Collateral 2 (Debt Collection) by Roxie Rivera

Author:Roxie Rivera [Rivera, Roxie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, romance, Mob Romance
Publisher: Night Works Books
Published: 2020-03-15T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

“Get dressed.”

I shot a panicked look at Ben but did as he had ordered. His voice had morphed from tender and loving to deep and harsh. Irritation and anger vibrated off him in waves. He wasn’t mad at me, of course. He was furious that the police were at my front door and probably thought it was his fault somehow.

“We’ll be down in a minute,” Ben snapped at my phone after activating the microphone one the security app.

“Sir, Houston PD. We have a warrant.”

“I’m sure you do, but it’s after fucking midnight. We have to get dressed.”

Ben tossed the phone onto the bed and stormed over to his hastily discarded pajama bottoms and shirt. I ran into the closet, stopping just long enough to grab a towel to tidy up before pulling on the first pair of shorts and tee I found.

When I came back into the bedroom, Ben stood near the windows overlooking the front lawn. He had pulled back the blackout panels to reveal the blue and red flashing lights. Even from this distance, I could see his jaw clenching. He was angrier than I had ever seen him.

“Ben,” I reached for his hand, “promise me you aren’t going to punch a cop.”

His scowl softened. “I promise.”

“I mean it.”

“I’m not doing anything that will take me away from you.” He kissed me hard. “When we get downstairs, stand away from me. Don’t put your hands in your pockets or behind you. Keep them in view. No quick movements.”

“Ben, they’re not going to shoot us!”

“You don’t know that,” he insisted, his voice thick with worry. “The police don’t show up with flashing lights after midnight in this part of town unless they’re trying to send a message. Do you understand how serious this is?”

I swallowed hard. Was he right? Was this some form of intimidation? I didn’t like to admit that I had certain privileges that others in the city would never experience. I had never had problems with the police. I had never been profiled or strong armed or brutalized.

“You’re right,” I agreed. “Normally, the police would reach out to me, have my lawyer get involved and arrange a time and place for questioning or a search.”

“Yes,” he said, seemingly glad that I had accepted his view of the situation. “Get your phone. Call your lawyer. Now.”

“Right.” I grabbed my phone from the bed and made the call. Holding onto Ben’s hand, I let him lead me out of the bedroom and downstairs. He turned on lights as we moved, letting the police follow our movements through the windows. We had made it almost to the front door when my family’s longtime attorney answered.

“Hello?” A gruff and sleepy voice answered.

“Dick? It’s Aston McNeil. I’m so sorry to be calling so late, but there are a bunch of police at my front door with a warrant. I don’t know what to do.”

“Jesus Christ,” Dick grumbled in that Texas twang of his. “Hang on, Aston.” There was shuffling in the background, and he seemed to be addressing his wife, Charlene.

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