Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
The Rangers
With no car outside, Krick has waited to ambush us.
Something is wrong, and like a domino effect, each hair on my arm rises to attention.
I feel like a young fawn who has stepped into a clearing, frozen before the barrel of a gun.
Krick’s skinny legs hang from a bar-stool, while Donnie stands with arms crossed and a shit-eating grin.
But there’s a doubt that doesn’t wholly turn my blood cold.
With no report and no witnesses to the fight, there’s no reason Donnie would have reviewed the footage, especially this quickly.
So, what the hell are they doing here?! I can fake it with the best of them, but Joey has to nudge me from the doorway, acting normal as he places the lunch bags on the counter.
“Hey, guys. What’s going on?”
Krick’s glare follows Joey—and only Joey—as we edge behind the counter, with his finger raising towards Joey’s face.
Joey plays ignorant, pointing at himself. “My hair… There’s something in my hair?”
Krick’s voice has a playfully questioning tone, but a cruelty lines his words, like a cat talking to a mouse. “No, Joey. What … have … you … been … up to?”
He knows. Somehow, he knows about the fight. Joey can either lie and implicate himself if Krick knows the truth, or he can admit it and incriminate himself if Krick doesn’t know the truth.
“Oh, this?” Joey says coolly. “I lost a fight with a door. It looks worse than it is.”
I squat beside the fridge, loading the food while Joey passes me the wrapped sandwiches.
Maybe it’s our escape? Runaway couples can be prosecuted—the men charged with assault and kidnapping, while the women are sent to the worst kind of R Krick is the crook.
There’s no way out. I need to be smart. I need to strategise.
“I love you, Joey. This isn’t over,” I whisper into his chest, loosening my grip and pulling back.
Krick points to Joey. “Officers, this is the drug dealer. I can provide you with the surveillance footage of his activities over the past few years in my bar.”
Three rangers approach us, and with a flick of their wrists, their telescopic batons swish to full extension.
Silver wands, as thin as ribbon, but as sharp as whips.
They would not risk harming a woman—it is not worth their job—so I jump before Joey, knowing they’ll struggle to reach him in this space without hurting me first. My desperation thrusts forward the memory of the kind ranger who delivered me into the city.
I surrender my palms, pleading with their human side—a side I hope hasn’t withered beneath the miserable weight of these times.
“He’s been framed! I can provide proof of the true supplier of these drugs, and I have witnesses.
” My finger and burning gaze point towards Krick.
“This man is a criminal, abusing and plying women with drugs to make them dependent!”
My voice shakes with the rest of my body, but it seems to work. The rangers halt, adjusting their stances while they reassess the situation. I imagine the ranger who drove me into the city among them—a sympathetic human who can see the situation for what it is.
Krick waves his hand dismissively, shaking his head. His usual rumble rises to a screech. “I’m the victim here! They’re in this together!”
A ranger steps back while they dispute among themselves. The senior ranger, displaying more stripes, signals Joey over, but they’re at least holstering their batons.
His voice is a muffled shout through his helmet. “Sir, we’re going to take you in for questioning. If you could come with us…”
We have no choice. Joey reluctantly prepares to leave, sighing heavily, but I take his hand, ready to follow him.