Page 165 of Things We Hide from the Light

“Bite me, Lucifer.”

Knox and Lucian took their stances next to Nash and Nolan.

“Pretty sure you’re the only one being investigated for abuse of power, ya jack wagon,” someone in the crowd drawled at Dilton.

“You shut your dirty, lyin’ mouth or I’ll shut it for you,” he snarled.

He was drunk, which made him that much more dangerous. I noticed Sergeant Hopper and another officer sidling up behind the first line of defense, ready to step in if necessary. Realizing I wasn’t going to get a shot at avenging Sloane or myself, I let myself go limp against Harvey.

He released me, then patted me on the head before stepping up next to Hopper.

Irritated, I joined Naomi and Sloane. Our view was restricted by the ring of Knockemout citizens taking Nash’s back.

“Come on,” I said, spotting an abandoned picnic table.

“But Lucian told Sloane not to move,” Naomi said, lifting the hem of her dress.

“Lucian can kiss my ass,” Sloane said and followed me.

The three of us climbed up onto the table.

“Pretty sure he’d like to do more than kiss it,” I guessed.

She ignored my comment and squinted at the crowd. “All I can see are pissed-off blobs.”

“We’ll get your glasses as soon as Nash is done talking these assholes to death,” I promised.

Naomi shook her head. “Oh, he’s not talking them to death. He’s lulling them into a fake sense of complacency. Just watch.”

“Tate?” A pretty blond on the edge of the crowd wrung her hands.

“Go back to the car, Melissa,” Dilton snapped.

“Mom called. Ricky has a fever—”

“Go back to the fuckin’ car!”

The woman scurried away, disappearing into the crowd.

“You’re under arrest, Williams,” Nash said to the guy who’d grabbed Sloane. “You have the right to an attorney.”

But Nash wasn’t reaching for cuffs and he also wasn’t taking a defensive stance. From my vantage point, I could see Williams getting ready to do something really stupid. He waited untilNash had almost finished reading him his rights before making his move.

I watched in slow motion as the man’s fist plowed into Nash’s face. A very feminine gasp escaped me as his head snapped back with the force of the blow. But he didn’t stagger and he didn’t put his hands up to defend himself.

I made a move to jump down from the table, but Naomi stopped me. No one else in the crowd had moved a muscle.

“What the hell is he doing?” I hissed. “Nash just let that guy hit him.”

“It’s a whole thing,” Naomi said. “If he gets hit first, it’s self-defense, and according to Lucian, the legal bills are smaller.”

“Plus, this counts as resisting arrest,” Sloane added.

“Why, I do believe Bronte Williams just assaulted an officer while resisting arrest,” Harvey yelled through cupped hands.

“That’s what I saw,” a woman in flannel agreed.

“Same here.”