Page 2 of Muddy Messy Love

The officer shines his torch around the inside of the car, clocking every detail and illuminating us one by one. I squint against the sting of light while he holds aim longer than necessary, seeming to find fun in my discomfort.

Arsehole.

Blinking away the spots in my vision, I take a deep breath, still hoping this is merely a routine licence check. However, part of me knows the timing is too perfect. Especially when he spies the laptop at my feet.

Double fuck.

His jaw ticks, and he steps back, throwing a sharp nod to his partner. “All of you, exit the vehicle with your hands in the air.” His tone is short, brokering no room for argument. He is pure authority, well executed in steel-cap boots and standard-issue midnight blue.

I fumble with the door handle, then trip straight over the kerb. Gravel bites my knees through the rips in my cuffed jeans, and my palms sting, but I scramble to my feet and raise my hands, praying Slade didn’t see and that no bullets fly.

“Are you okay?” Jen asks ventriloquist-style. The chilly breeze rustles her baby-doll dress as she stands trembling on a grassy patch one metre away. Liam stands next to her, mimicking the trees with his lanky arms as his glasses reflect the disco of lights.

“I’m fine,” I whisper, but it’s a total lie. There is nothing fine about this.

Taking his sweet time, Slade climbs out of the driver’s seat with no visible alarm in his gait. I catch his eye, and he winks at me, his pearly whites glistening in the night.

God, that smile.

“Keep your hands in the air,” one officer barks, manhandling Slade as we’re placed in a line and patted down. More lights flash, and tyres screech. A paddy wagon jerks to an angled halt in front of Liam’s car, blocking it in.

Liam lets out a strangled groan. “Dude, could you park any closer?”

The once quiet suburban street soaks up the impressive light show. Curtains shift in windows, and curious eyes peer out, staring as two more cops exit the paddy wagon and amble towards us with a superior air.

The obvious top dog halts in front of Slade to eye him up and down. “Mr. Pearson, fancy seeing you here.”

My jaw drops.He knows Slade by name?

“Sergeant Nile,” Slade says, “lovely night for a drive, don’t ya think?”

The sergeant’s eyes glimmer with fleeting amusement. “Indeed.” He clasps his hands behind his back and strolls past Liam, then stops at me and Jen, examining us over the generous hook of his nose. “Right. You two girls, come with me.”

With a jerk of his chin, he stalks off down the leafy street, and reluctantly we follow with his partner hot on our tails. My chest clamps tighter with each step, so I rub my fist against the ache. Reality smothers me like a weighted blanket, leaving only panic room to breathe.Stay fucking cool.Slade’s words of warning whisper in my ear, and I repeat them like a mantra over and over. The last thing I want now is a full-blown panic attack. I’d look ridiculous.

We come to a stop around the corner where Sergeant Nile points to Jen. “Name and age?”

“Jennifer,” she says, fumbling a curl behind her ear. “I’m eighteen.”

“Surname, Jennifer?”

Jen’s head drops, and her cheeks bloom pink. “L…Lawrence, sir.”

The sergeant’s eyes flare with irritation, while his partner lowers her chin, fighting a smile. “As amusing as you think you are, Jennifer Lawrence, do you know I can arrest you for failing to provide your real name?”

Jen sways on her feet, and her heart-shaped face pales. Gone is her usual fiery spunk. Her wit died back at Mia’s. I clear my throat of nerves and attempt to fill her boots. “It’s her real name, sir. Just a coincidence.”

His attention snaps to me, and I fight not to cower under his glare. “And you are?”

“Avery Masters.” I hold his stare with wilting defiance. I remember the police being a lot less intimidating—nice even. What the hell happened?

Burglary happened, Avery. Burglary.

“And your age?”

“Seventeen,” I reply.

He points a blunt finger in my face. “In that case, you’re the one who’ll tell me what happened.”

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