Page 98 of Kings Don't Break
“I’m fine,” I clarify. “I’m not hurt. It’s Blake. He’s been arrested. He needs us to come get him.”
Sydney walks up behind Mason in a sleep shirt, her mouth stretched open in a deep yawn. The sleepiness wipes out of her expression the second she realizes it’s me at the door. Then she’s stepping closer, wedging herself into the doorway as if she’s about to ask me if I’m okay.
“Arrested,” Mason repeats, then shakes his head. “For what?”
“He didn’t say. He told me to get you. We have to go, Mason. Something tells me Ken’s involved.”
“I’ll throw something on and head over.”
“I’ll come with you,” I say.
“Me too,” adds Sydney.
Mason gives us stern looks. “You two stay here. I’ll handle it.”
Sydney puts her hands on her hips. “I’m coming. The last thing we need is you losing your temper too and winding up in a cell next to Cash. The more of us show up, the better. The less they’ll be able to pull anything.”
“I’m going to bail out Blake with or without your help,” I say with equal defiance. “I’m not letting Ken abuse his power by punishing Blake to get to me.”
The hard look Mason gives the both of us speaks volumes. He’s not happy with the idea of us tagging along, but he recognizes we won’t give up. It’s better if he keeps us with him to avoid the headache of us going rogue.
“Alright,” he grits out. “But you stay quiet and follow my lead. You want to talk about corruption, we don’t know what the fuck we could be walking into. What they might try to pull on any of us.”
An icy shudder runs through me. It wouldn’t be above Ken to turn his ire on me. Even when acting in an official capacity. Just a few weeks ago, he’d stopped me on the side of the rode and almost…
…I don’t know what he’d planned to do that afternoon.
Sydney and I squeeze into the front seat of the pickup truck Mason’s driving.
“Tom’s truck,” he says, a hint of bitterness in his voice. “Guess something of his finally serves a use.”
For the rest of the drive to the police station, we’re silent. My heart and mind race each other—panicked thoughts and thumps that torture me all at once.
Blake had sounded exhausted. Maybe unwell. What had they done to him? What has Ken done?
I blink away the tears in my eyes, cursing the moment I ever got him involved in my problems.
Sydney notices I’m tearing up and puts her arm around me. “We’ll get it figured out,” she says. “Mace will get him out.”
* * *
Three and a half hours later, morning breaks across the sky outside. Birds twitter from trees and power lines. Any snow flurries from last night begin melting into sludge on the ground.
And we’re still stuck in the lobby of the Pulsboro PD. I’m seated in a hard-backed plastic chair next to Sydney. The two of us have nodded off, shoulder to shoulder, our heads resting against each other.
Mason’s paid the bail, but the officer that was helping him—Ken’s partner, Coates—was dragging his feet on releasing Blake. He claimed there was a mountain of paperwork that needed to be completed.
I had arrived alert and on edge, fraught with nerves at the prospect of an encounter with Ken. He was nowhere in sight. As far as we can tell, he’s not around at all. Which only prompts more questions, like what could Blake have done to get arrested if Ken wasn’t involved?
I jerk awake, sensing someone’s presence. Mason’s walked over from where he’s been dealing with Coates at the front desk. At my side, Sydney does the same, rubbing her eyes.
“They’ll be releasing him,” he says, his hands deep in the pockets of his bomber jacket. “Should be another twenty, thirty minutes.”
“Did they say what the charges were?” Sydney asks.
“Where to start? There’s a whole list of ’em. Assaulting a police officer. Resisting arrest. Driving without a license and registration. Driving under the influence.” Mason meets my gaze at the last one, exchanging a concerned look with me.
I sigh, my head throbbing. “Excuse me. I need to use the restroom.”
