Page 21 of Donut Overthink It

“Hey!” I shout as she lets out a cry from his force. He then presses his hips into her ass to keep her against the desk, and my blood boils at the position he has her in.

The other officer shoves me backward when I go to step forward. Then I hear the cuffs click into place.

“What did I do?” she asks as she starts to panic.

“You are under arrest for prostitution,” he informs her.

“What?” she shrieks. “No. No. No.” She shakes her head quickly as he pulls her to stand. “I didn’t do anything …”

“I wanna see your warrant,” I demand.

“Don’t need one, sir,” the officer answers.

My jaw tightens because he is right. He doesn’t need one.

I try to get around the officer, but he won’t budge. And if I touch him, he’ll take me to jail too. These cops aren’t playing fair. I can tell by the way they’re manhandling her. Fuck, she can’t weigh more than a hundred and twenty pounds. Not like she can take them.

“Hadley.” I say her name, and she looks up at me. It’s the first time I’ve ever said her first name out loud, and I love the way it sounds. But I hate the circumstances that it was said in. I wanted the first time for her to be in my bed. He starts dragging her toward the elevator. “Don’t say a word.”

“But I didn’t …”

“Don’t say a fucking word!” I snap, and she closes her mouth. The other officer finally walks away from me toward the elevator as well. They get on and the moment the door closes, I pull out my phone to make a call.

CHAPTER EIGHT

HADLEY

“I DIDN’T DO IT,” I CRY AS I STAND IN the elevator. My hands cuffed behind my back. The metal digs into my skin, and I can’t help but wiggle my wrists.

The two officers that just came into my work don’t say a word to me and just look straight ahead at the closed elevator doors. My heart pounds in my chest, and my throat tightens.

I know Mr. Kyle told me to keep my mouth shut, but I can’t. “How did you know I was at work?” I try a different approach. It doesn’t work. Had they gone to my apartment first?

The elevator comes to a stop, and I stand there as they move forward. I can’t do it. I can’t will my legs to move. They feel like they’re cemented to the floor.

The bigger man who threw me down on the desk, grabs my upper arm and yanks me forward. “Please …” I beg as my legs threaten to give out. They may have to carry me.

“Miss Burns?” The security guy at the front desk looks at me with his brows pulled together, and I open my mouth to ask him to help me, but I close it. It won’t do me any good.

Tears run down my face, and my body starts to physically shake as they open the rear door to the police car that waits for us curbside.

They all but shove me in and then fasten my seat belt. The seats are so small. The space so tight. My arms fall into the cutouts that rest behind me, and I struggle harder in the cuffs.

They slam the door, and I let out a sob that I can’t hold back as they talk among themselves.

This can’t be happening. I didn’t do it! I’m not a prostitute. They have the wrong person.

The officer falls into the driver seat. “I can prove I’m innocent,” I say, and he snorts. “I can,” I all but shout frantically. “Bank statements. You can go through mine.” If I was a prostitute, then I’d have proof of money being deposited. There’s always a trail.”

He goes back to ignoring me as he throws the car in drive and pulls away from the curb.

I want to scream. Kick the seat in front of me. Throw a fucking fit like a child who had her favorite toy taken away.

I catch sight of Aiden’s bright red Lamborghini pulling out of the parking garage, and I close my eyes as a tear rolls down my face. I probably just lost my job on top of everything else.

Thirty minutes later, I stand next to an officer who has a tight grip on my right upper arm with my hands still cuffed behind my back. They act like I’m gonna climb them like a spider monkey or something.

I look around the busy precinct. Everyone ignores me. The bigger officer was pulled to another room the moment we walked in, and he deposited me here with a don’t go anywhere growl.

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