J.R. Ward the Black Dagger Brotherhood Novels 5-8 - J. R. Ward [379]
“Sure do.” Mr. D put the car in park and rolled down the window as one of Caldie’s protect-and-serves came up to them. “Hey, Officer. I gots my driver’s license right chere.”
“I need your registration as well.” The cop leaned into the car and then grimaced as though he didn’t like the smell of them.
God, that’s right. The baby powder.
Lash eased back as Mr. D went for the glove compartment, cool as he could be. As he took out a piece of white paper the size of an index card, Lash quickly checked the registration out. Sure looked like it was official. Damn thing had the New York State crest on it, the name of Richard Delano, and an address of 1583 Tenth Street, apartment 4F.
Mr. D handed everything out the window. “I know I wasn’t supposed to do that turn back there, sir. We just wanted something to eat and I missed the parking lot.”
Lash stared at Mr. D, awed by the remarkable display of acting talent. D was just the right combo of rueful shame, earnest apology, and regular Joe as he stared up at the cop. Shit, he looked like his puss should be on the front of a cereal box as he flapped his gums and threw the word sir around like it was amen at a church. He was everything that was wholesome. Full of vitamins and fiber. Packed with vital, good old American nutrition.
The officer looked at the documentation and handed it back. As he flashed his light inside the car, he said, “Just don’t do it—”
He frowned as he looked at Lash.
The cop’s whatever-this-is-a-waste-of-my-time attitude was gone in a split second. Tilting the radio piece on his lapel toward his mouth, he called for backup, then said, “I’m going to have to ask you to get out of the car, sir.”
“Who, me?” Lash said. Fuck, he had no ID on him. “Why?”
“Please get out of the car, sir.”
“Not unless you tell me why.”
The flashlight dipped to the dog chain around Lash’s neck. “We received a complaint about an hour ago from a female at Screamer’s concerning a white male, six-foot-six, blond crew cut, wearing a dog collar. So I need you to get out of the car.”
“What was the complaint?”
“Sexual assault.” Another cop car pulled up in front, then backed in tight to the Focus’s headlights. “Please get out of the vehicle, sir.”
That bitch back at the bar had gone to the police? She’d begged him for it! “No.”
“If you do not get out of the car, I will take you out of it.”
“Get out of the car,” Mr. D said under his breath.
The second officer walked around the Focus and popped open Lash’s door. “Get out of the car, sir.”
This was so not happening. These fucking idiot humans? He was the Omega’s son, for Christ’s sake. He didn’t follow vampire rules, much less ones that governed Homo sapiens.
“Sir?” the cop said.
“How about you fuck yourself with your Taser.”
The officer leaned down and grabbed his arm. “You are under arrest for sexual assault. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. If you cannot afford an attorney—”
“You can’t fucking be serious—”
“—one will be provided for you. Do you understand these rights—”
“Let go of me—”
“—as I’ve read them to you?”
It took both officers to drag Lash out of the car, and what do you know, a crowd gathered. Shit. Even though he could easily tear these men’s arms off and feed them to both their asses, he couldn’t make a scene. Too many witnesses.
“Sir, do you understand these rights?” This was said while Lash was pirouetted around, pushed face-first into the car’s hood, and cuffed.
Lash looked through the windshield at Mr. D, whose face was no longer apple-pie innocent. The guy’s eyes were narrowed, and one could only hope he was racking his brain for a way out of this.
“Sir? Do you understand these rights?”
“Yeah,” Lash spat. “Fucking perfectly.”
The cop on the left leaned in. “By the way, we’re going to tack on a charge of resisting arrest. And that blonde? She was seventeen.”
Chapter Thirty-seven
Out behind the brotherhood’s mansion, Cormia’s bruised feet traveled across the cropped grass