The King I Can't Arrest

Chapter 5

Desrianna

"Wanna stop for some coffee before I drop you off?" Dustin asks, starting the engine of his cruiser.

"Sure," I reply, exhaustion creeping into my voice.

It's nearly nine in the morning now.

We've been at the club for hours.

After finishing the statements from Onyx's crew, I combed through every inch of the men's restroom looking for evidence.

I found absolutely nothing.

No blood.

No weapon.

No sign that Onyx Robinson had been in there covering his tracks.

Which means he couldn't have shot Javon.

At least not directly.

And something tells me he's not the type to get his hands dirty if he doesn't have to.

The problem is we can't prove it.

Conveniently, every camera inside and outside the club was down five minutes before the shooting... and didn't come back online until after.

The only thing I managed to see was Onyx walking out of the bathroom.

Hands empty.

Expression cold as ice.

Moving with that same casual saunter that nothing in the world could touch him.

There's no doubt about it.

He's exactly like his f*****g brother.

The only difference?

He hasn't been caught yet.

But I won't stop until he's behind bars.

"What are the chances that Onyx was in Virginia Beach tonight?" Dustin says, sounding like a teenage girl gushing over Justin Bieber.

I cut him a sideways scowl.

"You sound real excited about that."

He shrugs, easing the cruiser into traffic.

"Didn't recognize him at first, but I know who he is. I listen to his stuff sometimes. Dude's huge right now."

"Good for him," I mutter. "Still doesn't change the fact that he was standing ten feet away from a murder."

Dustin glances over at me before turning his attention back to the road.

"You really think he had somethin' to do with it?" he asks.

I cross my arms, staring out the passenger window as we drive past the last of the patrol cars outside Platinum Allure.

"I think he knows more than he's saying."

Dustin exhales through his nose.

"Or maybe he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

I snort humorlessly. "Yeah, I highly doubt that."

I bet that's exactly what he wants people to think.

That murder's above him or some s**t.

But he can't fool me.

Dustin's eyes flicker in my direction again.

"You got something against the guy or what?"

My mouth snaps shut.

Dustin knows what happened to Antron.

Everybody in the precinct does.

But considering Onyx and his brother have different last names, you'd have to dig a little deeper to connect the two.

And I'd rather that didn't happen.

The last thing I need is more people in my business.

"Nah," I say a little too quickly. "His story just doesn't make sense."

Dustin hums under his breath like he's not at all convinced.

"Well, so far we don't have much to go on. We did our part. Now it's on the detectives to sort it out and track down whoever pulled the trigger."

Unfortunately, he's right... and I hate it.

Once we turn in everything we learned, it's on to the next call.

The next problem.

The next person in this city that needs help.

After grabbing coffee at a small shop a few blocks away from the precinct, Dustin drives me home.

The quiet of my neighborhood feels strange after the chaos at the club.

Morning's fully settled in now.

A few neighbors are already outside—walking dogs, checking their mail, starting their day like everything is all peaches and cream.

My cruiser sits in the driveway right next to my Range Rover.

"Try to get some sleep before your next shift, aight?" Dustin says.

I let out a tired breath as I reach for the door handle.

"Yeah. You too."

There's more I could say.

Like how what happened between us last night isn't happening again.

But I'm too worn out to get into that conversation now.

I'm just gonna start mentally grieving the good d**k I'll never have again.

I step out and shut the passenger door behind me.

By the time I reach my driveway, Dustin's already pulling away, his cruiser disappearing down the street.

I circle around my patrol car, giving it a quick once over.

No scratches.

No broken windows.

Everything looks the way I left it.

Good.

I've got more security cameras around this house than most people would ever need, but old habits die hard.

You can't be careless in this job.

Not when plenty of people out there hate cops.

And being a woman doesn't exactly help.

Some folks see that as an easy target.

By the time I reach the front door, the exhaustion from the night finally starts settling into my bones.

I unlock it and step inside.

The door creaks softly behind me.

My hand stays on my holster as I move through the house, flipping on lights and sweeping each room.

Just in case a motherfucker decides to try me today.

"Prince," I call out, realizing I haven't spotted him yet.

An annoyed meow answers from somewhere deeper in the house.

Prince is a black cat I rescued two years ago.

I still remember the call.

He was just wandering down the middle of a busy street like he didn't have a single f**k to give.

Didn't even flinch when traffic whipped past him.

He even had a whole attitude when I snatched his little ass up before he got flattened by a truck.

We've been stuck with each other ever since.

I walk into the kitchen and pull a can of tuna from the cabinet.

The second I peel back the lid, Prince comes sauntering into the room like he doesn't care that I'm home—just that the food finally showed up.

"Missed you too, asshole," I mutter, dumping the fish onto a plate and setting it on the floor in front of him.

Prince immediately drops his face into the tuna like he hasn't eaten in days.

Typical.

I lean back against the kitchen counter, taking a slow sip of my coffee while he devours his breakfast.

The house is quiet.

Peaceful.

Exactly what I need after the chaos at the club.

Just when I start to feel settled again, Onyx Robinson's face flashes through my mind.

Those sharp features.

The calm confidence in his amber eyes—like he owns every room he walks into.

And that stupidly attractive smirk that probably has half the women in this city tripping over themselves to get his attention.

I scowl into my coffee.

Yeah.

That'll never be me.

I don't do criminals.

Badge or no badge.

Prince finishes the last bite of tuna and looks up at me expectantly.

"Don't even think about it," I tell him. "That's all you're getting."

He blinks slowly like he's deeply disappointed in my life decisions.

So am I, buddy.

So am I.

I sigh and push away from the counter.

A shower and a few hours of sleep sound like f*****g heaven right now.

Just as I start down the hallway toward the bathroom, my phone vibrates on the counter.

I freeze.

For a second, I consider ignoring it.

My shift's over.

Whatever it is can wait.

But instinct wins.

It always does.

I walk back and pick up the phone.

Unknown number.

Fantastic.

I stare at the screen for a moment before answering.

"Banks."

There's silence.

Then a man's voice comes through the line.

Low.

Rough.

Like somebody trying real hard to sound like Darth Vader.

"You the cop dealin' with Young Vonn's murder?"

My spine straightens instantly.

Young Vonn.

Javon's stage name.

"Yes," I reply carefully. "Who's this?"

There's another pause.

Then—

"Don't worry about that."

My grip tightens around the phone.

The case has already been handed over to homicide, yet whoever this is chose to call me.

Maybe I should just direct them to Detective Mason.

"If you've got information about the shooting, you should contact-"

He cuts me off.

"I ain't call you to help."

His voice hardens.

"I called to tell you to back the f**k off."

My jaw clenches.

"That's not going to happen. A man was murdered. It's going to be investigated."

A low chuckle vibrates through the speaker.

Not amused.

More like he thinks I'm stupid.

"You pigs are all the same," he says. "Keep stickin' your snout where it don't belong and you might end up dead next."

The words land heavy in the otherwise quiet room.

My pulse kicks up.

Blood pounds in my ears.

"You threatening a police officer?" I ask, forcing my voice to stay steady.

He laughs again.

Darker this time.

"Nah," he drawls. "Just givin' you advice."

Silence stretches between us.

Then his voice drops even lower.

"Y'all keep diggin' into this... he'll come for you next, Desrianna Banks."

The line goes dead.

I stare at the phone in my hand, a chill crawling up my spine.

Because whoever that was...

he wasn't bluffing.

And somehow...

He knew exactly who I was.

My name.

My number.

And the fact that I was the one asking questions this morning.

Which leaves only one person I can think of.

He knows my name.

I gave him my number.

And if that asshole thinks he can scare me into backing off...

he just made the biggest mistake of his life.

I'm going to make sure his ass ends up in prison right alongside his brother.