“There you go,” the cop urged. “Just keep moving. Right. Just like that. Good man. Just like that.”
The instant Jake crossed the threshold, he was gang-tackled by three SWAT team types: the two he’d seen flanking their boss, and a third who’d escaped his notice altogether. They took him down hard, first to his knees, then face-first into the carpet, driving the breath from his lungs. From the other room, Mae screamed again. Someone put a knee on his face to keep him from moving, while the others bent his arms until the backs of his wrists touched behind him.
Jake didn’t fight. Arrest was a given at this point. The only true variable now was the number of bruises he’d sustain in the process. He felt the ring of the handcuffs against his skin and winced in anticipation of the pain he knew was next. They didn’t let him down, ratcheting the bracelets tight.
“Stay put,” somebody told him.
No problem, Jake thought. As he lay on the brand-new maroon carpet-not yet four months old-the acid stench of the fibers irritated his nose. He fought back the urge to sneeze and tried to make the pieces fit in his mind.
We’ve been so careful.
A pair of black combat boots appeared in front of his face, obliterating any other view. “You Jake Brighton?”
Jake strained to look up at the lady cop who’d threatened to shoot him only a minute before. “Yeah. Who are you?”
“I’m Special Agent Rivers with the FBI. We’re here to search your premises for illegal contraband.” She’d stooped down to display the warrant, but Jake stared right through it.
His mind reeled. What the hell…
“And you are under arrest for assaulting federal officers.”
Oh, this wasn’t right at all. He craned his neck to get a better look at his captor, then abandoned the effort. “You mind if I sit up?”
A hand around Jake’s biceps helped to bring him to his feet and over to a visitors’ chair in the waiting room. Jake couldn’t believe the number of cops who continued to swarm into his shop. There had to be fifty of them, split evenly between FBI and DEA, with a few locals thrown in. The place seethed with activity. Beyond the heavy fire door at the other end of the waiting room, he could hear the feds rousting the body men and painters out in the shop.