I’m manacled to my hospital bed.
I barely have time to process that when I catch sight of my other arm. My pitching arm. It’s encased in a thick white cast.
Fuck.
The door swings open. A doctor steps into the room. She looks around nervously as two police officers follow her in, pushing her glasses farther up the bridge of her nose.
“Archer, I’m Dr. Taggerty. I was the resident on call this morning when they brought you in. It’s a relief to see your eyes open.”
“What’s going on?” I rasp. My voice comes out like sandpaper. “What happened?”
“You were in an accident,” she tells me kindly. “Do you remember? Your truck flipped over several times at an intersection in Beverly.”
“I remember that. I meant…” I inhale sharply as pain shoots through my chest. “What happened to my parents?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know. They weren’t brought in with you.” She glances at the policemen, brows raised. “I’m sure the gentlemen behind me will be able to offer more insight on that front.”
One of the officers steps forward. He’s middle aged, with sandy brown hair and the beginnings of a beer belly. His light green eyes are cold as they glare into mine. “I’m Officer Belkin. That’s Minkoff.” He jerks his head toward his partner — a few years younger and a few pounds lighter, but wearing the same inhospitable expression. “Your parents are at the station for questioning. We were able to extract them from the house where they were being held without injury. They’re cooperating fully.”
Relief floods me.
They’re alive.
“And my brother?”
“We haven’t been able to track Jaxon down yet. But it’s only a matter of time.”
“What about the men who were holding my parents? They’re members of the Latin Kings. They’ve been threatening us for months.”
“Look, I’m afraid we can’t talk to you about any pertinent details of the case until we know the extent of your involvement, Reyes. Active investigation and all.”
“Myinvolvement?”
Belkin nods. “If you’d like to answer some of our questions—”
“No,” the doctor says flatly. “No questions until he’s had a full examination. I want to make sure we’re completely out of the woods. He has some internal bleeding we’re watching closely. And he’s still dazed from the general anesthesia.”
“Fine.” Belkin sighs. “We’ll come back tomorrow.”
“Are the handcuffs really necessary?” Dr. Taggerty shoots me a look of sympathy. “He’s just a kid.”
“He’s eighteen,” Minkoff says. “And he was caught in possession of enough fentanyl to OD every addict north of Boston.”
“What?” The word explodes from my mouth. “That’s insane!”
“So you deny the drugs were yours.”
“Hell yes I deny it,” I growl.
“Then how do you explain how they got into your truck?”
My mind spins, seeking out any possible explanation. I can only come up with one.
Jaxon.
He must’ve stashed his supply in my truck when he came home the other day.
God.