I got about ten minutes away from home, and a good five miles from the gas station I’d just left when suddenly sirens started blaring. I glanced in my rearview mirror and saw red and blue lights flashing behind me. Unfortunately, the car was focused on me and not trying to go around.
Dammit to hell in a handbasket!
What next?
I inhaled full and deep as the tears started pricking the back of my eyes. I could not afford a speeding ticket.
Please, Lord, let him give me a verbal warning. Please, please, please. If you do, I’ll go to that stupid dinner with Sonia and take one for the sisterhood.
Careful as could be, I hit my blinker and shifted over to the side of the road. The area was a bit creepy and located in the industrial part of town where not a lot of people spent time when it wasn’t daylight hours.
Doing my best to keep calm, I employed the yoga breathing technique Mama Kerri taught me. Through the years our foster mom taught us weekly yoga, all eight of us “sisters” in a circle of unity as she called it, breathing and holding hands.
The tears still fell as I rolled down my window and checked my side mirror.
A tall, dark, male form was silhouetted by the single red and blue flashing light. The kind you see on an unmarked cop car. The man approached slowly. He had his gun out and down at his side. He was wearing dark slacks and a sportscoat but that was about all I could see. My entire focus was on the gun hanging at his side.
Were they supposed to have their guns out for a routine traffic stop? And why wasn’t he in a cruiser? Why was he in a suit and not a uniform?
Oh my god! Did he think I was a criminal? I mean the car used to be in Sonia’s name, but she gave it to me when she traded up. For a few seconds I filtered through tons of memories trying to figure out if her name was still on the car or my own. No, it was me. I paid the registration fee this year. Yeah. I nodded to myself as the officer got closer.
“Ma’am, hands to the steering wheel,” a low and very deep voice demanded.
Shoot. I knew that. Everyone did nowadays.
I placed my shaking hands on the wheel and turned my head to the side and out the window a bit.
“I’m sorry, Officer. I mean…”
“Ma’am, please step out of the vehicle.” His voice was direct and brooked no argument.
“Um, why? I didn’t even know I was speeding. I swear. I have a lot on my mind and I just got fired from my job…well technically, I quit because my boss was harassing me and grabbed my butt and…”
“Ma’am. Now. Out of the vehicle,” his request came again.
“But? Why? I-I…is this normal?” My voice cracked.
“I have reason to believe you stole this car and are carrying illegal paraphernalia in it. Please, do as I ask and get out of the vehicle. Keep your hands visible at all times. Do not reach for anything inside the car.”
My heart pounded so hard I thought I might have a heart attack.
Drugs. Stolen car.
What the heck was happening?
“Officer…” I glanced down at the shiny gold badge clipped to his belt, but it didn’t look like the normal badge a regular cop wore. The letters F-B-I glinted off the headlights from his car. “Really, this is a mistake. I am the rightful owner of this car and I don’t have drugs, nor have I ever done them.” I moved my right arm out toward the glove compartment. “I can show you my registration and…”
“Out. Of. The. Vehicle.” He ground the command out.
“Okay, okay. Um, I have to unlatch my seat belt.”
“Do it. Then hands up.”
I did as he said, trying the latch twice before I could get it to release. As he required, I put my hands up into the air, reached for the latch, and pushed the door open. It squeaked so loud I shivered at the sound; all of the doors made that sound. It had been doing that for a full year and I didn’t know how to make it stop. Trey, my useless no-longer boyfriend, didn’t even try to fix it. No-good loser. Another in the con column that was Trey Barker.
My hands continued to shake, and tears fell down my cheeks as I stood with my hands up.
“Close the door,” he demanded.
I did as he asked and squinted against the light.
“Now follow me. One foot in front of the other,” he instructed as though he were speaking to a child.
“Are you arresting me?” A deluge of tears fell down my cheeks as my chest constricted and my stomach plummeted.
“Ma’am just follow me. Closer.” He waved his non-gun-toting hand as he walked backward.
“I don’t understand. This is so crazy. I didn’t do anything wrong. I swear! It’s my car and I don’t have drugs. You can check it.”
“And I will, when you’re safely sitting in my car.”
“Oh my God! You’re arresting me!”
That’s when I lost it.
I punched my hands into my hair, tugging on the long, beachy golden waves until they were hanging off my now heated neck.
“This is unbelievable! The absolute worst day of my entire life. And my parents died in a fire! At the same time! And I had to go to foster care with my sister. And this day, oh my God. Sonia! My sister…no, Officer, you cannot arrest me. You do not understand what this will do to my sister. She’s the…”
“Ma’am! Get over here now!” The officer grated through a super scary rumble pushing me into immediate action.
When I got closer, he latched onto my wrist and tugged me close to his body. My chest slammed against his and I placed my hands to his muscular biceps. I stared up into the darkest set of eyes I’d ever seen. Like a black cup of coffee, yet with little golden-brown flecks at the center. His skin was an olive tone, his jaw cut square, framed by cheekbones that were sharp slashes as though chiseled into fine marble. He had dark brown hair that was longer on top and shorter at the sides. If I had to guess, I’d put him in the dark Italian stallion category or Greek god.
He was beautiful.
One of his hands moved to my waist where he squeezed, and he dipped his head so close to my ear I could feel his warm breath against my cheek. “We received a report that someone crawled into the back of a blonde woman’s red old-model four-door Honda Civic at a gas station. First two letters of the license plate are A2.”
“W-what?”
“I need to check your car. Fast. If it’s not you, another woman could get hurt.”
“Oh my god! I did get gas.” I held onto his biceps so hard I may have left nail imprints.
“It’s okay, you’re safe now,” he murmured, and I closed my eyes, taking in his woodsy and fresh linens scent. It helped calm me instantly.
Until we both heard the familiar metal creaking sound against the quiet of the cool night.
I whirled around and saw a thin, tall man standing next to my car, a full ski mask covering most of his face aside from cutouts around the eyes and mouth.
Before I could do or say anything, I was grabbed around the waist and spun behind the cop as the guy in a mask lifted his arm, pointed a gun, and fired off two shots.
The officer took two to the chest as I screamed. He fell back against me as two more shots were fired. One must have whizzed past him because a blooming round of fire ripped through the side of my bicep on the arm that I’d placed around the officer to hold him up.