Page 66 of Blood on the Ice

I blink, my lips curling at his admirable yet naïve, take on the situation. “You may be surprised to find I agree, Officer. However, I also know my friend is innocent and the current case against him is so thin you can see through it. Justice should also not be lazy and full of false confidence.”

That shuts him up for a moment, and I wonder if this kid realizes some of his superiors aren’t as dedicated to the same ideals as he is. If the shitty detective is unpopular for sloughing off his work onto others or taking shortcuts, this will be easier to finagle. I look around, studying the people we pass carefully to see if they’re malleable or steadfast in their belief in what’s happening in this place.

Detective Moron seems to have a fair number of people who expect him to get his ass handed to him—and they’re looking forward to it.

“I can work with that,” I murmur to myself as we approach a long, wood paneled hallway that leads to a much nicer section of the building. This is obviously where the muckitty-mucks keep their offices, far above the rank and file, who sit in dreary cube farms with stale air. The change says a lot about the people I’m likely to meet in this big room behind the double doors with shining brass handles at the end of the hall.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness. Did you say something?” the kid asks as we stop in front of the ornate entrance.

“No, Officer. Don’t worry; you didn’t miss a thing.”

But that detective better hope he didn’t, either, because I feel it won’t be hard to get the brass behind this door to sell him right up the river.

under pressure

The detective has Lucas and Jackson in an interrogation room that’s reminiscent of one from a TV procedural. He’s definitely feeding off this situation; it’s probably the most important case he’s had in his entire career. His glee has created a far more adversarial atmosphere than is needed, especially because he hasn’t processed my mate yet. In fact, hetook them straight to the box without passing ‘Go,’ and I wonder if the arrest was all for show.

If so, Jackson Thorne is going to eat him alive and spit out the gristle.

I don’t know the guy that well other than reputation, but his behavior so far has only increased my confidence in his abilities. He’s a smug, self-assured motherfucker because he has the skills and influence to back it up. Lucas is in good hands despite his obvious discomfort at being prodded by the pastrami-eating fool in there.

“You were found with the victim. What other conclusions are we supposed to draw, Wolfenberg?”

The blond hockey player shrugs, his expression guileless as he shoots back, “I don’t know. Isn’t investigationyourjob? I can’t do it for you, man.”

Jackson holds up a fist, bumping it with Lucas before turning back to the lumpy detective. “My client isn’t here to help you find your ass with both hands and a map, Detective. He’s here to answer questions, though the method of retrieving him from his classes is a matter for the courts now. Since you haven’t filed the arrest paperwork you used to force him to come here without benefit of counsel, my team is suing for false imprisonment, Miranda violations, and oh-so-many other charges once I have time to find every single piece of case law I can use to tear this precinct and you to tiny little pieces.”

“Huh. Good luck with that in this town,” Kowalski retorts as he leans over a chair to sneer at the handsome lawyer. “You’ll find that kind of shit doesn’t fly here.”

I watch as Thorne’s smile widens and the flash of teeth reminds me why he’s called The Shark, despite it not being his shifter form. “I appreciate the heads up. We’ll apply for a change of venue as well. I have theperfectone in mind. Morgana, dear, if you’re out there, can you note I need to call my college buddy?”

Grinning a little, I tuck that note in my head for later. I’m glad Jackson realized I wouldn’t be able to stay away from the observation area while Lucas was being grilled. Ranier nods at my questioning look and I raise my hand to knock on the glass once in response. Lucas perks up a little, sitting up straighter in his seat now that he realizes I’m here. We get a glare from a frumpy-looking woman that I assume is their ADA, but since she hasn’t spoken to Rainier or me once, that’s only a guess.

Channing pulls out her phone, her fingers moving over it furiously. “I’ll add it to his documents, Morgana.”

“Thank you, lovely,” Eli says from his spot in the corner. He’s hunkered down on the floor with a full complement of tech surrounding him. I’m amazed he even heard us with the weird headphones he’s got in his ears, but now’s not the time to question the hacker’s quirks. “Jackie will be grateful. He would have asked one of us if he hadn’t specifically wanted the handsome bear to know our Dean is here watching.”

He would have, huh?

I shoot a look at my assistant and she flushes a bit, pushing her glasses up as she clears her throat. “I assume Jackson isn’t overextending you with extra work, then, Channing?”

“Oh, no! No, his team is very conscientious. I’m simply helping facilitate some administrative things so Eli can focus on his…”she looks at the mousy woman and then continues, “… his much needed research duties for the case.”

Rainier snorts and it occurs to me that somewhere between the locked door and this room, Foley and Kendrick have disappeared. I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing, but it’s certainly worth noting. Jackson’s team gives me the sense that they operate right in the gray areas of the law—something that would shock me, except lawyers are the most crooked motherfuckers on the planet and defense attorneys are the worst and Jackson sits on a throne of bodies in his field. It’s unlikely he got there by being a rule follower.

“Your friend can do all the ‘research’ he likes. Lucas Wolfenberg is going to be arrested for killing his rival hockey player; his money can’t get him out of this.”

Turning to face the woman, I step closer, towering over her as I meet her gaze. “You have nothing but circumstantial evidence. Your arrest warrant was obtained under false pretenses and you’re acting in bad faith. I don’t know which of your higher-ups approved this mess, but Jackson is going to have every single one of your jobs. You don’t scare us.”

“I wouldn’t think I’d scare a convicted killer, Dean LeCiel.” She gives me a dark smirk and I see beneath the veneer of her frumpy facade. “You killed Magnus and essentially got away scot-free. I don’t know why you’re so adamant about this student, but I will enjoy humiliating you in the press and the courtroom for your past sins.”

Just fucking peachy—another Magnus acolyte. Was he fucking this entire goddamn city?

I probably know the answer to that and if I hadn’t already severed his goddamn head, I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Everywhere I go, I fucking run into more of his conquests and they are determined to make my life a living hell, as if it’s my fault he was a crooked, cheating, malignant narcissist who cuckolded me with every damn person in the city. Women like this infuriate me—always have—and my punishment for refusing to put up with his shit is being attacked constantly.

The door to the observation room opens before I can respond, and I’m surprised to see Prince Liam enter with ajitterylooking woman in an expensive suit. His eyes are full of mischief as they join us, and I wonder what he’s been doing while we watched Kowalski grill Lucas. I don’t see Kaspar, which I can’t decide if I’m relieved by, so this was a solo mission.

One that required a crown? Holy shit.

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