bringing me back to the moment.
Everything suddenly sharpens into crystal clear focus, and I finally process every word the cop said.
Heaving against the duct tape wrapped around his chest, the cop’s bloodshot eyes snap to mine. “If you know what is good for you, you’ll fucking untie me.”
“You—you know I have nothing to do with this,” I stumble out then shoot a quick peek at Lucifer and Simon.
Lucifer watches me with a look of dispassion, like he couldn’t give a fuck about any of this. Crossing his arms in front of chest, he appears bored.
