Free Sweet Abduction by Sasha Gold

conversations with the police over the years? I’m not sure, but talking my way out of stuff is even easier now that I’m famous for something other than theft and arson.
    But Miranda has plenty of connections, with the police and elsewhere, and I’m not sure what she’s told them. On top of that Leah might have said something unhelpful.
    “What did you tell them?” I ask.
    “That we’re married and that I came here of my own free will.”
    “Perfect.”
    “I was worried I’d get you into trouble.”
    Sweet girl. I set her up and stole her and she’s worried about getting me into trouble. Leah doesn’t know the first thing about getting mad and staying mad.
    “But they still want to talk to you. They started asking me about Mikhail Vronsky. I don’t even know who that is but they told me that’s who you’re fighting and they said that he’s been accused of taking performance-enhancing drugs and they said he killed a sparring partner and that’s when I excused myself because I started to feel sick and I wanted you to talk to them since this is sort of, well, actually entirely, your fault.”
    “His sparring partner is on life support. He didn’t kill him.”
    “He died a half hour ago.”
    “Huh.”
    Her eyes widen and she tries to smack my shoulder but I swat her hand away. It’s instinct.
    “What do you mean by huh?” she demands.
    We walk up to the side entrance and I open the door for her. It’s a service entrance and leads us into the kitchen. The cook is making lunch and she hands me a shake as I pass through. I take a swallow of the concoction Ivan makes me drink three times a day. The fucker. That’s one part of training I won’t miss.
    Leah is still looking at me in horror for being so indifferent to someone’s death.
    I shrug. “He took every drug he could get his hands on. He was blacking out. But he kept at it. The guy was told to quit fighting by his neurologist.”
    “Pfft. Neurologists. Don’t get me started. I think all of you fighters should quit. It’s bad for your brain to get smacked around. Haven’t you heard the reports?”
    “I have. But I don’t ever get smacked around. My longest match was forty-five seconds and he landed one hit to my arm.” I stroke my jaw. “I have a pretty face and I need to keep it that way. That’s what gets me the endorsement deals.”
    She waves her hand dismissively. “Whatever.”
    We round the corner to the den. The two policemen stand in the middle of the room and their eyes get big when they see me. Their smiles go wide. Just as I imagined. They want to talk to me about the fight. They could give a shit about the innocent woman I abducted.
    “Gentlemen, thank you for looking in on my bride. Nothing is more important to me than her well-being.”
    They’re both young and fresh-faced like they got out of the police academy two minutes ago. They act like I’m a rock star or something.
    One just stares and the other grins like a fool. “Oh wow. This is so cool.”
    Leah starts rambling again. She really needs to learn a few things about keeping her cool.
    “He was just training,” she blurts out and adds an inelegant hiccup. “But I wanted to bring him up here to talk to you, so he could explain things. And tell you things.”
    I smile at her and marvel at how completely clueless she is. Her expression is one hundred percent guilt ridden. To make it worse, right in the middle of her babbling, she hiccups a second time.
    I chat with them for a few moments, trying to ignore her nervous antics which is about as simple as ignoring a fucking elephant strolling through the room. I talk about the fight and send them on their way with a promise of four front row tickets.
    After they’re gone, Leah settles her heated gaze on me. “They were way easier on you than me, but I didn’t have any tickets to wave under their nose.”
    “Front row tickets,” I say. Fuck she’s adorable when she’s riled.
    “Ah, yes. Front row tickets.”