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The officer turns his attention back to us, his voice accusing. “Are there other buildings on the premises?”
“There’s a garden shed out back,” Marc grits out. “The key is in the garage next to the stairs. No need to bust the door.”
One of the officers peels away, heading back downstairs.
“There aren’t any children here. It’s just the two of us,” I say in a calm tone. “We live a quiet life when we’re not giving support to the JTFPI.”
“I wouldn’t be waving around your association with that group so freely right now,” one officer sneers. “It’s not the gold badge you think it is.”
My heart skips a beat. “What do you mean?”
The leader leans down and grabs my arm, hauling me painfully to my feet and swinging me toward the kitchen.
“Only the two of you?” He points at the row of still-steaming mugs on the kitchen counter. “You want to revise that statement?”
“We like playing drinking games with hot chocolate.” I toss my hair out of my eyes and smile at him sweetly. “You’ve never gotten frisky over a few cups of cocoa?”
With a snarl, he shoves me at an officer. “Take them in. They can answer our questions while they cool their heels in lockup.”
He turns to the other officers. “Tear this place apart. I want to see studs before you’re done.”
The officer who holds me marches me out the front door, setting off the floodlight once more and illuminating the Clearhelm Police cruisers blocking our driveway.
Gravel slips and slides under my shoes as he fast marches me down the driveway. There, he roughly searches me, taking my batons, two more flash grenades, and my wallet, throwing them into a large evidence bag.
Then, they shove me into the back of an SUV, slamming the door shut.
I twist to stare out the window and watch as another officer tries to manhandle Marc into the back of a cruiser. Marc shakes him off and slides in, sitting ramrod straight with his hands cuffed behind his back.
Two officers climb into the front of my SUV, and they turn on their lights, piercing the dark with red and blue flashes.
We head down the driveway, through the ruined remains of our gate, and out onto the road.
The officer in the front passenger seat turns to peer at me through the grate that separates the front from the back. “Now’s the time if you want to get ahead of this matter.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Is it against the law to play strip poker with hot chocolate?”
His eyes narrow. “We don’t take kindly to child abductors. The service you’ve done for Clearhelm won’t mean shit once you’re behind bars.”
I lean back as best I can with the cuffs pinching into my wrists. “I want my lawyer.”
“You’re going to be serving time for assaulting cops,” he sneers. “Do yourself a favor and cut a deal.”
With the security cameras we turned on after the kids left, those charges won’t stick. They’ll prove the police who first entered didn’t identify themselves, and we used non-deadly force to defend our home.
“Well?” he prods.
I meet his gaze. “Are you questioning me after I requested my lawyer?”
With a snarl, he straightens in his seat. “Fucking bitch. It’s going to be a pleasure to lock you up.”
Silence fills the rest of the drive, and surprise shoots through me when they pass the Clearhelm Police Department and turn onto the access road for New Clearhelm.
Are they seriously going to lock me up in Sharpe’s holding cells? Then again, there are no other holding cells equipped to imprison magical beings.
The SUV pulls up in front of the Woo Woo Squad, and the officer who had tried to make me turn on Marc roughly drags me out of the back.
The driver walks ahead of us, holding open the door, and I meet the surprised gaze of the nighttime security.
