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"Thinks he's funny, does he?" Frank's face darkened. The air thickened with the scent of imminent violence, an electric current that buzzed against Finn's skin.
“Actually, I was a comedian in a former life,” Finn said. “Would you like to hear a joke? It's a brilliant one. It involves the mother of three giants. Well, she's working the streets and...”
Without warning, Frank lunged forward, seizing a rusted car bumper from the ground. It whistled through the air, aimed squarely at Finn.
"Watch it!" Amelia cried out.
With reflexes honed from years in the field, Finn sidestepped, feeling the rush of air as the metal narrowly missed him. His fist shot out, connecting with Frank's midsection—a satisfying thud resonated, but the giant man merely absorbed the blow, unfazed.
"Is that all you've got, little man?" Frank sneered, his large hand reaching out.
"Apparently not," Finn muttered under his breath, the corner of his lips curling despite the situation. He knew well enough when brute force wouldn't cut it.
In a swift motion, Frank's hands clasped around Finn's torso, lifting him effortlessly into the air. Finn's feet dangled, his height advantage nullified. From this new vantage point, the world seemed smaller, the brothers' broad shoulders blotting out the weak autumn sun.
"Put me down, Frank," Finn said, surprisingly calm, even as he dangled like a puppet in the giant's grasp. "I can tell a different joke if you like."
"Do you ever shut up!" Frank growled, his grip tightening.
Finn exhaled slowly, his analytical mind racing through options. He needed to turn the tide, to shift the balance back into their favor. Amelia was already calculating her next move; he could see it in the set of her jaw, the determination in her eyes.
"Amelia," he called out, his voice steady, "care to assist?"
The brothers hesitated, a silent question passing between them. They were brutes but held onto some semblance of chivalry, outdated as it may be in the modern world.
"Assist with what, exactly?" Amelia asked, feigning innocence while her gaze swept the yard for something useful.
"Maybe a lesson in gravity," Finn suggested, still dangling from Frank's grip. "These gentlemen seem to have forgotten that what goes up must come down."
"Sorry, we don't hit ladies," one of the brothers grunted, his biceps bulging like melons under his shirt as he took a step back.
"Lucky me," Amelia quipped, sidestepping a rusty engine block and grasping a jagged piece of metal that looked like it had been part of a car door in a previous life. With a fluid motion born of years on the force, she swung it at Frank's exposed knee.
The impact resonated with a metallic clang, and Frank's face contorted not in pain but surprise as his hold faltered. Finn's feet found the ground with an unceremonious thump, and he couldn't resist, "The bigger they are, the harder they—"
"Fall," Amelia finished for him, dropping the twisted metal and smirking at the sight of Frank rubbing his knee.
Their brief moment of triumph was interrupted by the wail of sirens, and a police car skidded to a halt, gravel spitting out from its tires. Three constables poured out, their expressions caught between concern and bewilderment upon seeing Finn sprawled on the ground and Amelia standing triumphant.
"Should've waited for backup," Finn grumbled from his makeshift seat on the earth, dusting himself off with a sheepish grin. "But I think now we have a good reason to put Frank in cuffs and question him.”
"Arrest these men," Amelia commanded, pointing at Frank Butter and his brothers.
"Assault on a handsome American and obstruction," Finn added, still catching his breath as he got to his feet. His mind was already cataloging the evidence they'd need to justify the charges.
The constables were quick to comply, though Frank towered over them like a mountain over saplings. Cuffs seemed absurdly small in his massive hands, yet he offered them without resistance, a knowing look in his eye that spoke volumes about his confidence.
"Right, let's get you to the station," Amelia said, her tone brooking no argument.
The journey to their car was a short one, but fitting Frank into the backseat proved impossible; his frame was simply too large, his shoulders brushing both sides of the door frame simultaneously.
"Constables," Finn called out, trying to suppress a smirk, "we're going to need transport. And not just any transport—a van, preferably a big one.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Finn was getting fed up with all the driving back and forth, he gripped the wheel hoping this would be his last journey on the case, and that Frank Butter would have something on Vilne.
The car came to a halt, its tires crunching on the freshly laid gravel of the constabulary's parking lot. The Hertfordshire Constabulary Headquarters was a towering edifice of brick and glass, standing sentinel over Garden City like an austere guardian of law and order. Finn Wright, his hands still feeling the vibration of the wheel, stepped out into the brisk air that carried the scent of rain and asphalt. Amelia Winters followed suit, her sharp eyes scanning the surroundings with the meticulous attention of a woman who had long since learned to expect the unexpected.
