Chapter 45
Brody
I sat back and watched Officer Drew Preston gape at the lawyer who had just sat opposite him.
Ronan Black had flown up to Maine this morning from New York for me. He was cutthroat, cold-blooded, and legend had it, a mob boss’s son. I didn’t care about his lineage at all. I just knew there was no better lawyer to intimidate wrongdoers than one who looked like he’d served time himself.
He was a big guy, intimidating, with scarred, tattooed knuckles, an Irish accent, and swagger like no other.
“Now, Officer Preston, since you aren’t being forthcoming, let me tell you what we know for sure.”
Black put his briefcase on the table and paused, as if he were deciding whether to open it or bludgeon Preston with it.
He chose to open it and pulled out several case files. The devil worked fast, but Ronan Black’s paralegals worked faster.
“Here are the lists of complaints and misconduct allegations you’ve racked up over your years on the job. It’s five times the number of anyone else currently working at your station, congratulations. Your ex-partner had similar numbers.”
Preston paled, staring down at the files.
“So? Those charges were all dropped.”
“Yes, they were, which begs a little investigation into why they were dropped. You see, some of these could still be pursued. I happened to spend the morning in town and had the chance to speak with some of the victims. You’d be surprised how a strong cup of tea—Barry’s, of course—a sympathetic ear, and the offer to take on their cases pro bono has helped them regain their confidence.
Confidence they lost after being threatened by the accused. ”
Officer Preston didn’t have a comeback for that one.
“I’m impressed you’ve found Barry’s tea here,” I said to Ronan, thoroughly enjoying seeing Preston squirm.
“I bring my own.” Ronan took a sip of the black, viscous-looking coffee in his mug and grimaced. He tapped his fingers on the table to bring Preston’s attention back to him.
“Now, I have a clear mandate from Mr. Sinclair, and he has provided fresh evidence that you not only extorted ten thousand dollars, which you have on your person at this very moment, but you are also blackmailing a person using sexual content of them taken and used without their consent.” He took a leaflet out his briefcase.
“The first charges I’ll bring against you are for sexually coerced extortion, image-based abuse, and nonconsensual image-based sharing—and those are based on your interaction with Ms. Selena Carmichael alone.
Who knows what will come up with enough time and money to investigate? ”
“Charge what you want, Black, you have carte blanche to put this guy away as long as you can. In fact, I’ll give you a million-dollar bonus if it’s over twenty-five years,” I told him.
Ronan chuckled. “Challenge accepted.” He pushed the leaflet he’d taken out of his briefcase toward Officer Preston. It read:
The Law Won:
A Guide to Understanding Your Charges
“Now, if that’s all, I’ll be catching a flight back to New York. I’ll follow up with the rest of the victims from my office and come back to brief you on things. I called the cops on the way in, so they should be here any minute now.”
“You don’t need to come all the way out here. I’m in New York often.”
“Believe it or not, you’re not the only client I have in this little town.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “Who else lives here that requires services like yours?”
A ghost of a smile touched his mouth. “Let’s just say, you’d know him if you’d met him.”
And then he was striding toward the exit.
I turned back to Officer Preston and relaxed in my seat, leaning an arm along the back of the booth. Preston had gone an alarming shade of white, with a mottled red creeping up his neck. Maybe the wanker would do us all a favor and drop dead. What a shame that would be.
“So, I take it that we understand each other?”
Preston was quiet a second and then drew a ragged breath. “You’re doing all this why? For her? That whore?”
“Be careful, Preston. You can go to jail with or without functioning limbs.”
“I’m serious, man. You’re a Sinclair. You’re a billionaire, and yet, you choose her… when you could have anyone. You choose those damaged goods—is there something wrong with you?”
I’d been calm. I’d been controlled. I’d made sure that justice was coming for this fucker, and yet, his words flipped the lid on a simmering anger that I hadn’t realized was festering just below the surface.
I chuckled, but it was dark and furious. “You just insist on running your mouth. Too dumb to shut the fuck up.”
And I lost it.
I lashed out with my feet first. Kicking forward hard, taking Preston in the stomach. He doubled over as I straightened up and rounded the table and smashed my fist into his face. Again and again, I hit him. The diner had gone silent, everyone watching, no one trying to stop me.
I grabbed him by the collar and wrenched him up to look in his eyes.
“You want to take advantage of vulnerable women? I’m sure the big boys in prison will feel the same way about you.
Just think of them when the same happens to you.
You made a mistake that will cost you the rest of your life when you decided to mess with her,” I snarled at him.
My self-control was long gone, broken into a thousand pieces in the gutter.
I hit him again, enjoying the way his nose burst and his lip split.
Preston muttered something thick and wet. I almost couldn’t make it out.
He repeated it after spitting blood to the side.
“Why her?” he asked through his bleeding mouth.
“Because, she is mine. Mine to have, mine to keep, mine to fucking protect. You didn’t just mess with her. You messed with me. You messed with the Sinclairs. For that, you’ll pay the price for the rest of your days.”
“Brody!” Hands pulled me back. Cal was in my face, wresting me away from Preston.
The red haze that had lowered over my vision gradually cleared.
Preston was out cold, lying in a pool of blood. People were pressed against the wall in the diner, giving us a wide berth and desperately trying to avoid trouble.
“Brody!” Cal shouted again.
Gradually, my rage faded enough to hear his words.
“What?”
“I said, where is Selena? She hasn’t come outside yet.”
What the fuck?
Outside, blue and red lights flashed in the distance.
She isn’t with Cal. Where is she?
“Bloody hell, you beat up a cop,” Cal was saying.
His mouth was moving, but it was hard to hear him. I had no control over my body.
“I’m calling Ronan, I’ll get him to meet you at the station.”
I lunged toward Cal and gripped his T-shirt.
“She did leave. She went to meet you,” I managed to get out.
God, loss of control was like torture. How did people function like this?
Fear cut through my logic and rationality, fury and panic making it hard to breathe.
My body wasn’t obeying me, and it was getting in the fucking way.
Cal blanched. “I was there. She never came out. I was in my car right across from the front entrance.”
I shook my head and looked at Preston. He was still unconscious. There’d be no asking him anything.
The cop cars drew up outside the diner.
Fuck. I turned to Cal. “You need to find her. Ask to see the security footage here, call Winter and the Ice Gods to help, they know her, and the town. Find her—” I was cut off when the cops stormed into the diner and descended on me.
My breath slammed out of my chest as I was pushed face down onto the tabletop, my hands cuffed behind my back.
“I’m calling his lawyer,” Cal was saying calmly to the police, his phone to his ear. “He won’t answer any questions until he is present.”
I held my brother’s stare, fucking powerless to do anything to help find Selena, despite the urgency to do just that screaming through me.
“Find her,” I urged Cal.
He nodded.
The cops yanked me up and hustled me out the door.