Chapter 129 Arrest
Two Days Earlier - Third Person POV
Gavin set the note down on the table. Reached into his pocket. Pulled out his cigarettes and lighter. Lit one with steady hands. Took a long drag.
He took another drag, letting the smoke curl around him, savoring the brief moment of calm before…
The door to the penthouse burst open.
Not with a polite knock. Not with any warning at all.
It slammed inward hard enough to hit the wall with a crack that echoed through the space.
Men poured in like a flood. A dozen at minimum. All wearing tactical gear. FBI vests in bold letters across their chests. Weapons drawn and pointed.
An army.
Diana had sent an entire army.
Gavin didn’t move. He just stood there with his cigarette, watching them fill his living room with all the chaos and drama of a raid on a drug cartel.
For a man accused of murder who was currently standing alone and unarmed in his own home.
Overkill, really.
The lead agent stepped forward. He looked young, maybe thirty at most. His weapon was trained on Gavin but his hands weren’t quite steady. There was a tremor. It wasn’t much.
But Gavin saw it.
“Gavin Cross,” the agent said. His voice tried to be authoritative. Commanding. It came out strained. Uncertain. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Senator Richard Morrison.”
Gavin took another drag of his cigarette. Said nothing.
“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law…”
The agent continued through the Miranda rights. His voice gained a bit more confidence as he recited the familiar script.
Gavin barely listened. He was watching the other agents instead. Reading their body language. The way they held their weapons…grips too tight, fingers hovering too close to triggers. The way their eyes kept darting to each other. Looking for support. For reassurance that this was going according to plan.
They were terrified. Every single one of them.
These weren’t hardened professionals used to apprehending dangerous criminals. These were young agents who’d drawn the short straw. Who’d been sent to arrest Gavin Cross and were trying very hard not to show how much the assignment scared them.
Poor bastards probably spent the drive over rehearsing what they’d say. How they’d handle it if he resisted.
When the lead agent finished reading the rights, he pulled out handcuffs.
Took a step toward Gavin then stopped.
Sweat was beading on his forehead now. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.
The handcuffs trembled in his grip.
“Mr. Cross,” he said. All pretense of authority had evaporated from his voice. “Sir. I… we need to… could you please…”
He couldn’t finish the sentence.
The words just died in his throat as he stood there, frozen, staring at the man he was supposed to be arresting.
Gavin took one last drag of his cigarette. Crushed it out in the crystal ashtray on the side table.
Then he looked at the agent. Held his eyes with the kind of steady, unblinking gaze that made grown men squirm.
The agent squirmed.
“What’s your name?” Gavin asked. His voice was quiet. Almost gentle.
Which somehow made it worse.
“A-Agent Miller, sir.”
“Agent Miller.” Gavin said the name slowly. Letting it hang in the air between them. “Are you planning to handcuff me?”
“I… yes, sir. That’s… that’s protocol for…”
“I see.” Gavin held out his wrists. Offered them up. “Then do it.”
Agent Miller stared at the handcuffs in his hands like they’d suddenly transformed into live grenades.
His mouth opened. Closed. It opened again.
“Sir, I…” He swallowed so hard it was audible. “Please. We just need you to come with us. Voluntarily. We don’t need to… the handcuffs aren’t necessary if you…”
He trailed off miserably.
Behind him, the other agents shifted uncomfortably. None of them moved to help their colleague. None of them wanted to be the one to put handcuffs on Gavin Cross.
“You’re arresting me for murder,” Gavin said. His tone was still conversational. Pleasant, even. “And you’re afraid to put handcuffs on me.”
Agent Miller’s face went from pale to completely white.
“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t… I mean… we just…” He looked back desperately at his colleagues.
They all suddenly found the ceiling fascinating.
“Please,” Miller continued, his voice cracking slightly. “Could you just… Come with us? Without the… without…”
He couldn’t even say the word ‘handcuffs’ anymore.
Gavin watched him struggle for another moment. Then he spoke.
“Put the handcuffs away, Agent Miller.”
“Sir?”
“I’ll come with you. Voluntarily. No cuffs necessary.” Gavin straightened his jacket with casual precision. “But if you try to put those on me, we’re going to have a problem. Understood?”
Miller nodded so fast and so hard his entire body moved with the motion. “Yes, sir. Understood, sir. Thank you, sir.”
The handcuffs disappeared back into his pocket like they’d burned him.
Gavin walked toward the door.
The sea of tactical agents parted immediately. Like Moses parting the Red Sea. Like subjects making way for their king.
Not like law enforcement apprehending a murder suspect.
Agent Miller scrambled to follow, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste.
“This way, Mr. Cross. We have vehicles waiting downstairs.”
“I know the way, Agent Miller.”
“Of course, sir. I just… we need to… I mean…”
“Relax,” Gavin said without looking at him. “I’m cooperating. You’re doing fine.”
The relief that washed over Agent Miller’s face was almost comical.
They took the elevator down. Gavin stood in the center. Surrounded by a dozen armed FBI agents who looked less like an arrest team and more like a protective security detail.
None of them would meet his eyes.
The elevator descended in complete silence except for the soft mechanical hum.
When the doors opened to the lobby, chaos erupted.
More agents. Police officers. Security personnel. And through the glass front doors, news cameras were already setting up on the sidewalk outside. Reporters jockeying for position.
Someone had tipped off the media.
Of course they had.
That was part of Diana’s plan. Make this as public as possible. Maximum exposure. Maximum damage to his reputation.
Gavin kept his expression neutral as he walked through the lobby.
It wouldn’t matter in the long run.
But it would make excellent television.
Outside, the scene was even more elaborate. Black SUVs lined the entire street. Very dramatic.
And standing beside the lead SUV, exactly where Gavin knew he would be, was Kane.
Their eyes met across the chaos.
Kane nodded once.
Gavin returned the gesture.
Agent Miller moved to open the door of one of the FBI vehicles. “Mr. Cross, if you could please…”
“I have my own transportation,” Gavin said.
Miller’s face fell. “Sir, that’s not… we need to transport you in our vehicle. It’s protocol.”
“Kane,” Gavin called out without looking away from the agent. “Am I being arrested or am I coming voluntarily?”
“Voluntarily, sir,” Kane replied smoothly from across the street. His voice carried clearly despite the noise. “The warrant specifies voluntary surrender for questioning. Not compulsory arrest.”
Agent Miller’s face went through several shades of pale in rapid succession.
“That’s… technically correct, but…”
“Then I’ll take my own vehicle. You’re welcome to follow if you’d like.”
Gavin walked toward Kane’s Mercedes. The agents started to move. To block his path. To assert some control over the situation.
Kane stepped forward.
Six feet of calm, lethal competence standing between Gavin and anyone who might have ideas about stopping him.
The agents stopped moving.
Kane opened the rear door of the Mercedes with the smooth efficiency of someone who’d done it a thousand times.
Gavin slid inside.
A different agent approached…older than Miller, more senior, with gray at his temples and the look of someone who’d been doing this job for decades.
“Mr. Cross,” he said, his voice tight with barely controlled frustration. “We really must insist…”
“You’re welcome to follow us,” Kane said pleasantly. He closed Gavin’s door with a soft click.
The senior agent looked like he wanted to argue. Looked at the dozen other agents who were all watching this unfold. Looked at Gavin sitting calmly in the back of the Mercedes like he was heading to a business meeting instead of an interrogation.
His jaw clenched so hard his teeth were probably grinding.
“Fine,” he said through that clenched jaw. “We’ll escort you.”
“How kind,” Kane replied.
He walked around to the driver’s side with measured steps.
A young agent…different from Miller, but just as nervous…approached him. “Sir, you should… um… you need to enter the federal vehicle, not…”
Kane looked at him.
The agent took a step back. Then another.
“Right. Sorry. Never mind.” He practically ran back to his colleagues.
Kane’s lips curved into a smirk.
Then he slid into the driver’s seat like nothing unusual had just happened.
“Evening, sir,” he said, meeting Gavin’s eyes in the rearview mirror.
“Kane.”
“Comfortable ride to your arrest?”
“Adequate.”
Kane started the engine. The sound was a low, expensive purr.
The FBI vehicles scrambled to form an escort around them. SUVs pulling into position ahead and behind. Creating a motorcade.
It looked less like Gavin was being arrested and more like he was receiving a police escort befitting visiting royalty.
Which, in a way, he was.
They pulled away from the curb. The motorcade moved as one unit through the New York streets.
Diana had made her move.
Now it was his turn.
And she was about to learn a very important lesson about what happened when you went to war with Gavin Cross.
You lost.
Every single time.