TLC Shots

C.A.J. Part 3

(11:59 PM Sunday, Thorne's House)

Remember when Thorne said nothing could bring his day down? That everything was going so well for him and he was having the time of his life.

Well, he couldn't have been more wrong.

After hiding all of the tools of his trade back in their proper places and concealing the entrance to his arsenal, he spotted the flashing red and blue lights. At exactly midnight, the sound of a battering ram breaking down wood rang through his house. The force shook the house, and the cracking ran from the door up Thorne's spine.

In pure anger, Thorne yelled, "THAT IS MAHOGANY!!!"

The police on the other side of the door didn't seem to care. They broke the door in half and a swarm of officers rushed into Thorne's house. Before Thorne could register what was going on, someone had him pinned to the ground. Half a dozen red dots wavered over his body.

"Search the house," an extremely burly man ordered. "Find the necklace. Tear the house apart if you have to." The man gave Thorne a cold stare. "Detective Benoit, would you like to do the honors?" he handed her a pair of handcuffs from his belt.

"With pleasure," the person pinning him down said. Cuffing his hands behind his back, the female detective hoisted him to his feet and forced him to move out of his door. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, and if you don't have one, one will be provided for you."

"What the hell is the meaning of this?!" Thorne retorted. "You need a warrant to bust in here!You can't just break my door down for no good reason!"

"No good reason, huh?" the woman snapped. She clearly had a French accent, and it showed. But Thorne wasn't about to make fun of the way the detective holding him spoke. "You were seen in the Clay house during a break in. You drove off and evaded police for several hours before coming here. You have been a suspect in dozens of other crimes across the globe. And best of all, we do have a warrant."

The burly man held up a slip of paper. After Thorne identified it as a true warrant – not a forgery like the last guy tried to use on him – the detective tucked the paper back under his bullet proof vest.

Okay, Thorne knew he was a dangerous guy. He could take someone out if he wanted to, and if someone payed him well enough. But seriously? Bullet proof vests? It's not like he'd strapped half of his arsenal to his chest and threatened to take all of the cops down with him. Then again, they didn't know that.

Even more so, they had no idea about his arsenal. They didn't know it existed. And if he played his cards right, if he didn't tip them off about the entrance, it was unlikely they would even find out it existed.

And they would never find the necklace, because it was inside the arsenal.

Thorne put up no resistance as they dragged him out to their Squad Car and threw him in. Literally, the redhead was strong enough to practically toss him into the car. She locked the door behind him and got into the passenger's seat. The beefy guy got in the driver's seat. Thorne snickered. Seeing a huge man squeezing to fit in such a small space to drive a car he was almost the size of.

Yeah, it was a sight to see. And Thorne's light cackle earned him a smash to the metal grate separating him from the cops. The redhead must have been touchy about her partner.

Or ... Thorne had second thoughts about classifying them as just "partners" in the sense of police work. Their mannerisms as they drove and how they worked together, it gave off the impression that the two were more than just work partners.