"I told you three times," Derek replied. "You were too busy dreaming up a bust to listen."
Lawson instinctively glanced toward his chest harness. Derek caught the gesture immediately. "Don't worry, Officer Lawson. My dash audio and your partner's body camera recorded every single word."
Mitchell’s face tightened into a pale mask. "This doesn't change the traffic violation. You were speeding."
"I was cruising at sixty-eight in a seventy zone," Derek corrected.
"You crossed the fog line."
"Once, when your cruiser accelerated up my rear bumper with your headlights turned off for over half a mile."
Lawson turned to Mitchell in disbelief. "Cole... you ran up on him dark?"
Mitchell ignored him, panic rising in his chest. But before he could fabricate another excuse, dark headlights cut through the gloom behind them. Three unmarked black Ford Explorers roared off the entrance ramp, pulling into tight formation across the shoulder, cutting off any exit.
The doors swung open simultaneously. Special Agent Rachel Monroe stepped into the rain, flanked by four tactical agents in heavy vests. She walked straight up to the driver's side of the Lamborghini, her eyes darting from Mitchell's flashlight to the cracked window, and finally to Officer Mitchell’s pale, sweat-slicked face.