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“Yes?”
“You’re under arrest.”
Fuck me, this holding cell’s small. And boring. Insanely boring. It shouldn’t be because douche is here with a cop friend, and they’ve been trying to taunt me.
The only thing I’m irritated about is the lack of one phone call. Though I haven’t decided whether it’s gonna be Tizio or Nadie.
Probably Tizio—or Nicolo—because he can let Nadia know, call in the lawyers, and get these asshole’s asses busted.
But they’re bordering on being irritated.
“Let’s see,” says douche, standing as far back from the cell as he can. As if I can hurt him from here. “Illegal weapons—”
“Got all the permits,” I say right as the cop buddy says almost the same thing.
“Drugs,” continues Riff Raff. “Probably intent to sell.”
“Yeah,” I mutter under my breath, “because I always come to a small town to buy overpriced subpar drugs in a convoluted way to sell them on.”
“Riff.” The cop shifts uneasily.
“I don’t even have aspirin.”
“We’re searching your hotel room,” Riff says.
“We? You’re a cop too?” I beckon him closer. “And is there a warrant?”
“Riff, go. You, shut up.”
I stop myself from saluting the cop. There’s a line where insolence causes major trouble and I’m about right up against that thing. Not that I’ve said too much that’s insolent, but these guys all seem very sensitive to me.
“And the assault.” Douche points at his face.
I shrug. “I did that. But he’s clearly fine, and it was after he pushed uninvited into someone’s home. Threatened her, bruised her arms, and threatened to punch her. So, yeah, I stopped him.”
The cop turns to Riff. “That true?”
“He’s lying.”
“Now, I have to check in with Nadia. You know that. Get the fuck out, Riff.” The cop turns to me. “And keep quiet. I’ll let you know when the phones are running.”
The phone on the main desk rings in the middle of him saying this.
So, I sit and go over everything, hoping like hell I’ll get that phone call sooner or later.
* * *
I must have been in holding for five hours. It’s past seven, the sun’s down and no call, nothing.
But the cop comes up to me and clangs the keys over the bars. “Must be your lucky day. Someone posted bail.”
I get my things, they process me out, and there she fucking is.
My Nadie.
And she’s pissed as hell.
ChapterTwenty-Two
