If I did this correctly, you shouldn't have to go back read the prologue in order to follow. However if you feel like getting a back story, feel free.
Much gratitude for the feedback. Even the not so positive ones. I'm hoping the issues have been addressed but you can be the judge of that.
I've split it into time frames to make it more manageable. Hope you enjoy.
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Wednesday 03 39hrs
"You sure that's her?"
Connor nodded with a deadpan expression. "Yep. That's her alright."
There had got to be better reasons for being up past witching hours.
He was still in pyjamas. He was also in a police station, half way across town. And with their air-conditioning virtually non-existent, it was nothing short of freezing.
The man in uniform walked up to the jail cell. He braced a forearm against the bars and stared at its occupant. "She's very pretty and all, I'll admit that much. But I doubt she's your type."
Connor chuckled briefly. "And just what do you know about my type?"
"If I had to guess, I'd say they like cars," he replied nonchalantly, and sounding rather sure of himself too. "They like stripping them down and selling the auto parts on the aftermarket. And if they can, they'll get their younger, mechanically gifted boy toys to disassemble the components for them."
The boy shrugged even though the officer couldn't see him. "What can I say? I was young and had a poor sense of judgement. Sue me."
At first glance you wouldn't believe it but he and Richard had quite a history. Not the best one either. Then again, warming up to the person who put you in a juvenile detention facility can be asking too much of a teenager. Even more so when that same person makes regular appearances there as a volunteer counsellor.
Back then, Connor found the whole thing hypocritical. You're either trying to lock criminals up, or you're trying to keep them out of prison. Not both.
In time, he understood and the two eventually came to respect each other. Even to the extent where Richard often called him in for piece jobs, allowing him to run light maintenance on their patrol cars.
It was his way of showing him that spare change could still be earned without resorting to unprincipled means. But today, it wasn't Richard who dialled his number.
The jingle of keys was heard before the grill was unlocked and slid open. Inside, a brunette lay on an immovable bench. Her trademark pigtails were splayed all over her head and ran over the edge of her makeshift bed.
The batter of a button stick against stainless steel roused her from her sleep. "Up and at'em Miss Yamato. Your ride home's here."
The policeman didn't wait for her to gather her wits. Instead he tapped Connor on the shoulder and started down the corridor. "You know your way out. And a word to the wise; She tends to be a little feisty when she wakes up. Good luck."
Luka sat up slowly and wiped the sleep from her eyes. So this is what she looked like when she got up first thing in the morning. The little demoness was so absurdly cute right then. She yawned and he felt his heart fawn over her.
In another life, Connor would have simply scooped her up into his arms and walked off with her, letting her continue her nap.
He then mentally slapped himself, irritated with how quickly he was willing to forgive her all the nonsense she'd put him through this past week.
He frowned watching her get up to unsteady feet. She was a mess. Her hair ran rampant, the torn jeans she wore was missing its top button and a strap of her top hung over a slightly bruised shoulder. Just what had she been up to these last few hours?
He waited for her to approach. Each step taken was made with delicate care. It confirmed his suspicions from when they spoke over the phone. The girl was wasted.
Her feet came to a stop in front of his. "Cute pyjamas." A teasing smile played along her lips as sleepy blue eyes locked onto his brown ones.
"It's cold," he answered indignantly. "And the last thing I expect at 3 am, is a call telling me to haul ass over to the other side of town." He took off his jacket and wrapped it tightly around her shoulders. His features softened. The mock annoyance was replaced by worry. "You look like shit."
Luka let herself go and fell into him with a sigh. "Don't judge me."
His arms encircled her and held her warmly against him. A comfortable groan left her lips, making him hug her even tighter. "What got into you Luka?"
There was silence before she spoke into his chest. "I wanted to go home."
"Oh, that I understand," he replied rubbing her back. "I just don't get what business you thought you had in the driver's seat, when you could barely even walk."
"I just wanted to get home," she repeated, balling the front pocket his top into her fist.
Connor sighed. For someone with her level of calm, she sure had heavy destructive tendencies.
He pat her back before prying her hand off and started guiding her down the passageway. Her balance was completely off and her eyes were shut, trusting him to know where they were going.
Most of these cells they passed were vacant. Nothing like the movies where they made an exaggerated show of notorious looking criminals threatening to have you for dinner.
No. Most of the people here were probably guilty of similar crimes as that of his ward.
He looked back at the girl and couldn't help the look of sympathy that befell him. "So who did this to you?" he ventured.
Chances were she wasn't in the mood for a chat. He didn't know for sure. This was his first time seeing her drunk after all.
"Who did what?"
"All of... this." He gestured to her body in general with a free hand. "You look like you've barely survived a streaking through a football changing room."
Even in her dazed state, she still managed a spiteful giggle. "A whore's wet dream come true, huh? How befitting of me."
His eyes narrowed. "I didn't call you a whore Luka."
"You thought it," she replied without having to think about it. Her eyes opened briefly to regard him. "That's why you keep giving me that look isn't it? You pity me like I'm some lost cause."
He returned her once over. "What's there to pity? You have it made with your room service, that yellow Porsche and platinum debit card." He focused back on the exit ahead. "Maybe that's the real problem. You can actually afford to screw up."
"Money's a problem now?" The girl sounded amused. "From the sound of things, I'd say you're jealous."
"Only a little. I can't say I regret being down to earth."
"I'm insulted," she said elbowing him in the side.
"It's the truth. Do you even know how much bread and milk costs?"
There was a pause on her end. "Well..."
"Or perhaps you could tell me how much you spent tonight?"
He didn't expect her to bother with a reply there. Simple math became quadratic equations when you were high. Unless you really needed the change that is.
Connor shook his head. "Chances are you won't even know how much your bail was after this," he finished under his breath.
She heard him nonetheless. "I will be paying you back every cent. In fact, I would have paid the fee myself if..."
"... They accepted bank cards?" he interrupted. It earned him a death glare. He only chuckled which served to irritate her more.
"You know Connor, I didn't pick which side of the fence I was raised on," she remarked. "So if you expect me to apologise for being well off then maybe you're the one in need of a reality check."
He arched a brow. "It's not your status I condone, it's your lack of responsibility. Namely over yourself." Came the reply. "You have this mind-set that ABC's are irrelevant to you. Like there'll always be someone to mind life on your behalf."
"Well yeah. Isn't that what you're there for?" Her archaic smile was back, almost as if she knew something he didn't. "In all honesty, I think you should consider yourself lucky. It's because of 'irresponsible' people like me that you even have a job."
An incredulous expression drew itself across his features. Was she even hearing herself? No wait. That
was
why he was here wasn't it? This is what he'd been reduced to. Her personal butler. The thought alone was enough to make him cringe.
"Tell me." She taunted. "How much are they paying you to look after me?"
His look was replaced by one of exasperation. She was baiting him. It had become common practise these last few days. Like she had found this sadistic pleasure in pushing his buttons every chance she got. He wasn't helping his situation either with the way he kept blindly walking into her kill zone.
"Know what? Let's just forget I said anything."
She however had different plans. "Let's not actually," Luka escaped the comfort of his support and with the little orientation she had left, her feet trekked backwards in front of him.
Her hands rose expectantly and his fingers intertwined with hers in response. "I personally would like to know how much I'm worth."
Connor's only response was to stare at her with a poker face on.
"Fifty a day? A hundred?" She continued when he'd made it clear there was no reply coming from his end. "Five hundred?"
He still held his tongue. A part of him told him that if it was her business knowing, then someone with the authority would have informed her already.
Their hands were still tightly clasped as they approached the reception area. The brunette stumbled here and there but he managed to be both hers and his own centre of balance with apparent ease.
"A thousand maybe? A grand point five?" Her eyes widened a bit in shocked amusement. "No it's more than that isn't it?"
She was shooting in the dark so if he was to wait until she guessed high enough, then this game could go on forever.
He decided it best to respond. "What's your concern?" He asked, doing a good job of completely avoiding the question. "I mean if there's anything you've made clear, it's that you don't hold money to any value worth speaking of."
