Hawk (A Stepbrother Romance #3)(70)

"Take it real easy," the passenger cop says. "We're taking you inside, gonna get you your new digs until the boss comes back to deal with you."

"The boss?"

No answer. They step out, and the ring of cops moves closer. One of them, I think the one who sat in the passenger seat, draws his piece while the driver opens the door. I swing my legs out and they all tense up as I stand. With a gun pointed in my face, they walk me inside. The pavement cuts my bare feet.

"Easy there, Tex."

The cop with the gun snorts. "Shut up."

Sighing, I walk inside, leaving red streaks on the floor. The police station looks like the set from a low budget 70s cop show. Everything is coffee colored and worn down, and a dozen pencils stick in the ceiling. Most of the first floor is open desks, with some offices behind frosted glass, painted with the occupant's names. Half the force must be here, escorting me. Not that they have much to do with the state police providing all the police and public services for the town, or so I'm told. They keep walking me back until I stop in front of a heavy door.

"Welcome to the fish tank."

The cop with the gun opens the door and motions me in. Inside it's a concrete room, like a bunker, with a one-way window on the far side. An interrogation room. Two more draw their guns and cover me as they uncuff me, pull my arms around to the front, and use leg shackles to bind me to a steel ring in the middle of the bolted-down table. I settled into the bolted-down chair and they finally step back and put up their pieces.

"See you later," one of them snaps.

The cops file out and the door slams, and closes with a heavy, dull thud.

I have to f*cking get out of here.

First I stand up and pull on the chain. It's not going to break, but that ring might. Getting the door open is step two, but right now, all I care about is step one. The ring is just screwed down, regular machine screws in the middle of the table. I lean back and pull, put my back and legs into it, and feel a surge in my chest when the table creaks.

Nothing. It doesn't budge. If I had a f*cking quarter I could probably get it loose.

Desperate, I sit down, plant my elbows on the table, and contract my arms, pulling that way. Nothing. I try putting my feet on the table leg, but they just slip off. I can't get any leverage.

Nothing in my pockets, not even a quarter to try turning the screws. Damn it, damn it, damn it all to hell.

"Hey!"

I freeze, and look up.

There's a window about the size of a shoebox in the top of the wall, with two bars set in it, as if anyone can escape through an opening that small. Outside there's a glass window, the kind that cranks open. It's been pulled up, and Jennifer Katzenberg's face fills the opening.

"Hey!"

I stand up. "What the f*ck are you doing here?"

"Get away from the wall."

"What?"

"Get away from the wall!"

I dart to the inward side of the room, as far as the chain will let me, and lean back.

There's a noise outside, like distant thunder, or a big, big animal snarling. Then the sound of rubber on pavement, squealing, and the loudest noise I've ever heard, even louder than the flashbang. The wall folds in, cracking all around the middle, folding and breaking into pieces like a Pop-Tart in a kid's hands. Chunks of masonry fall inwards and dust slides off the surface of a… thing.

It's on tires half as tall as I am, big knobby swamp rompers, it's all black, and as it backs up I swear a see a freaking tank tread in the back, like it's some kind of weird whipped off half-track trike. The whole thing shudders backwards, the top opens, Jennifer leaps out, and runs over to me, jumping over the debris. She's all in black, the same outfit she had on the other night. Without a word she grabs my hands and undoes the cuffs with a key.

"Let's go."

"Where-"

"Go!"

Then the door swings open.

She looks up. A Paradise Falls cop steps into the room, holding his gun out in an awkward, improper Isosceles stance.

Jennifer whirls, pivots on one heel, and kicks the gun out of his hand. In the same motion she turns on her other foot and her heel catches him square in the face, and she yanks the door shut.

"I said go!"

Okay.

I tromp over the debris and alongside the… thing. It does have a tank tread in the back. The engine is loud. Jennifer climbs up inside and offers me a hand. I find handholds and climb up the sides, and she hands me a headset as I slip into the seat behind her, and the canopy slides shut.

Her voice is tinny in my ear.

"Are you hurt?"

"The hell with me, where's Alexis?"

"They're moving her. I heard on the police scanner."

"What the f*ck is this thing?"

"My other car."

She pulls back on a yoke, like an airplane, and the big machine rumbles backwards, lurching with surprising power. She turns the yoke and it turns in place, rumbling, and she kicks in her foot and it starts forward, throwing me back into the seat.

The big front tires hit the front end of a Paradise Falls cruiser, the tires lift up, and there's a crunch and a metallic squeal as the tread in the back shreds the front end of the vehicle.

I blink a few times. I heard about these things. This is one of those experimental high speed tactical vehicles. I read an article about them in a magazine. Popular Science. The government scrapped them, they were too expensive.