Page 82 of Precious Legacy
I level him with a glare, masking my anxious thoughts that tell me this guy is definitely up to no good. I might be nervous as hell on the inside, but I won’t let him see it. If there’s onething my dad taught me, it’s never to show your cards to your enemies, and Prescott is my enemy.
Stalking towards the bars, I’m about to sling some snarky retort about using that threatening tone when he uses my name, but then a second set of footsteps catch my attention. My eyes widen, and that fear I’ve just suppressed comes rising to the surface so quickly I think I might hurl.
“Are you done with my daughter?” Mom snaps at Prescott. “Or do I need to speak to the commissioner about conspiring to obstruct justice?”
So this is what Varo meant about fixing things.
Prescott doubles back, his brows rising so high they almost hit his hairline. He glances back at me, but I’m just as shocked to see my mom standing with her hands on her hips like she’s two seconds away from tearing his balls off.
She taps her heeled toe on the floor while clutching a winter coat in one arm. Considering it’s three in the morning, she looks like she’s dressed for war, courtroom style. With a full trouser suit and freshly made face, I can see now how she became so successful. She looks harmless until she opens her mouth, and with a glare that could cut through steel, she’s fucking lethal.
Clearing her throat, she raises a brow impatiently at Prescott, who shifts nervously in response.
For a moment, they’re locked in a staring match, neither one backing down. But then Prescott relents, rolling his eyes as he steps up the door and shoves the key in the lock. “Wait until the Chief hears about this,” he grumbles under his breath as he turns the key and yanks the door open.
As soon as it swings wide, I push past him, making a beeline for my mom. She clutches my hand immediately, moving me behind her like she’s my human shield. “Go ahead,” she sneers. “I’m sure he’d love to know about you aiding and abetting your brother.”
I freeze up, shock and suspicion coursing through my veins. When it comes to my mom, I should know better than to discount her abilities. She got my dad out of a difficult situation before, so I can’t be surprised that she always has something up her sleeve. Apparently, whatever she has on Prescott is enough to make him just as uncomfortable as I feel.
His jaw clenches and he immediately shuts up, slamming the jail door behind us while the sound echoes down the long corridor.
I’m left suspended in awe. Watching a grown man get verbally beaten by my mom has got to be the highlight of my night—not that the bar was set very high. By the time I’ve managed to collect my thoughts, mom is marching down the corridor and out of the precinct. I rush after her, collecting my phone and purse from the front desk on the way and avoiding eye contact with the officers on duty.
As soon as we step outside, I feel the cold air bite at my skin. My cheeks flush with heat and I let out a relieved sigh. I amble after my mom, who’s pacing towards the Range Rover parked by the sidewalk.
“Mom?” I frown, pausing my steps as I stare at the blacked-out windows.
Stepping towards me, she wraps her coat around my shoulders and offers me a warm smile. “Are you okay?” she asks sweetly, cupping my cheek.
I nod silently, leaning into her touch. I’m still reeling over how my mom just bulldozed and owned Prescott’s ass. It’s a shame Dad isn’t here, because I know he’d have loved to see that. I dart a wary glance at her, clutching the coat tighter to my body. With the winter chill setting, the air is crisper. I really should’ve thought about wearing warmer clothes tonight. “Dad?—”
“Your dad’s at home,” she supplies. “And Haldon is working on Roman’s bail.”
Relief washes over me. I don’t know how she can read my mind all the time. Maybe it's my mother's instinct or intuition, but I find myself automatically relaxing. Dad and I have only just repaired our broken relationship. For the past six weeks, I’ve been making as much of an effort as I can to prove that my decision to join the police isn’t a mistake. I’ve spent most Sundays having family dinners, regaling the details of my weeks at the academy. I’ve been excelling, ranking in the top five percent of my class for marksmanship and defense tactics, and Dad’s been irrefutably impressed.
Is that about to change?
“You’re not mad?” I ask warily.
Mom scoffs and turns on her heel, reaching for the car door. “It’s not the first time I’ve had to bail a Bonanno out.”
My lips kick up in a knowing smile as she pulls the door open for me. I know Dad has seen the inside of a cell more than once, and my brother has been arrested a handful of times. But it’s a first for me, and I seriously thought she’d be pissed about it—Dad, too.
“Besides, we wouldn’t be Bonanno’s if we didn’t visit a jail cell at least once, right?” Gesturing for me to get in, I obey and slide into the passenger’s seat, not questioning what she means by that statement. The seats are still warm from where mom’s obviously had the heater on, and I immediately sink into the plush leather, humming to myself as my ass presses into the seat.
“I tried to get here sooner,” Mom explains. “As soon as Varo called me, I was on the phone?—”
“It’s okay. I’m just glad to be out of there,” I murmur.
With a smile, she starts the car. “Then let’s get you home.”
We let the silence envelop us. I’m tired and worried, and filled with anxious energy, but Mom doesn’t say another word as she drives. It’s like she can sense I need to be alone with my thoughts right now, and I appreciate the hell out of her for that. I need to assess my situation, work out my next steps, because come Monday, I’m not so sure I’ll have a spot in the academy. Being involved in illegal gambling is one thing, but to get caught up in a raid, whether I’m guilty of gambling or not, is definitely inappropriate.
Not to mention how they now know my real name.
To distract myself, I pull out my phone from my purse and check the missed calls and messages. Most of them are from Haven, but I notice one from my brother, telling me he’s waiting at my apartment. There’s nothing from Roman, though, and my heart squeezes in my chest, aching with the fear that he hasn’t been released yet.
It’s no secret how attached we’ve become to one another. He’s pretty much moved in with me, and I don’t mind it one bit. I’ve found a way out of my twisted hate for him and delved into something deeper. It’s something I didn’t think was possible until tonight, because loving Roman was never my plan. Which is probably why I feel so hollow as we pull up outside my building, knowing he isn’t waiting inside for me.
