Chapter Nine
Al
I pressed my aching cheek against the cold bars and let out a slow breath through my nose.
The arrest didn’t need to be that dramatic.
I hadn’t fought the cops, I hadn’t run, hadn’t swung, hadn’t done anything that justified being slammed face-first into asphalt like I was some kind of cartel hitman.
But hey, I didn’t get shot, which is a win for a Latino man in Texas.
The cops here often like to take on extra roles as judges and executioners, even though they’re underqualified to de-escalate schoolyard brawls.
I was surprised at how quickly I got to see a judge, but it was just to lay charges and set bail. Took all of five minutes. Made sense, really. It was Friday; they wanted to get as many out of the holding cells as they could before the weekend sinners filled them back up.
The judge wasn’t exactly lenient, though. My joyride with Fox was definitely a felony—no way around that one. Evading the cops alone would’ve done it. Add in the speed, the chase… Yeah, definitely a felony.
At least no one but me got hurt. That would have made the situation a Hell of a lot worse.
My jaw throbbed where it had met the road, a dull pulse that matched the ache spreading through the rest of my body. My ribs were sore, my shoulders tight, my wrists still burning from where the cuffs had bitten in too deeply.
I shifted slightly on the bench, the metal cold even through my clothes, and watched as one of the officers waddled past the cell.
“Don’t I get a phone call?” I asked.
He paused, blinking as I’d just reminded him of something mildly inconvenient. “Oh. Yeah. I guess.”
I rolled my eyes—professionalism at its finest.
A few minutes later, I was being hauled back to my feet, cuffs slapped on again like they were afraid I’d suddenly make a break for it, and I was walked down the hall toward a payphone. An honest-to-God payphone.
Gods, I hadn’t seen one of those in years. For a second, I stared at it, half-expecting it to vanish like a hallucination. But no, it was real, with its scratched plastic, greasy receiver, old gum stains all over, and the faint smell of decaying metal.
Ancient technology, and no sign of a phonebook anywhere.
Thankfully, there was one number I still knew by heart.
I dialed Lai, this time with little hope. Lai wasn’t the type to answer unknown numbers, not unless he was expecting trouble.
Okay, actually, that might work in my favor. To my relief, he picked up, his laughter clear over the pre-recorded messages from the county jail that played out. I looked up at the clock as he snickered; almost midnight, again? The cops had taken their sweet time processing me.
“Hey,” I said, bracing for the usual answer.
“Am I rescuing you or–?”
“Bailing me out,” I sighed, holding the phone between my shoulder and my ear; it wasn’t easy with handcuffs on.
A beat, and then a soft, delighted exhale.
“You know that option is usually a joke. Do you want me to call your wife—?”
“Don’t you dare,” I snapped, straightening despite the cuffs. “Just bring money. I don’t have time to sit here and wait.”
Silence again. Measured this time.
“You owe me,” Lai said finally.
“Yeah,” I muttered. “I do.”
“Big time.”
“I know.”
The line went dead before I could say anything else, the automated system kicking me off like it had better things to do.
The warden shoved me back towards the holding cells, and the bars slid closed again.
I rubbed my wrists, taking a seat on the bare metal bench as I reflected on how I, the respected head of the academy just that afternoon, had ended up as a common criminal before nightfall.
You know what? It was worth it. Every second of that drive. Every risk. Every bad decision is stacked on top of the last one. Worth it.
I dozed off with that thought, but sleep came in fragments.
Ten minutes here. Maybe fifteen there, if I got lucky.
Never enough to sink into properly. Every time I started to drift, something dragged me back: an alarm somewhere down the hall, someone coughing hard enough to sound like they were trying to expel a lung, the deliberate banging of a guard who clearly hated silence.
I lost track of time somewhere in the middle of the stretch between midnight and morning.
Lai could have been here in an hour. He had the money. He had the connections. He’d slept with half of the Senate and blackmailed the other half. One phone call from him and I would already be pardoned and my record expunged.
That’s what a friend would do, but Lai wasn’t just my friend. He was also my ex, and if there was one thing he loved more than being right, it was making sure I knew exactly how right he was.
So, yeah. He was going to take his time.
Resigned to that thought, I settled back down to try to sleep again. The next time I opened my eyes, the light had changed. Dim gray bleeding into something brighter. Morning. The cell door clanged open, the sound enough to drag me fully awake as a hand grabbed my shoulder and shook.
“Get up. Bail’s paid.”
I blinked at the red-faced officer, his chin wobbling with every word, his dark, beady eyes glaring at me over his upturned nose.
“Get the fuck up.”
I pushed myself upright, every bruise making itself known all at once. My muscles protested, and my ribs pulled tight, one spot in particular flaring sharp enough to make me pause. Lower rib. Right side. Not great, but not urgent.
I ignored it.
Now wasn’t the time.
The cop walked me out, paperwork shoved into my hands as he uncuffed me with far less enthusiasm than he’d shown putting them on.
Then I saw Lai, leaning against the counter, relaxed, like he hadn’t just bailed someone out of jail at sunrise.
Immaculate, as always, his black shirt pressed clean, his hair straightened, falling perfectly into place, just enough makeup on his face to sharpen his features without making it obvious.
He looked like he’d just stepped out of a magazine.
Which meant, yeah, he’d absolutely taken his time.
Still, relief hit harder than I expected. “Hey,” I said, voice rough.
He didn’t answer. He just looked at me. Judging.
I stepped past him toward the reception desk, leaning slightly forward as I caught the attention of the woman behind it. She did her best to ignore me, rolling her chewing gum over her tongue.
“Hey, about my car.”
“What about it?” She asked without looking up.
“Where do I pick it up?” I asked.
She blinked at me, “Oh. It was a civil seizure.”
Something in my chest tightened.
“Automatic with a felony. It’s at the impound lot. Either goes to auction or gets scrapped.”
For a second. I didn’t understand the words. They didn’t land. Didn’t connect. I blinked at her. “What do you mean?”
She shrugged. “It’s the law. If you’re acquitted, you can sue to get it back.” She kept talking, explaining timelines, paperwork, procedures.
I didn’t hear any of it.
Auctioned or scrapped. I knew which one Fox would be.
Lai grabbed me by the arm, pulling me away. I didn’t resist, still in shock.
“Lai–”
“I know.”
“Lai…”
“Get in the car.”
I let him steer me out. Didn’t fight it. Didn’t argue. The world felt distant, a TV show rather than my life. I slid into the passenger seat automatically, staring straight ahead.
Lai reached over and slapped me. I sucked in a breath, more from the surprise than the pain. It worked; it grounded me, stinging over the fresh bruises. It hurt, but I was thankful. Pain was better than that hollow, drifting nothing. “Fox…”
“We’ll get him out. He is going to be fine until your court date.” Lai handed me the paperwork with the details.
Four days.
I had four days until my next hearing, four days to get Fox out of the impounding lot. I looked over at Lai, and he met my eyes, giving me a slight nod.
“You’re lucky. Didn’t hit anyone, so it’s not at an evidence lot, just a private yard. We gotta find out which one and figure out how to get him out of there.”
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Lai grinned, turning on the engine of Aris’s Lexus, his borrowed ride purring with ease. “A prison break? Al, I thought you’d never ask.”