AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I’m dragged from the room as Sullivan is placed in cuffs. Everything has happened so fast, and I don’t know what is going on, but I won’t tell the cops anything.
If they are arresting me, they don’t know shit—I have done nothing wrong.
Huntersville Police Department is one place from my childhood I’m very familiar with for a laundry list of reasons, the main one being we used to pick my mom up from here so often. I’m placed in a room and left on my own. I wouldn’t know for how long because the room is empty besides the table, three chairs, and a surveillance camera.
A female cop finally comes into the room with a bottle of water, and she places it on the table in front of me as she looks me over. Women do it all the time when they find out I work in a brothel, and it puts a nasty taste in my mouth.
“Are you ready to talk?”
I laugh. I have nothing to say to her, and even if I did, it would be helpful to know why I’m here.
The door opens and a man not much older than me walks in with a folder. Ah, here we go with the good cop, bad cop bullshit. He places the folder down on the table and takes a seat next to his partner.
“Is one of you going to enlighten me as to why I’m here? Last time I checked, sex work was legal, and we follow all the rules and regulations.”
“We have a reason to believe you are helping Ronan O’Brien and his associates launder money,” the female cop says.
I snort. His associates—that’s one way to look at them.
“Let me get this straight. In the few weeks our doors have been open, you’ve concluded I’m helping them?”
“You expect us to believe he bought you the business from the goodness of his heart?”
I roll my eyes. “Would you believe me if I told you my pussy was just that good?”
Oh, that makes the guy mad. “Would you believe me if I said we could help you if you help us?”
“So that’s what this is about. You want a rat. I want my lawyer.”
Leaning back in my chair, I cross my arms over my chest. I should have expected something like this to happen. They are cops, and they know who and what Ronan is in this city. I’m taking a wild stab in the dark that they want to send him to jail for the numerous crimes he most likely committed. The thing is, these are Huntersville cops, and half are being paid off by one crime family or another. So the real question is, what did the O’Briens do to this cop specifically?
A female cop with an agenda of vengeance would make more sense; she is pretty, so Cian probably fucked her and didn’t call. She gets up and excuses herself, probably doing her job and getting me my lawyer or my phone call.
Mr. Bad Cop just stares at me. “You know we could protect you.”
Leaning back in my chair, I smirk at him. “Is that right? Where were you when I was raped last month, or when my best friend was raped over and over again throughout her childhood and teen years? Nah, you have already decided about me. I’m a whore from Huntersville, so I must be a crackhead, maybe an alcoholic, with three kids to three different men.”
He narrows his eyes. In response, I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table. “I don’t need your protection—I never have. Whatever blows life gives me, I take them on the chin and come back stronger. The real question is, why me? Why did you think you could get me to flip? Is it my age? Did you think I would be naïve?”
The female cop slips back into the room. “Your lawyer will be here soon. He is helping your friend right now. While we wait, why don’t you open the folder?”
I look down at the table where the manila folder sits in front of the guy. I’m sure they told me their names, but I have no interest in giving a shit.
Opening the folder, the first image I’m confronted with turns my stomach. I’m sure whoever it is—was—was once a human, not that you can tell from the picture.
“Every death or image in there is linked back to an O’Brien,” she says.
Yet something is off with these images. Sullivan is the muscle, but he told me once he just roughs them up. Cian tends to gut them, so if the images were of gutted men, then I’d know it was him. Ronan is more put together, and a single gunshot to the head is more his style. The problem with these photos is there is evidence, and I doubt after an O’Brien was done with someone there would be any evidence left to find.
Closing the folder, I slide it back across the table. “Why show me these? Isn’t that disrespectful to their families? If you had a scrap of evidence, you would have arrested them and not me.”
“We will keep watching you, Ms. Daniels. We are going through everything related to the business, and I really hope everything is run by the book.”
I gasp in mock horror. “Does this face not look like someone who follows the rules, officer? I’m an upstanding member of society. I pay my taxes, look after my grandmother, and service the upstanding men and women in this town. If you’re ever feeling lonely, either of you, come down and the girls and guys at The Range will look after you.”
The female officer smiles at me while the guy scowls. I would bet a good amount of money that someone he loves is a street whore—the hatred in his eyes says as much.
“Look, I don’t know what preconceived notion you have about working girls, but let’s get one thing straight. My workers are clean, and none take drugs, or they wouldn’t be allowed to work with me. They are women and men who do what needs to be done. Some have kids to feed, others are putting themselves through school. No job pays what ours does, I mean, can you say you have ever made over two grand in a night, no? If you are happy to sit on your sixty grand a year, you can, but don’t judge us for doing what we have to.”
