Page 6 of Wanna Play A Game?

I make it to the doorway to see Ryder illuminated in front of us, hands up. He’s facing us and yells, “Stay back! Don’t get involved.”

Another cruiser comes tearing into the lot, and two more cops jump out. That makes four cops, all with guns pointed at Ryder.

“Don’t move! Back up towards me!”

Rage burns in my throat. How dare they? I try to shove past Miles.

Miles shoves me back. “No, bro. There’s too many – you’ll get shot.”

I shove him right back. “He’s family.”

“Stay back!” Ryder barks at me while he backs towards the officers.

Miles pushes in front of me again. He’s slightly bigger than me from all his years in the military. He growls. “Chill, bro, we’ll get him out. We can’t help him if we also go to jail.”

I look into Miles’ green eyes, then feint off to the right. He falls for it, and I jump past him on the left.

Red and blue flashing fills my vision outside. I blame that for why I don’t see the fist flying at my head. Miles hits me hard, and I pause for a fraction of a beat. It gives him time to swing again, his fist smashing into the left side of my face. Blackness softens the lights, and I feel something hit the back of my knees. I fall, trying to sort the swimming darkness.

A heavy weight falls on my back, forcing my stomach to the ground. My right arm is cranked behind me.

“Bro,” Miles hisses, “I said chill. You’re making things worse.”

I groan as my vision clears, and I see Ryder being handcuffed.

I buck, but Miles has enough time to sink my arm into a lock. He locks up my shoulder, sending a white line of pain through it when I move.

“Pup,” I growl, warning lacing my tone. “Let me go.”

He doesn’t.

“Let me go, or I’ll fuck you up,” I grunt in frustration. Ryder looks back at us. His stone-faced expression changes to worry, then anger, when he locks eyes with me. My nose is filled with the smell of tar as I watch my partner get shoved into the back seat of a cruiser.

The rage that fills me is unmatched.

Miles mutters, “Don’t do anything stupid.”

The pressure on my shoulder releases, and I jump to my feet. I shove Miles back hard enough that he takes a few steps back.

He raises his hands in surrender. “The cops are watching, Sawyer. Act cool.”

I glance back. He’s right. Now that they’ve nabbed their prize, they’re now looking at the two of us.

After a pause, one of them walks over. “Hey, he wanted you to have his keys.”

He looks like he thinks his shit doesn’t stink, and I instantly don’t like him. Probably beats his girlfriend at home.

Miles steps in front of me, grabbing what must have been in Ryder’s pockets.

“Where’s he going?” Miles asks.

“Alfalfa County jail for now.” The cop looks down his nose. He and I stare at each other. I bet I could get the skin off his face in one piece. Maybe two.

“Does he have a bond?” Miles asks again.

“No.” Like the pussy I know he is, the cop breaks eye contact first and turns back to the cruiser.

I watch him walk past our truck with the bed full of the instruments Ryder used to kill the lawyer. The cop glances over at it.