Page 71 of Cursed: Ride or Die
Oh,gods!Hadauthoritiesfinally caught up to Noah for killing the wolf hunters? He braced to run. Slade’s hand on his arm stopped him.
“Good morning, officer. What can I do for you?” Slade used his casual “good ole Southern boy see me be harmless” drawl. No, not casual. His heart rate tapped out a rapid beat in Noah’s ears. Oh, right. Bad boy biker with a history of drug use. Slade probably talked his way out of many situations—and learned how to deal with cops.
“We need you two to come down to the sheriff’s office. Answer a few questions,” the deputy said as casually.
“What’s this about?” Slade looked behind him, then faced forward again.
Noah smelled the sweat and gun oil from the man behind them. Oh shit. Trapped!
“We’ll be asking the questions at the office.” The deputy appeared around the same age as Slade, with auburn hair cut close to his scalp, wide-set green eyes, and an air of authority. The kind of human Paul warned about.
“All right. Let me call my attorney first.” Slade had an attorney?
The deputy shifted from one foot to the other. His scent didn’t give anything away. “You’re not under arrest. We just got a few questions, is all.”
Slade folded his arms over his chest. “I know my rights.”
A gruff voice behind him said, “Your rights don’t amount to a hill of beans in this town.”
Oh, shit. Good cop, bad cop, like on a TV show Noah watched while staying in a motel.
Slade guided Noah down the street toward the sheriff’s office. “You wait here,” the deputy told Slade, leaving him in a waiting area. He fixed his gaze on Noah. “You come with me.”
No! Noah’s eyes had to be wild when he glanced back at Slade.
“Go on,” Slade said. “I’ll be right here. Everything’s going to be all right.” He gave the deputy a meaningful glower, communicating without words.It had better be. At least bad cop hadn’t followed them into the building.
The deputy nodded, waving a hand down a hall. Taking a deep breath, Noah went to his doom. They entered a room with no windows.No! No! Out! Must get out!
“Breathe, son. Sorry, I forgot.” The deputy sounded much less threatening. “Let’s try the boss’s office. He’s not in there.”
The next room had windows, which the deputy opened slightly. “Better?”
Yes. Seeing outside, smelling outside, calmed Noah, despite the cold. How had the deputy known? A discreet sniff said pure human. But… something in this office smelled… different.
“Sit down.” Instead of sitting behind the desk, the deputy took a chair in front and gestured to the other.
Noah sat.
“Now,” the deputy said, “I want you to tell me what happened ‘bout ten years ago up there in Michigan.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!“What happened in…”
“Five people found dead, a guy matching your description assumed dead. Jog any memories loose?”
Oh, gods. They knew. How did they know? Noah echoed Slade’s words. “I want a lawyer.”
The man smiled, not unkindly. “You don’t need no lawyer. We think we already know but want confirmation. Let me guess. They threatened you unless you told him where the others were.”
No, no, no. This human couldn’t possibly know. “What others? There were no others. I lived alone.”
“They didn’t believe you, right?”
Shit! How much could Noah say without saying too much? The bacon and eggs he’d eaten earlier curdled his stomach. His deep breath didn’t calm him. He clutched the chair arms, heart tapping out a frantic beat. Paul could’ve heard him from two rooms away. “Yes… yessir.”
“They hurt you. To the best of your knowledge, they planned to kill you.”
“They had guns… and a knife.” Oh, gods, why couldn’t Noah breathe? He gasped, staring wide-eyed at the deputy.
