Page 138 of Wild Card
She nodded. “I’m here if you need backup.”
I jogged toward the parking lot.
“Hey, Dallas!”
He turned, eyes widening when he saw me. “What do you want?”
I grinned and pulled the cuffs off my belt. “You’re under arrest for hit-and-run.”
He scoffed. “You’re trying again? Really? Didn’t my dad make it clear that you were wasting your time harassing me?”
I strolled up to him and grabbed his right arm, tugging it behind him. He didn’t even struggle. Too surprised, or maybe just too sure his daddy would set everything right.
“Didn’t your dad call you with the news?”
He scowled. “What news?”
I yanked him in the direction of my cruiser. “There’s a new sheriff in town.”
“There’s no way,” he said, fear coloring his voice. “My dad is going to fire your ass. When we get there, he’ll finally see that you’re out of your mind!”
He was digging in his heels, resisting as the truth set in. I manhandled him toward the car.
“We’ve got the evidence, Dallas. No more get-out-jail-free cards for you.”
Chloe opened the back door, and Dallas saw his dad in the back. In cuffs.
His face, red with outrage, paled so quickly I thought the asshole might pass out. He sagged in my grip. “Fuck me.”
“No need,” I said smugly. “You’re already good and fucked.”
The drive to the jail took only minutes, thankfully. The sheriff blustered about how I’d regret this come election time. But I knew better. This arrest would send a signal to the public. Hale would never be sheriff in this town again.
We took father and son in through the side entrance to the jail and started the booking process with the clerk there.
My cell phone rang.
“I got this,” Chloe said. “Go ahead and take your call.”
I nodded my thanks and left her to attend to the booking details. The Hale men would have to be fingerprinted, have mug shots taken, and be thoroughly searched before being processed into jail. Because they were being booked for something more serious than drunk or disorderly, they’d be relieved of their belongings and given jail uniforms to wear.
Unlike most of our arrests, they wouldn’t go into a holding cell for a night. If things went the way they should, the Hales would spend months in these cells.
I checked my phone, disappointed to see it wasn’t Axel returning my call but a sheriff’s department number. “Harvey here.”
“Sheriff, it’s Deputy Sing. I, uh, have some bad news for you.”
My gut tightened. “What is it?”
“I made an arrest over at Ball Breakers.” He paused, and my heart tumbled.
“Axel?” I guessed.
“Yeah. Sorry, boss, I didn’t know he was your friend.”
“Boyfriend,” I corrected.
“Oh, shit. That’s even worse.”
