Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Richmond Police Station – Raven

Well that had been an exciting couple of minutes and here I was on my knees surrounded by half a dozen uniformed men, truncheons in hand while Marchant eyed the phone like it might bite her.

I can't say that I’d never fantasised about half a dozen blokes in uniform, hello Chippendales, but the reality was sorely disappointing. Looks aside, the adrenalin fuelled sweaty miasma flooding the room was stifling.

"Boys," I sighed out in a flirty breath, yeah, my mouth seems to have a mind of its own when I’m stressed like this, "If you wanted me on my knees you…" someone bumped in to me from behind cutting off whatever it was my mouth was about to spout. I flung my arms out trying to steady myself, and that was all it took. Seconds later it became too hard to breathe, let alone to speak or think clearly.

"Jethuth," I managed to wheeze past my swollen tongue, "thomeone should shee a doctor," before losing my breakfast over the feet in front of my face. I didn't care which idiot had decided a crowded interview room was the perfect place to discharge his pepper spray on my falling ass. Not to mention the dozen or so other bodies crammed in to a room designed for no more than six, himself included.

No, my attention was entirely focussed on the sensations of my eyes melting and throat constricting, while I attempted to learn how to breathe without using my burning lungs. Through osmosis maybe. Thankfully, I felt myself being dragged backwards over the threshold and into fresher air. I can't say the change of location made anything immediately better. Half blind, snot and tears flowing freely, I was propped against something soft and warm as panicked voices rose around me.

The hand that touched my shoulder was gentle, his voice familiar, "Relax luv," my favourite custody sergeant was back, "tilt your head forward, I'm gonna start washing off your face, give it a few minutes then try to open your eyes for me, eh?"

If you'd have asked me this morning I'd have said there was no chance I'd ever be grateful for the police 'onesie' but, if nothing else, it had kept that shit off most of my skin. More importantly, it had saved my clothes from the incinerator, not that they were fancy or anything, but they were mine.

Cool liquid hit my face with more force than I'd been anticipating but it did help. A little. Eventually. At some point the sergeant was replaced by a female officer and I was led off to the showers to finish cleaning off the oily spray. Washed, washed again, and one final time for luck I couldn't procrastinate any longer. I emerged from the shower surprised to find my escort gone, a towel and fresh evidence suit left sitting on her chair waiting for me.

Looking only vaguely human, hair fritzed from the shower room and adorned in a crisp new body suit, the custody suite was a very different place when I found my way back there. Po-faced, 'men in black' like sentinels now filled the space. Tall, broad and dressed identically in fancy black Italian suits they'd even kept their shades on, talk about cliché!

They had come.

Each door was guarded, every officer shadowed, and pairs were stationed on each wall so that no corner of the suite went unobserved. It was so over the top I doubt anyone missed the message. The mood was solemn, the room silent bar the scratch of pen on paper at the custody desk.

As one, the sentinels turned in my direction, nodding briefly in acknowledgement before turning their attention back to the room.
"Ma'am," familiar or not, coming from behind me, I jumped probably just as the asshole expected, "what have you gotten yourself into this time?"

"Raaf!" I launched myself at his enormous frame, barely managing to get my arms around his neck in an overdue hug, "How many times? It’s got, you muppet," I lowered my voice to whisper into his ear, not caring that half the sentinels would probably still hear every word as I voiced what was concerning me, "he's not here is he?"

"No little birdie," he pulled me against him taking over the hug, "tied up in court so it’s just us and umm," oh if Raaf was hesitating this was going to be bad, "the MD. He was, umm, upset."

My old bodyguard, a full security team, and the Major Domo... the embassy seneschal... who just happened to be one of the court's favourite assassins, well shit. 'Upset’ - Raaf hadn't lost his talent for understatement.

Speaking of the devil, he strode purposefully into the room with, judging by her epaulettes, a very senior police officer at his side. I ran my eyes over them both quickly - she looked calm and collected, and didn’t appear to be splattered with blood. Not yet anyway, so their meeting couldn’t have been too acrimonious.

His eyes locked on to mine, his lips turning down into the slightest of frowns as he took me in. I sighed, I knew exactly what that expression meant. I wriggled from Raaf's embrace, schooling my face and straightening my body just as I'd been taught. Might as well try and salvage what I could from this situation.

He ran his gaze over me hesitating at the small marks left by my earlier scrubbing and his frown deepened. He was still clearly disappointed. Then again, he always was where I was concerned.

I could only imagine the instructions he'd been given, my being mostly unscathed had probably deprived him the opportunity to execute those orders, or the offending officers. Like that was my fault, but what was one more thing for him to hold against me?

His face relaxed as he turned back towards the top cop, his Barry White bass rumbling low and silky smooth, the same chocolatey tones I’d last heard yesterday, as he spoke so quietly she had to lean in to catch what he was saying. It was too quiet for me to catch anything specific, but Raaf must have caught at least some of it, his grip periodically tightening as he fought against his instincts to say something.

The meat of their conversation soon became clear when DS Marchant joined them. She pointed to a few officers, clearly in response to some question, who promptly did their best to disappear in to the background. She barely showed any of the annoyance she had to be feeling as her boss kept talking to her, something I could appreciate, it was usually me getting the lecture. Nodding once, she turned on her heel and walked my way.

I pulled Raaf back, earning an epic eye roll as I prevented him for getting between the two of us. It didn’t take her long to reach me, "Ma'am," she spat out, clipped tones but looks like she’d taken the news better than I would have. "I've been informed you have an alibi for the homicides, your diplomatic status takes care of the other charges. Involved or not, you're free to go..."

And she’d been doing so well, slipping in that passive aggressive barb revealed just how pissed she was. As if I couldn’t tell from her grimace. If she bit down any harder she was going to crush her teeth to bits.

"Sorry," I interrupted her, "but believe it or not I was just trying to help, we all have our orders, like them or not," I overlooked the derisive snort, I wouldn't like it any either if our positions were reversed, "but we want the same thing here, to find whoever's responsible for the deaths of my sister and the other victims."

I looked meaningfully around the custody suite stopping briefly on the seneschal, "I was trying to keep this circus out of your station," I leaned in conspiratorially lowering my voice, "whatever you do, do not report anything 'odd' that happened in the interview room," she'd followed my gaze to the seneschal who strode towards us. I not so subtly turned away from him, drawing her with me as I continued quickly, voice quieter still, "We need to talk, I can explain later, but it's important..."

"Hmm, I thought everything was resolved," I was out of time as the seneschal pushed in between us, "what's so important, hmm?"
"The officer was just," oh crap, what might he consider important enough to let me continue chatting to Marchant? I looked at her blank face pleadingly.

"The officer was just explaining," Raaf barely missed a beat as he replied for both of us, "the matter of what happened in the interview room…"

Just fucking marvellous, I thought, ratted out by my own bodyguard, "…and asking whether the boss lady wanted to file an excessive force complaint."

OK, maybe Raaf could live a little longer.

"No, no complaint," of course he'd want to get me home, "Peter has your belongings, it's time to go home," the pause was barely noticeable, "now."

Marchant gave a curt nod and turned away my escort forming up around me as I was led away. The ride was going to be so much fun, not.