Page 124 of Arran's Obsession

This asshole, his puppet, knew it.

This was a power play. There was no way I was letting this motherfucker see it through. I leaned forward, putting every ounce of menace in my stare. “Let me make this clear. You’re going to release everyone else you took or I’ll pull a tooth for each of them. I’ll do it publicly, just like your little raid.”

His smile dropped. “I told you I would.”

“Now, Kenney.”

The chief constable worked his jaw then strode to the door. He disappeared for a moment then returned. “They’ll be home in an hour.”

“Safe travel, too, not in a fucking police car.”

He glared but tapped out the order on his phone.

Somewhat mollified, I sat back. Lifted my cuffed hands. “Going to remove these?”

Kenney snorted. “I will when I’m ready. I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

“Coward.” I sneered, enjoying him being on the spot. There was a balance in Deadwater, and it wasn’t made by law and order. Same as any other city, money and secrets paved the way for business activity, and I had those in spades.

“I’m just trying to do my job,” the chief constable bit out. “If you want me to leave your warehouse alone, you can’t be out in the city visibly causing problems. People fear gang warfare. Two people ordered dinner this evening and ended up with a fight on their doorstep, their footage looking a lot like you. They called the police and the local authority. I had the councillors in my ear making complaints. You know I have to uphold those. Or at least be seen to.”

I already knew the reason behind the raid—an act that would make the local gossip columns and appease the conservative element of the town. It was why I’d been displayed in full view in the back of the police van with my half-naked dancers around me. I’d had them all hide their faces, but the pictures had been taken.

Yet he had a point. The minor scuffle with the Four Milers had been unfortunate.

“It couldn’t be helped,” I said.

Kenney dropped into the opposite seat. Set a meaty hand on the folder of papers in front of him. “Do me a favour and take it out of town next time, or I’ll be forced to press charges.”

“They won’t stick. The mayor will see to that. You can drop it with the explanation—he already told me he’d be doing this.”

He recoiled, then his gaze searched mine, hunger within. “What have you got on the mayor?”

Wouldn’t he like to know? I spread my cuffed hands as wide as they could go but didn’t answer.

“What else have you got for me?” I asked.

He didn’t have that folder for no reason. Typically, Kenney would drop off his cases at the home of a neutral party then tip me off that I had work to do. Looked like tonight he was killing two birds with one stone.

“Names for you to have fun with.” He opened the folder, revealing a prison docket. Rapid-fire, Kenney gave me the details of three men on probation. All sex offenders in one way or another, and all considered a danger to the public, even if the prison service had no choice but to release them.

We all knew the patterns, the paths that people like Bradley followed on their release from jail. We’d be on these men like white on rice.

Shade would be delighted.

Then the chief constable turned the page. I squinted at the thicker pack underneath, the titlePost-mortemacross the top.

Kenney tapped the first sheet. “The official report into the death of Miss Chelsea Gains. Cherry, as she was known. You wanted to see this, and this is the version that will go out to the public.”

Suggesting there was another that wouldn’t be widely shared.

“What’s being hidden?”

“The hooker was pregnant. Three months.”

I lifted my gaze. “DNA results?”

He gave a single shake of his head, his lips flattened. “Won’t be done. She’ll be cremated as soon as possible.”

---