C.A.K.E

"Do you have any other piercings or tattoos, ma'am?" The female intake officer holds open an envelope for Arden to place her jewelry into it.

"No," she replies as she removes her earrings. The brilliant diamonds encircling her left ring finger are the last to go. She slips the rings off her hand, having to give the precious metal a little tug.

The officer waves a metal detector wand along Ardi's body. When the device reaches her waist, it goes crazy. The woman's expression sours.

"You sure you don't have any piercings or weapons hidden on you?" She eyeballs Ardi when she assures her that she's not concealing any weapons or belly piercings underneath her cotton skirt. "Lying to me is only going to make this harder on you."

Arden takes a breath before explaining why she'll set off every metal detector within a hundred-mile radius.

"I have metal implants in my hip and both knees, along with titanium rods in my left femur and tibia. There are also several pins in my right leg and ankle."

She pauses to let the woman take in what she said. Her expression still seems skeptical.

"If you check my wallet, there is a card in there that will verify everything." Arden shifts her weight to her other foot and glances up at the ceiling. "Or if you'd prefer, I can show you the scars."

The woman frowns at Arden before reaching for the handbag. She watches the officer locate the small piece of plastic that indicates Ardi is indeed a bionic woman. After a cursory scan of the card, the woman places it back into the wallet and continues the standard booking procedure.

The officer rifles through Arden's belongings, spreading the contents of her purse onto a worn counter. She documents and bags every item that might be considered contraband. When she pulls a bottle of painkillers from its depths, she glances up at Ardi.

"I have a script for those," Arden says in an almost whisper.

"Then you won't mind if we check with your doctor."

"Whatever you need to do, officer." She sighs. The beginning of a headache is scratching at her delicate composure.

A light frisking, a urine sample, and a few mugshots later, Arden is sitting with her right handcuffed to a bank of rickety plastic chairs. It's the middle of the day on a Wednesday. There are only three other people in the open area of the intake room.

If it were the weekend, an endless parade of the drunken and disorderly would be punctuating the relative silence. Good thing Melinda sprung her trap sooner rather than later.

Arden tries to keep her eyes trained on the floor, attempting to distract herself by counting the dents and scratches in the speckled white tile. But she can't shake the feeling that someone else's eyes are on her.

She angles her head to the side, examining her surroundings in her peripheral. A female desk clerk is staring at Ardi like she stole her man. The woman doesn't look familiar. But that has never stopped anyone in this town from developing an uninformed opinion about who Arden is.

Lillian's death and Warren's campaign thrust Ardi into a blaring spotlight that was equipped with a high-powered microscope. Before she could get a handle on a solid opinion of herself, the whole city had written an identity for her.

Five minutes before the accident, Arden wouldn't have minded the attention. She was a great student, star athlete, and Olympic hopeful. Her talents deserved recognition.

But after that day, she was the girl who had survived the gruesome crash on the Southside. Then she was Senator Warren Mitchell's daughter. No one knew Arden―not in a real sense. Everyone knew what they read about her. But very few people bothered to go beyond that.

Arden doesn't know what this woman may have heard that's sticking in her craw. But whatever it might be, is her own damn problem. There isn't space in her mind at the moment for any more jealous women.

She looks up and catches the woman glaring at her. Her first instinct is to roll her eyes. Then she reconsiders. Conjuring up her sweetest smile, Ardi grins at the woman until she looks down at her desk.

Little Miss Attitude goes back to her work, allowing Arden to concentrate on calming her fried nerves. Her mind wanders to Elliott. Then guilt creeps up from her gut and settles into the seat beside her.

Just as the feeling of Casper's lips flashes into her conscious thoughts, her husband comes through the door. Guilt is replaced by a rage that threatens to consume her.

Elliott is escorted into the processing area by two officers. He begins struggling in their grip when he spots her.

"Arden, darling. I am so sorry." Eli shakes his guards and rushes over to her. He bends to kiss her, widening his stance to steady himself. Both of his hands are cuffed in front of him. But he ignores his bindings long enough to caress her cheek.

"This isn't your fault." Ardi grasps his hand with her free one and shakes her head. She grits her teeth as the words escape her mouth. "Do not apologize for her."

"Okay, that's enough." One of the officers admonishes Eli, attempting to separate the two. After some effort, their hands are pried apart. "Let's go."

"Elliott, we'll get out of this." She calls after him as he is all but dragged down the hallway. Biting her lip to fend off the tears building in her eyes, she waits until he's out of sight to release a low agitated grunt.

When she turns her head, she finds that once again the female desk clerk's gaze has fallen upon her. This time the woman doesn't look away, and neither does Arden exercise her infallible southern manners.

Glaring back at the woman, she fires off a rhetorical question. "The fuck are you looking at?"

The officer sucks her teeth and shuffles a stack of papers. Then she picks up the landline and relays something to the person on the other end in a hushed tone.

A few minutes later, a rather tall gentleman emerges from the back offices and makes his way over to Arden. The man spends what seems like an eternity towering over her before speaking.

"Mrs. Stone?" She glances up at him. He pulls a key from his pocket and undoes the end of the handcuffs that are attached to the seat. Taking hold of her elbow, he helps her stand.

Choosing now to introduce himself, he fastens her hands behind her back again. "I'm Captain Lane. There are a few questions I need to ask you. Is that all right?"

She nods and Captain Lane escorts her to an interrogation room with nothing but a wooden table and two more hard plastic chairs. The instant she steps into the room claustrophobia hits her. Tight quarters have never bothered her, but being stuck in this one with a member of law enforcement has awakened her inner neurotic.

He seats her in the one farthest from the door and then removes the cuffs from her hands. Lane discards the handcuffs on the table along with the key.

Thankful to be free of her restraints for the moment, Arden begins rubbing her wrists. It no longer feels so much like the walls are closing in on her. As that feeling subsides, Arden takes the opportunity to study Captain Lane while he unbuttons his suit jacket and takes the seat across from her.

Met with a pair of deep brown eyes, she tries to discern whether or not he's an agent of the dark side.

His headful of salt and pepper hair and matching trimmed goatee might suggest he'd be more at home seated by a fireplace wearing a mohair sweater with a cigar perched between his lips. There are probably a couple of grandkids somewhere that he should be waiting for in a carpool line, not playing good cop/bad cop with her in this sparse room.

Unable to determine the presence of any bias from his stoic expression, Arden waits for him to break the suffocating silence. She takes a deep breath. Though her insides are more muddled than the Alabama dirt after a heavy rain, she's determined to maintain a placid demeanor.

"Mrs. Stone, I'm going to be straight with you." He produces a manila envelope that's been tucked underneath his arm and lays it on the table between them. Then he pushes it aside. "We found drug paraphernalia in your home. But your drug test is clean."

He leans back in his chair and scratches at the neat hairs on his chin, keeping his focus on her the entire time. Arden does her best not to squirm. But his eyes seem to be boring into her. Her innermost thoughts aren't expecting company, so he needs to take that penetrating stare elsewhere.

"You look like a woman who's never so much as ingested a poppy seed ..." he muses. "Something doesn't quite equate."

Ya damn skippy something doesn't equate.

He may have some sense after all, though nothing in his static demeanor has given her a concrete reason to believe so. Lane regards her with the same disinterested look on his face.

Ardi decides that it's best for him to pose a direct question to her before she volunteers anything. At this point, words are precious ammunition that should be used with careful measure.

Plenty of people have gone down for stupid shit because they couldn't keep their mouths shut. Her effortless poise has given her a safeguard against any mindless rambling.

"Arden." Lane rests his elbows on the table and sighs. "I don't know who you've pissed off, but someone has it out for you." He grabs the envelope and pulls out a few sheets of paper along with a couple of photos. "And unfortunately some of the officers at this precinct have fed into the farce."

Thank God at least one person hasn't been snowed by Melinda's storm of lies. The tense tide of emotions crashing up against the shores of her weathered mental state begins to recede, taking with it the bear of a migraine that's been rampaging through her head.

of paper to her across the table. At first, Arden just glances down at the document, reluctant to surrender the piercing

transcript of the call that was made to Child Protective Services. She reads over the page, her eyes burning with every falsified word about her and Eli's life

aren't even particular about their drug of choice. Everything from homegrown meth to high-end cocaine and prescription pills is mentioned in the laundry list of illegal

an allusion to a bustling drug trade that uses Arden's place of business as its

outrageous. Melinda claims that Ardi starves Rowan and Teagan, forcing them to work all hours at her bakery

Her hand trembles as she slides the paper to the officer. "This entire thing has been instigated

to himself and spreads the pictures before her.

downstairs bath and a plastic baggie of a white substance that was wedged between the sofa cushions. "Her boyfriend must have hidden

raises his hands to halt her speech. "For someone who is supposed to be running a large-scale drug smuggling operation, there was very little evidence of anything of that

into the envelope, he interlocks his fingers

to know is why

there's someone

woman has done to me is key my car, or lace my shampoo with a depilatory. None of them has gone to the trouble of falsifying evidence to

could understand Melinda's warped mind, I'm sure I'd be the next Nobel Prize winner." Arden wraps her arms tight

him along with a shake of his head. But the smirk is short-lived. He recovers

these allegations could be true?" he asks, staring Arden dead in her

shrink from his scrutiny. "Elliott and I would never jeopardize the safety

in contemplative silence, seeming to be wrestling

handcuffs her wrists again. The action

officers might have jumped the gun on this one. If this has indeed been a misunderstanding, you have my apologies, Mrs. Stone." Before he

of the room and down the narrow hallway.

from the less-than-favorable atmosphere of the rest of the precinct, her senses take in the stark surroundings. It's no Four Seasons. But at least she doesn't have to worry about any other offenders or fighting for

prayer. With her sanctified moment out of the

the brick wall, she works out the logistics of her murder plot. Her

to start seeing that hack therapist again. If I talk crazy enough, maybe I can swing a diagnosis of bipolar or dissociative identity disorder. Whichever one will make that temporary insanity defense

New York, round trip. Elliott can't know. If I make up something about a wedding convention, that might work. I'll need a boning knife, couple pairs of leather gloves, a few plastic tarps, garbage

click, interrupting her homicidal

lowered. Almost twenty years have passed, and she still recognizes his voice. Its slow drawl rakes across her

roaming over her body. Wishing she could shed her skin or scrub it clean off her bones, she meets the smug

Gavin Taylor.

before her as good-looking as ever. But Arden

are well aware." She takes notice of the shining badge at his waist. "Didn't realize

smell of his cologne repulses her. The cloying scent stings at her nose, inducing a feeling of nausea. Ardi positions her body as far away

that smart mouth of yours hasn't missed a beat." Gavin skims his finger along her cheek, making her

the door for him to dig deeper into her business. There's enough on her plate without the addition of another crazy ex.

now. Elliott get you started on that shit?" He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. She

in her to keep that retort to herself. Her silence just seems to fuel

up. Not him though. He's a dog

traces his hand along

draped over her skin. Arden jerks

only reason you're not sitting in a cell with the other junkies and prostitutes is because of me." He snickers and gives her a sidelong glare. "A thank you

that right?" She narrows her eyes at

is." He licks his lips and puts his hand back on her knee. "So you might want to skip your usual

his offending touch. Instead, she just glances down at his hand, before looking up into his light

her voice down to its darker boudoir tone, she leans in to whisper in his ear. "Put your hands on me again ... I'll

on her lips. The way she's feeling at the

baby." Gavin lets his hands get familiar with her skin for another second or two, then smiles at her. "Besides, we both know you like

big difference between rough and violent, Gavin." Arden cuts her eyes at him. If looks

"According

the totality of the

body tenses in anticipation. That demented gleam still shimmers in his cat eyes. A cold shiver inches down her spine.

like playing Russian roulette with a faulty machine gun. It could go either of two ways, you squeeze the trigger and nothing happens, or you're obliterated. A middle ground

she set eyes on Gavin. And

The two met through mutual friends when

life became about physical therapy and learning to cope with her mother's death. The constant doctor visits

just fine with that. Her misery didn't need any company other than a

enough. And her sitting at home was getting old. So she agreed to go out with him. He turned on the charm, and his spell

have picnics in the park or go to the movies. Hazel-eyes even wrote her poetry. It wasn't Shakespeare. But

romantic interest she'd had before him was an unrequited crush her freshman year. Being Warren Mitchell's daughter didn't have many suitors lining up at her door even before his

of the state for several generations. Arden's paternal great-grandfather found enormous success in Birmingham's once-booming iron industry for which the city earned the moniker of "The Magic City." From there the Mitchells invested

wireless and landline phone services as subsidiaries. In short, Arden's family has been making money in

most, but Gavin didn't seem to be the least bit bothered that Arden had a father who was well-connected and very protective of his daughter. That lack

down the wall Ardi had built between herself and the rest of the world. Not even the psychiatrist Warren had suggested she

but Gavin knew

They would talk until dark bloomed into dawn. He was the one person who knew the reason Arden began refusing to take her pain medication, or why she couldn't look

when she couldn't

up to be the perfect husband. She might have even loved him had he given her the time to figure out what she was feeling. The loss of her mother was still fresh, made even more difficult by the subsequent trial of the drunk driver who turned her world upside down. All he

goodnight because he didn't take her straight home after their date. Instead, he stopped in a secluded area not

few minutes of trying to coax Arden into giving him what he wanted, he decided that he was going to take it. He forced her into the backseat of his '84 Corolla and tried to tear off

that she wouldn't have time to realize what was happening until it was too late. But what Gavin didn't count on was that even

nose and left him bleeding in the middle of the darkened field as she drove herself home in his car.

took one look at his daughter's ripped clothing and bruised skin before he was tearing

man and gave him a year of probation. His record was expunged on his eighteenth birthday, hence his presence

puts his lips to her neck, inhaling her soft

backward on the bench. Arden twists away from him to gather her momentum and rams her

wrists, making the unyielding metal of the handcuffs cut into her skin. But the blood beginning to trickle from his nose makes the pain bearable. She gets to her feet, staying on her toes as she watches for his

cold. The bastard smiles at her,

your ass." She smirks at him. "But I'll still give you a refresher

her. "I'm the one running the show

their time apart

to fit in the occasional swim or bike ride on the weekends. But it's nothing like her old training regime, or even the rigorous physical therapy routine she endured

to make sure he doesn't walk out of here unscathed. If she can help it, he won't

other, neither saying a word. Then Gavin rushes toward her, wrapping his fingers around her neck. He presses her against

off her feet and claps against the tile floor. Her head begins to pound as pressure accumulates in her brain, its connection with the rest of her body being

of your little tricks now, Ardi." He gets closer to her face, seeming to relish her inability to

words seem muffled to her. Sight and sound are beginning to abandon their posts as her body screams for its air supply. Starting to feel lightheaded, she forces herself to stay cognizant enough to figure some way out of his grasp.

he offers her some leeway. He presses his lips to hers, attempting to shove his tongue down her throat. She bites down as hard as she

tactic does the trick. Gavin releases her, once