Their Private Investigator

Chapter 3-Part 1

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Tyra Blake

"Miss Blake! Where do you think you're going?" Her voice travelled through the car park, bouncing off all the cars until it hit me.

And even though I knew she wouldn't take silence for an answer, I ignored her and carried on walking.

"Blake." She shouted again, but this time by her tone finalising that she would not be giving me another chance.

"We came in my car. So we leave in my car. Where do you think you're going?!" She growled, exasperated at my ignorance, catching up to me and yanking me to a stop.

"I'm not going with you." I stared clearly, not looking at her but anywhere but.

"Of course you are. You decided not to listen in France. You are coming with me Miss Blake." She demanded.

"I'm not. Unless you're going to arrest me, I'll be on my way." I said again, giving her a few seconds and then walking away.

But she called out again.

"Miss Blake, you do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say will be given in evidence." She spoke coldly, grabbing ahold of my wrists and clasping the metal around them.

"For what exactly?"

"Questioning, you'll see at the station." She said, leading me off in the direction of the car we came in. "Travis, we need to go to the station. Now."

"You can't do this. You've arrested me for no reason, you can't arrest me for questioning, it's meant to be that I can walk in by my own will." I explained.

"Miss Blake, I'm the lead officer of my task force, I know exactly what I'm doing and why I'm doing it. You're a threat to me and my family, you can't expect me to take that lightly." She growled once we had got in the car, well, once she had got in and dragged me in with her.

"And how am I a threat?"

"There's no need to play dumb with me or the officers at the station. We know much more than you believe we do. At least I do anyway. Whether you go to prison or not is my call. Your future lies in my hands Miss Blake." She said.

"What do you know?" I asked.

"We know exactly who you are, we know why you are who your are, and we know what you're doing. You better hope that what we've been told is wrong, because if it's not you'll be in the shit, deep in it." She replied.

"You like games don't you. You always seem to dodge around what you actually want to say. Why not just say it?" I stressed to her.

"Because, Miss Blake, I am a police officer and a princess. Everything I say gets examined, flipped and changed, everyone does it. You're no different."

"And how would you know that? That I'm no different. You don't know me princess, and you would benefit not to." I warned.

"Look, Tyra, anything you say to me will be bought back up in court if it get's that far. I'd be very careful how you word things, because what you just said could be interpreted as a threat."

"Depends on how you take it, it could also be a valuable warning. You can't blame me if I've warned you beforehand." I sneered at her.

She pulled harshly on the cuffs, bringing us incredibly close, causing them to dig deep in a wound that was already sore.

"Don't get too comfortable Miss Blake, just this morning you were in my bed, in my house. You gave me plenty of time to go through your stuff. If you dare bring up anything in that interview room, I'll bring up your sister. I'm sure there's a bigger picture to what happened. Your sister told me her side at least, now I just need yours." She threatened.

"And you believe her?" I whispered, not looking away from her intense gaze that was a mere few centimetres away from me.

"Well is it true?" She asked.

"What?"

"That you killed her boyfriend." She whispered, deadly.

It was the family kept secret. The most dangerous, the most valuable and definitely the most violent. It was something none of us had bought up since the night it had happened, and it was sworn to be kept that way. I'm sure mum and dad wouldn't appreciate it if their golden child had spread something that could destroy their good fortune and name.

I looked away from her gaze, moving towards the door. She hummed at my response and then got out the car once we had come to a stop.

The door opened on my side and I was pulled out, but not by her, by the one who I had punched. Lucky me. I looked around for her, but she was nowhere to be seen. I was pulled through the emergency doors at the back of the building, dragged down some stairs and then thrown in a little room with a table, two chairs and a light. No windows, just four solid concrete walls. This was not on the records. This was not a formal interview, and this was not the way things were supposed to go.