Page 83 of Ink's Devil

“I’ll go find her,” offers Mel. “If they let me search.”

“Look, my wife’s pregnant. Let her up,” Pyro pleads. “Let her go find the fuckin’ cat.”

The pleading doesn’t work, of course, and our general mood worsens.

Two fucking hours. Two hours they take to complete the search. I don’t even care about the mess they’re making, and I doubt I’m the only one to worry about finding Bitch dead at the end of it.

The dog, fully recovered from the surprise smack around his nose, still has his tail wagging happily as his handler tosses a ball in the air for him as a reward. I care fuck all about that dog, it’s the cat I’m surprisingly worried about. Had anyone asked me earlier on today, I’d have said I couldn’t give a fuck if she was living or dead. Turns out, I haven’t yet run out of fucks.

It’s obvious they haven’t found anything just by observing how they’re acting. But we told them from the start, Devils don’t touch drugs. Surely that must help Ink’s case? They’ve left such a mess everywhere, I hate to think what Ink’s room looks like, that they’ll have turned it inside out. Well, that’s what brothers are for. We’ll make sure it’s sorted before he comes home.

One by one our handcuffs are removed but we’re told to stay down until they make their exit. In case we suddenly jump up and rush them, I suppose. Then, at last, they’re gone. Our weapons, all having been checked they’re legally owned, left in a box by the door.

“Bitch!” Mel screams. Pyro holds her back, presumably not wanting her to get upset any more than she already is by finding a cat’s dead body.

“I’ll go,” says Vi, then glares at Demon. “She’ll hate men even more now.”

But I’m the one in the lead with Judge right behind me and Demon and Vi hot on my heels.

I’m expecting to find a cold dead fur-covered body. The trail leads into a closet. I thrust the door open wide and find someone’s pushing a flashlight at me. I turn to see Judge, his features fixed, his brow furrowed. I nod, then flick the switch and the beam provides enough illumination for me to see Bitch paused, tongue half out, a paw held up which she’d clearly been in the process of calmly washing. I get a cat’s narrowed-eyed glare as if wondering why she’s being interrupted.

Vi pushes me out of the way and steps up close, picking her up in her arms. Well, fuck me. The top half of one of her ears has been shot clean off, but otherwise she looks unharmed. It’s even stopped bleeding.

Incredulously, I shake my head. “That cop must have been a lousy shot. Reckon she’s just lost another of her nine lives.”

As Vi strokes her, examining whether she has any other injuries, she glances at me. “Doubt it was her first. And I think we need to take her to the vet to get her checked out, she might need a shot.”

While that sounds a good idea, as Bitch hisses loudly when Vi moves her a little too close to me, I reckon she’ll need to make sure it’s a female vet.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Beth

“Ishould go to the police.” I pause my pacing and turn to look at my mom who’s violently moving her head from side to side.

“And get arrested for something that wasn’t your fault?” Mom spits back. “Anything you could say might just incriminate Ink further. And your brother as well.”

“What else can I do? My fingerprints are on the rucksack…”

“They should have destroyed them after the burglary. They might not have them at all.”

I roll my eyes. “I don’t think that’s how it works, Mom. Isn’t it better to get in first with my side of the story? Or one I concoct that is.”

“What would that be?” she interrupts. “That you found a package of drugs and just wondered around Pueblo trying to find the owner? You know what cops are like. They’ll try to trip you up, even if you’re telling the truth. Trying to keep to a complicated story will be too difficult. The truth would be hard enough for them to swallow.”

She’s right. I know it. But it goes against the grain to think that Ink is sitting in jail for something he didn’t do. If they’re going to be coming after me anyway, there must be something I can do to swing it to free him.

“Mom, I’ve told you. I had no choice—”

“I doubt that’s the way they’d see it. We’ve been through this, Bethany. As soon as you feared Connor was in trouble, you should have contacted them. Not tried to sort it out for yourself. You should have at least told me what was going on.”

“I couldn’t Mom. It would have upset you.”

Her expression speaks volumes, telegraphingas if I’m not now.Then her shoulders rise, then fall and a quick sad grin covers her face. “I understand why you thought what you did was right. Bethany. I love both my children. I know Connor and I don’t see eye-to-eye at the moment, but I’m hoping in time he’ll become the man I know he can be if he just removes himself from the influence of his father.” Suddenly she stills. “That rucksack. When was the last time you used it, Beth?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. Years?” I hate throwing stuff out, always thinking it might come in handy one day. In fact, I’d forgotten all about it until I needed something to carry the packages in. Mom’s tapping her fingers to her mouth. “What are you thinking?”

“What if it got ‘stolen’ during the robbery?”

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