Page 29 of Red Queen (Red Thorns Crew 3)

“Come on. Get out,” the officer said.

They led me inside and everything went blurry. I registered nothing as they processed me. Took my fingerprints. Made me sign all sorts of shit and officially placed me in the system. The bars of the cell rumbled as they opened. But the sound didn’t pull me from my trance. He shoved me into a holding cell with a few other men who looked just as bad as I did, and I moved into a corner, working my wrists to try and get the cuff stiffness out of them.

For the first time since being arrested, I actually took in my surroundings. There were five other men in this holding cell with me. And all of them smelled like various stages of rotting cheese. One man, sitting in the opposite corner from me, was clearly delusional. Or high. But definitely homeless. The man needed a shower. Possibly some food. He sure as hell didn’t need to be sitting in a damn cell because he wanted a short, illegal release from the reality of his existence.

I hate the law.

“Oh, man. That stri-joint was great.”

I nodded. “Glad to hear it.”

The drunk man grinned at me. “Had thi-cutie patootie on my knee right here.”

He slapped his thigh hard before he winced in pain.

“Shit, that hurt,” he murmured.

I snickered. “Maybe don’t do it again, then.”

He nodded. “What was I talk--who--ah, fuck.”

I watched the man as he realized where he was. In jail. In a holding cell. And not in that funky strip club of his. I wondered how many times he had ‘realized’ he was in jail, essentially.

I wonder if it even matters to him.

I looked at the man sitting on the bench in the middle of the cell and I crooked an eyebrow. He hung his head, almost in shame, as he sat there in his business suit. A nice one, too. Tailored specifically to him. He hiccuped before he started murmuring to himself. And between his slurred words, I caught ‘wife,’ ‘kill,’ and ‘doo-ee.’

And something in my gut told me this wasn’t this man’s first DUI.

I leaned my head back against the wall and closed my eyes. This mess was only the beginning. That much I knew. And while I hoped my guys wouldn't try anything stupid to get me out of here, part of me wondered what they might try. Curiosity played through several scenarios that might go into busting me out of this place. But the rational part of me willed them all to stay the fuck away.

Because, despite the fact that I wasn’t really sure my father had died, I knew there were still cogs turning in this bullshit nightmare.

If my father’s alive, nobody’s safe.

We had protocol for this kind of thing in the crew. If the president was to get killed or put away, then tradition designated that either the vice president or a former president would take over. And since I’d never designated a V.P. to stand at my side, that meant responsibility of the crew fell to John. Who would enlist Rupert to help him with things. What I needed to do, instead of dreaming about my escape, was trust that my brother had already taken steps to protect the Red Thorns and their families.

To protect Dani.

“What you in for? Huh?”

The homeless man’s voice caught my ear and everyone turned to face me.

“Look pretty beat up for a night out on the town,” he snickered.

I nodded. “Because I didn’t have a night out on the town.”

The man grinned. “You get into it with your girl?”

The drunkard slurred his words. “Shit, I’ve seen women do worse in my life.”

The man in the middle sniffled. “My wife’s gonna kill the hell out of me.”

I nodded. “Probably.”

I turned my back to the men and closed my eyes. I resisted the urge to sit down, lest they somehow think I was weak. The last thing I needed was for a bunch of men in this holding cell to perceive me as weak. Because I knew what happened in these places. People were cooped up for far too long and tensions ran high. People wanted out. Fights broke out and people got hurt.

The last thing I needed was another damn fight to bust through.

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