Page 79 of Demanding Mob Boss

"You're going to tell us what we want to know or my hand on your tit is going to be the least of your worries," Detective Grieves threatens.

He molests me, pinching my nipple so hard that tears spring into my eyes. I just want it to stop, but I don't promise to cooperate. I'm not telling them anything about Cian. Not that I know a lot, but if I say anything these two crooked cops could twist it.

When I realize that the female detective isn’t going to do anything to stop her partner, I seal my lips tight and retreat inside my mind with my rhyme. I say it over and over again, even though I can't act out the ritual to calm myself.

I'm still trying to yank his hands away from me, so I can't click my fingernails together. I'm breathing too erratically to do the deep inhales and exhales I need to. I can't even look down at my feet because that awful man's face is blocking everything as he leans over me.

"We're almost there," Detective Samuels says from the front.

With a final squeeze I'm sure is going to leave bruises, Grieves pulls his hand away and sits back on his side of the seat. "We'll pick this up when we get you into an interview room."

Aren't interviews recorded? Don't they have windows, or two-way mirrors, or something? He can't molest me in the police station.

"We've got our own special set up," he says like he knows what I’m thinking. "It helps people like you remember that you want to help the cops, not piss us off."

Tommy said it would be okay. But it's not. What are these two going to do with me? Now that he's not touching me, I'm clicking my nails on both hands. I still can't deep breathe. It's just not possible.

I'm trying hard not to puke. No wonder that sour smell is in the air in here. They probably have people throwing up in their car all the time from having his hands on them.

Chapter 26

ANNA

They hustle me into the station when we get there, both of them holding one of my arms. Ants are crawling under my skin and I have to grit my teeth to stop from screaming.

Maybe I should scream? Would anyone in here help me? Are they all corrupt?

I frantically count the steps from the door in my mind. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Se—

"Hey, Grieves. Samuels. Who do you have there?" The tall Black man who steps in front of us, halting our progress, has a warm, melodious voice, but his dark eyes are narrowed on the tableau we make.

Samuels says dismissively, "A person of interest in a case."

"I don't want to be here," I tell the other man. "They forced me."

"That happens in a police station," he says, but he frowns at Grieves.

"He hurt me," I add, jerking my head toward Grieves, trying to pull my arms away from the two detectives.

"She's full of shit." Grieves' grip on my arm tightens. "I didn't do anything, did I, Samuels?"

"Nah. She doesn't want to get in trouble with her boyfriend for talking to the cops, but she came of her own free will." Samuel glares down at me.

Do they think I'm going to agree with them? They're scary, but I’m terrified of what might happen if they get me into a room alone.

"That's a lie," I say, hoping the other detective will listen. "Let me go." I keep trying to yank my arms away from them, but it's no use.

The other man steps forward, making it impossible for Grieves and Samuels to get me past without releasing me. "I've got some time; I think I'll sit in on this interview. Make sure she's here as voluntarily as you say she is."

Will he stop Grieves from touching me again? Samuels didn't.

"No way. This is our case," Grieves says hotly.

"Detective Grieves. Samuels," a deep voice booms from behind us. All three of the officers tense up. "Let that woman go."

Grieves turns his head. "Captain, she's a person of interest in an important case we're working."

"Did I fucking stutter?" the captain asks.

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