Defy (Brothers of Ink and Steel Book 3) by Allie Juliette Mousseau

Author:Allie Juliette Mousseau [Mousseau, Allie Juliette]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Allie Juliette Mousseau
Published: 2015-11-29T23:00:00+00:00

“Chief wants a word,” Ballsy-boy, who searched me earlier, exclaims as he slides open the door to the holding cell that I’ve been incarcerated in for the last hour. He leads me down the hall to the police chief’s office.

The Mansfield chief of police greets me from behind his polished, ostentatious desk as Ballsy-boy wheels in my equipment bag on a delivery caddy.

“You’re free to go, Mr. Axton,” the chief tells me.

After taking a quick inventory of my belongings and detecting only the new burner phone I hadn’t used gone, I say, “I’m not going anywhere without Miss. Farrington.”

“She’s no longer your concern,” he informs me coolly. “We’ll take care of her from here.”

Ballsy-boy and Officer Douchebag, the guy who unofficially interrogated me, are standing behind their chief with smug grins plastered to their ugly faces.

“I need to verify the safety of—”

“You’re in no position to be making demands,” he interrupts me while he leans slowly back in his leather chair and crosses his arms over his chest.

“You’re tampering with a federal witness and obstructing justice—” I begin.

“We’ve already made arrangements with federal agents. Sergeants Oliver and Guthrie are highly qualified and will officially escort Ms. Farrington the rest of the way to Shreveport safely. So you see, your services are no longer required,” the chief of police—Warner is the name on his desk plate—states.

“These two aren’t competent enough to get laid in their own wet dreams,” I say.

Douchebag lunges a little at me, while Ballsy-boy puts an arm out to stop him.

“That’s enough from you, Mr. Axton,” their chief tells me in a threatening tone.

I press the knuckles of my clenched fists onto his desk and lean closer, putting myself right into his personal space and giving him an intimidating glare. “I haven’t even started.”

He stands to make his position known. “We don’t think very much of bounty hunters in this part of the country. All we see is another thug criminal with a gun.”

“Excellent.” I smile. I love threats. “But I’m not about to pin Farrington’s life on your word. I require proof.”

“I owe you nothing, Mr. Axton. Not even a phone call,” he drawls. “And I don’t ever want to see your face here again in DeSoto Parish.”

“I’m real glad you said that.” I nod. “Now I know how to proceed.”

“Officer Guthrie, escort our guest out.”

Douchebag Guthrie walks me to the front of the station and out the door.

“By the way, Axton”—he drops the new burner phone I had in my equipment bag to the concrete and comes down hard on it with the heel of his shoe—“forgot your phone.”

“I have a feeling we’ll meet again someday.” In fact, I’m sure of it.

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