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Two of the other officers approach us slowly, their hands on their guns in their holsters. “Elias Ford and Wyatt Keller, you’re under arrest for embezzlement. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can be held against you in a court of law.”
I only get to glance over my shoulder for a second before I’m thrown to the ground, my shoulder hitting the carpet painfully as one of them wrenches my arms behind my back.
This can’t be happening.
We’ve always kept our business shit above board. We had to, considering who we were getting in bed with.
Wyatt grunts as he’s thrown to the ground beside me, but he doesn’t share my confusion. He’s fucking mad. The rage in his eyes rivals that of a bull staring down a red flag, but he doesn’t fight against the young police officer who puts his hands in cuffs much more gently than mine had.
“Leighton,” I whisper. What if she doesn’t know what happened? What if she thinks we abandoned her.
“This is her dad,” Wyatt tells me quietly. “The police commissioner is dirty as they come.”
My eyes widen. “It’s a trap.”
For the first time the anger in his gaze falters, fear bleeding into the blue.
This isn’t a coincidence. They planned this to take her from us.
But they have to know these charges won’t stick, and when we get out, we’re coming for our angel.
CHAPTERFIFTY-FOUR
LEIGHTON
Nausea crashes into me as soon as consciousness comes, but the memories are slower to return.
We were at the club. Elias and Wyatt showed me the night of my life, gave me everything I ever could have wanted, and then…
Nothing.
It’s like there’s a whole chunk of time I can’t account for and no matter how hard I push my mind, the memory just isn’t there.
I haven’t been able to force my eyes open yet. It hurts too much to think about, let alone execute, so I haven’t bothered trying.
At least not until someone clears their throat from beside the bed.
As soon as I open my eyes I realize why I didn’t want to open them in the first place. The smells were too familiar, the cold ambiance too obvious for me to allow myself to accept.
I’m at my parents’ house in my childhood bedroom.
My eyes settle on my mother staring down at me disapprovingly. The memory crashes into me all at once, almost stealing the air right from my lungs.
“You drugged me,” I croak.
“I did what I had to do to get you back where you belong.”
“I don’t belong here,” I snap.
“No, you’re right. You belong with Jason.”
“He beat me!” I shout, unable to keep a lid on my emotions. “He threw me down the stairs and tried to rape me.” The memory of it brings panic so stifling my chest feels like it’s about to collapse. What if she sends me back to him? What if I can’t escape again?
“You can’t rape a partner, dear. You give blanket consent just by being with them.” She looks down at me like I’m the one talking crazy. What in the eighteenth century is she on about?
“You’ve been married to a cop your whole life, mother. I’m sure you’re aware that’s not what the law says.”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s irrelevant what the law says, Leighton. Women like us do what we’re told when we’re told to ensure our husbands have everything they need.”
