Throne of Truth (Truth and Lies Duet #2)

“Obviously.”


“No, he found you the night he was released.” He waited for that bomb to destroy me. “He found you and then refused to contact you.”

Tears puddled inside, growing wetter with every breath. “Why?”

“I’m guessing that’s his part to tell.” He cleared his throat. “I’d better go. I’ll get my ass down to the station and start the proceedings to free him. Again.” Something clattered in the background. “I don’t know how things ended with you tonight, but if you want, call me tomorrow, and I’ll arrange a time for you to see him once he’s been processed.”

My heart lurched. “Wait, he won’t be released tonight?”

Larry laughed as if I’d told a hilarious joke. “No, my dear. Where Penn is concerned, the NYPD have a thing against him. They’ll keep him locked up for as long as they can. And they’ll succeed.”

“Why?”

“Because they have history.”





Chapter Sixteen


Penn


I FUCKING HATED bars.

I hated metal sinks and hard-ass beds.

I hated the men who were as corrupt as everyone else, getting high off shiny badges and getting hard on screwing over innocence.

Fair and just, my ass.

The short journey down to the precinct irritated me. The cops and their radios irritated me. Pedestrians and traffic lights irritated me.

Everything fucking irritated me because I knew I wouldn’t be treated fairly.

The moment I was on their turf, I had no power.

None.

I sat in fury, listening to my heartbeat pounding and splashing around in pools of regret. For once, the regret wasn’t toward Elle but Larry. I’d let him down. I’d promised him I wouldn’t be in this situation again because it was too fucking hard to get free last time when I’d done nothing wrong.

This time...I had done something wrong.

I’d beaten up Greg.

They had reason to detain me, and the man out for my blood would fucking wring his hands in glee when I showed up. He would ensure Greg would elaborate and collaborate; he’d document my victim’s injuries with pride, and he would once again take great satisfaction in fucking over my life knowing he had me fair and square.

It wouldn’t matter Greg had been the kidnapper and about-to-be rapist. It wouldn’t matter his crimes far exceeded my own. And it didn’t matter I’d been taken shoeless, moneyless, and with dried blood and gore all over my body.

It would make an interesting mug shot.

It would only make his workday that much more enjoyable.

My head ached with the battle I was about to walk into. I wanted to rub my face, but the cuffs kept my hands tied. New York spat me out like a worm from the apple as the cop car slid through the reinforced gates and into Hell.

I didn’t make eye contact or listen to the bastards who’d arrested me as they opened the vehicle, let me climb out with my motherfucking dignity, and didn’t dare touch me as we stalked into the processing room.

And wouldn’t you know? He was there already.

Him.

My nemesis.

His uniform, like always, was iron-creased with starched perfection. His salt and pepper hair cut short on the sides and balding on top. The paunch from too many years spent behind a desk and too much gluttony on the lost dreams of others thickened his middle.

His hands annoyed me.

His face annoyed me.

His entire fucking body pissed me the fuck off.

I stood tall, bracing my legs. “Hello, Arnold.”

His chapped lips opened in undisguised joy. “Ah, hello again, Everett. Fancy seeing you here. This is my lucky day.” He bared his teeth with bipolar emotions. “By the way, it’s chief of police to you.”

“Chief?” I cocked my head condescendingly. “Seems, I owe you congratulations. Last time you fucked me over, you were only a captain.”

He buffed his nails on his shirt, gloating. “Yes, well, I’ve moved up the ranks since then.”

Not good.

Fucking so not good for me.

“So it’s Chief Twig now?” I wrinkled my nose. “No better than Captain Twig, is it? An unfortunate last name you’ve got there, Arnie.”

His face reddened with anger. “You honestly want to piss me off? You know what happened last time, boy.”

“I do remember last time. Quite clearly, in fact.” I smirked. “And I have no doubt being polite or begging for mercy will get me the exact same conclusion as being a fucking bastard. So do your worst.”

I shifted on the spot, spreading my stance. “Oh, and I’m no longer a boy. Then again, keep calling me that if it make’s you feel better, seeing as I could kick your ass back when I was thirteen.”

The other officers stepped forward, one on either side to teach me a lesson in respect.

But Arnold waved them off. He enjoyed breaking me too much to let others do it. “I’ll take it from here, ladies and gentlemen. Good work bringing in this violent repeat offender. Coffee’s on me.”

“Not a problem, Chief.” The officers left, closing the door behind them.

I wished they hadn’t.

If they’d stay for the show, they’d finally learn what a twisted, immoral bastard their captain, now chief, was.

The room turned stagnant with history, slurs, and a past both of us would like to delete.

“Don’t you mean the donuts are on you?” I glared at his waistline. “Put on a few pounds there, Arnie.”

His hands clenched into balls, but he smiled tightly. “Keep being a dick and your rap sheet will just get longer and longer.”

“I don’t need to be a dick for that to happen. By the time I’m out of this place, the protection of a woman from an asshole about to rape her will have morphed into armed robbery, intent to kill, child molesting, and most likely a bank job and grannie murder.” I smiled, even though I felt like tearing the room apart with rage. “Isn’t that right, Arnie?”

He matched my smile, both of us using a normally kind human response to wield emotion filled with contempt and loathing. “You got it, my boy.”

“If you’re going to use a term of endearment, how about you choose a more appropriate one?”

Arnold grinned. “What would you prefer?”

“Oh, I dunno. How about the truth for once? Scapegoat? Fall Guy? Whipping Boy? Any of those work.”

I’m the one you blame and take the rap for others, you lying sack. Might as well own up to it.

His face blackened. “Keep your voice down.”

“Why? So your staff won’t find out what a heartless cunt you are?”

He flinched.

I didn’t stop.

“Five years of my life you stole on three different occasions—all for things I didn’t do. And now, you’re about to steal more. But this time, I’m not gonna be so silent. I have a family now. I’m rich. Charge me with whatever you goddamn like, but rest assured, I won’t have some shitty state-appointed lawyer who’s on your payroll to shuttle me off to the slammer and then be beaten by your men to keep me silent inside.”

I took a step toward him.