What the fuck? Is he leaving me here? Is this what I get for leaving them?
Glancing back at the door, I don’t have time. I need to make a move.
Finding a place to put my hands, I try to hoist myself up, but the first try is no use. Trying again, my foot rises to the ledge. Gripping the frame, glass pushes into my skin.
“Stop!” Shit. “Stop right there!”
Looking over my shoulder, a lady in a long floral dress stares right at me. Red locks hang in waves on her shoulders, but that's not what strikes me. The gun pointed my way does.
“What are you doing in my husband’s office?” Well, damn. McQueen’s wife is a badass. A click sounds behind me when I try to push through the window. I've been in the 'biz' long enough to know what that sound is. “I said stop! I’ll have the cops deal with you, or my gun will.”
Chapter Eleven
“Why were you in the office?”
“Listen, it’s not what you think.” The cuffs behind my back hurt when I pull, my body sticky and sweaty. The officers take notes as I sit in the cruiser, my time in Clementine flashing before my eyes. Chances are, I won’t be spending the night behind bars. But considering the likely outcome, my father, I much rather a cell.
I should’ve known better than to sign a deal with these boys. I'm only ever a chess piece. A pawn. They left me high and dry.
You left them.
“Miss Marshall?” McQueen stares at me and I can only imagine the look on my face, my knee bouncing inside the cruiser.
“Dean McQueen. I’m so, so sorry.” If I can get out of trouble for sneaking out with my dad, I can get out of this. “I was worried about my grades. Classes are so stressful and I need to know I’m passing. I can’t wait for the results in a few weeks.” Tears burn the corners of my eyes and I wish they were as fake as my story. “If I don’t do well, I’ll have to go back to my home and… please don’t let them take me away.” My voice cracking, a lump forms in my throat. “I have nowhere to go. There is no home for me.”
Dean McQueen sighs in his patchwork blazer. “I warned you, Miss Marshall, we can’t—”
“Please.” Scooting to the edge of my seat, I’m hoping he can see the tears streaming down my cheeks.
His brows rise before his wife calls to him, her green eyes glancing at me with pity. “Edward, wait.”
“Just let us know what you’d like us to do, McQueen,” the officer behind him says. “She’s almost twenty. She’ll await trial.”
My head shakes at McQueen, begging him not to send me with the cops.
"Um, give me one minute." His wife pulls him to the side. They whisper to each other a few feet away and I wish I could hear them, but I fill in the blanks.
“Send her away for good.”
“She’s suspicious.”
“Don’t trust her.”
I’m doomed.
Images of my father's discerning face come to my mind. Dom's deep, sinister laugh. Feliks' lop-sided smirk. This is what they wanted.
My demise.
After what feels like an hour, McQueen comes back, his shoulders low. He mutters something to the cops as my head hangs. An officer gestures for me to stand and I do, waiting for him to read my rights.
But he removes the cuffs.
My head lifts, a weight lifting off my chest with it. "They're letting me go?"
“I’ll take you back to campus.” McQueen whirls his finger towards his car as the cruisers take off. Wiping the tears from my eyes, I take my first big breath in a while. Looking around, the only people left are McQueen, his badass wife, and me. The boys humiliated me enough this week, so I’m happy no one else is around to see my massive fuckup.
McQueen stops at his Rolls Royce. “Mia, you have one more chance. One more chance at SAA or else there’s nothing I can do. It’s time to stop messing around. I can’t afford any more trouble, and from the looks of it, neither can you.”