Prologue

PROLOGUE

Knox

“ S tep out of your vehicle with your hands up.”

What? Why? I was only going eight miles over the speed limit and it wasn’t like I was swerving across the lines or doing anything crazy. Guess they see the price tag on my red GTR and think I’m a dealer or something. I’m not rocking the boat so I climb out with my arms above my head. Hopefully, once the officer sees the name on my driver’s license, he’ll let me go.

The cop makes his approach, shining his light right into my eyes. Probably checking to see if they’re bloodshot or dilated. I don’t do drugs, but I’m sure it’s going to look like I have been now. My irises are starting to burn.

“You in a rush, boy?” He drops the flashlight, his tone extra surly. He must be having a bad day and I’ve just become the target for his frustration.

“No, sir,” I answer politely, hoping he’ll calm down once he realizes I’m not going to cause trouble.

“Yeah, well, I clocked you at twenty-five miles over the speed limit.” That’s bullshit . That would’ve been the case if I’d been driving through a school zone, but at eight o’clock at night there isn’t a single yellow light flashing anywhere in sight. Not to mention, there’s not a school around for miles. I’m on the back road on the outskirts of town, coming back from Anna’s house. Not even sure why a cop is even out this way in the first place.

“I’m sorry, sir. But my speedometer said I was going fifty-three. I know it’s still eight miles over, but…”

“You calling me a liar, son?” He cuts me off, getting right in my face.

“No, sir.” I shake my head, my nerves starting to pound in my chest. “I wasn’t trying to imply that. I’m just unsure of whether my speedometer is broken since it said I was going slower. The good news is this car has a satellite monitoring system. It’s like its own built-in black box.” Helps track and locate my car’s every move in case of theft. “And if you let me pull up the screen it will show what speed I was going.”

“I don’t need no black box to tell me what I already know, boy. And I don’t appreciate being questioned.” Dammit. Now I’ve really pissed him off. I’m just gonna have to take the ticket, along with proof from the monitoring company into the courtroom and show the judge. There must be something off with the officer’s speed gun, but I’m keeping that thought to myself. For now, I’ll nod and smile and do as asked.

Another set of red and blue flashing lights pulls up behind his cruiser and I breathe a sigh of relief. Maybe this officer will be in a better mood. A bit more reasonable and willing to look at my vehicle’s computer screen. Or at least be here to keep the cop in front of me in check.

He’s probably checking to make sure the cop staring me down doesn’t need back up. I may be big at six feet with 215 pounds of solid muscle but he should see by my school uniform that I’m not some thug out to cause problems. And as soon as he checks my ID, he’ll realize I’m not some troublemaking hoodlum either.

“You need some assistance, Ferguson?” the new arrival asks.

“Yeah.” The officer unlocks me from his death glare and turns his head. “This belligerent, spoiled little shit was just arguing with me, and I think I’m going to haul his ass down to the jail to teach him a lesson.”

Arguing ? Maybe it’s better for him not to know my last name. If he already thinks I’m spoiled, then as soon as he sees I’m Lloyd Bricker’s son, the man who owns half the commercial real estate in this town, he’s going to be even more pissed. “I’m sorry, sir. I wasn’t…” The punch across my cheek comes out of nowhere and nearly takes me down. I fall back against my car, pain radiating up my jawline and into my brain.

“You keep talking back, and I’ll knock your fucking teeth out.”

I’m beginning to think I’m dealing with a disgruntled officer. One who must be jealous of the fact that I’m a trust-fund kid. He probably assumes I live off my daddy’s credit card and don’t have an appreciative bone in my body like some of the other kids I know. He’s probably pissed that he has to risk his life day in and day out, barely making enough to retire on, while I technically will never have to work a day in my life if I don’t want to. I plan on making my own way for myself, but this guy doesn’t know that.

I expect the other officer to tell Ferguson to rein it in, but instead, he steps up with a snarl on his face, looking at me like I’m the lowest of all the criminal scum.

“I think we need to teach pretty boy a lesson on manners, Ferguson. What do you think?”

The smirk on his face has my stomach sinking. I’m outnumbered. Not only that, but they both have guns and I have nothing. If I fight back, they’ll shoot me. Claim self defense. But maybe if I take my beating like a good soldier and drop to the ground quietly, they’ll let me go. Then as soon as I get home, I’ll call the best attorney in the state, we’ll subpoena the dash cam footage, and all will be handled in court. These two dirty cops will get sentenced and I’ll be getting their retirement funds.

“Good fucking plan,” Ferguson agrees, and suddenly I’m taken down by an extreme pain electrocuting my insides. My knees hit the ground and then it’s all a blur. Everything becomes numb to the pain before it all goes black.