Page 47 of Stolen By the Bratva King

My knees buckle and I fall ungracefully into the back of the seat. I slide across the leather. It smells like sweat and stale cigarettes and armpits.

A sudden and very urgent nausea makes my eyes water and sends bile crawling up my throat. I breathe in through my nose, swallowing it back down.

“Been having fun back here? Smells like it,” I grin with no amusement at the officer, slumping forward in an awkward position with my knees sprawled. I’m too tall to fit in the cramped quarters of this backseat.

The officer glowers at me and slams the door in my face.

His radio clicks on, static and voices coming through the speaker. He clicks it off and grips the steering wheel until his knuckles stretch white over his skin.

He switches on the siren, and it blares through my eardrums, causing a shrieking headache to pulse through my temples. I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath to calm my rolling stomach.

“Headed somewhere in a hurry?” I smirk, but my lips sizzle with tingling pain.

The officer’s eyes slide to mine through the rearview mirror. His are red too, from the pepper spray. His face reflects squares of light through the metal bars of the cage that separates us. Like I’m an untamed animal and he’s my keeper.

“You’ve got a mouth on you,” he grumbles, adjusting himself in the seat.

I do the same, and the leather makes a squeaking sound under my weight, sticking to my sweaty thighs.

At the station, they send me through the booking process. I continue my sarcastic rows with them and watch withsatisfaction as their jaws twitch and their eyes dart, avoiding making direct contact with me.

“You should give me a penthouse suite. Or better yet, can I fix myself up? I don’t think I’ll like how my picture looks since you guys’ blasted pepper spray all over me.” I croon as they shove my fingers into their print ink and direct me to the wall to capture my mugshot. “You know, since I’ve been here before and all, I might as well take advantage and ask for some perks.”

“Fresh out of penthouse suites and perks, I’m afraid,” an officer declares. He wasn’t one of the arresting officers who was at my condo. His uniform is crumpled, and his eyes are rimmed with exhaustion.

“No VIP treatment?” I click my tongue. “A shame. I can pay, too.”

“I’m sure all you thugs have plenty of dirty money,” he mutters.

“Don’t be jealous,” I quip.

“I’m not the one who’s going to be sleeping in a cell tonight,” he quips right back.

“At the end of your shift?” I ask. “Tired from getting all the bad guys all day? Worn out? Going home to take it out on your wife?”

He stops dead in his tracks and for a moment, I fear I’ve taken it too far. But instead, he keeps walking, escorting me down the hallway to the holding cells.

“Just shut your mouth,” he orders. “I know you’re smarter than you look.” He throws me into a cell as if it takes the rest of his depleted energy to do it.

He unclasps my handcuffs, and I rub the aching, raw skin, smirking at him. “You guys offer room service? I’ll take a cold beer and an oozy, cheesy slice of peperoni pizza. The greasier, the better.”

The officer rolls his eyes. “Save the requests for someone who cares.”

He exits the cell, and the door slams shut with a click of finality. I swallow hard and stumble backward, trying to stop the room from spinning.

I’m grateful for the miracle that I’m placed in a holding cell with no other people, but who knows how long I’ll stay that lucky.

I decide to take advantage and sprawl out on the metal cot on the wall in the corner, face down, my head splitting open.

“If this is rock bottom, I’m neck deep,” I mumble to myself.

I think about my father. He must be looking at me from the grave and shaking his head in disappointment. An intense wave of shame surges through me, boiling the blood in my veins.

I take a deep breath, convincing myself to calm down. Vlad will be contacting the lawyer, and I’ll be out of here by morning. I just have to hold on a little while longer.

It’s in my best interest to try to sleep it off, praying that I can burn off the alcohol quickly and won’t have a searing hangover, come morning.

The image of Oleg and his gang of thugs thrusts itself through the front of my brain. It feels like someone rubbed a Brillo pad underneath my skin. I can’t let him get away with this.

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