Kill Switch by Penelope Douglas

What was happening?
More grunting, gravel kicked up under their feet, and I
knew they had their hands on him.
“Stop!” I yelled, my hands sliding down the hood of the
car to the open trunk as I reached them. “He would never do
drugs. What are you doing?”
I heard heavy breathing I assumed was Ethan’s as the
chilly evening air stung my nose.
“We’ve got at least fifteen baggies here,” a cop said.
“That’s intent to distribute,” added the other.
Intent to distribute. Two possible felony charges? My head
was reeling.
“You son of a—” Ethan growled but was cut off and shut
up.
“Wait!” I burst out. “Please stop. This is my fault.”
This was all a setup. There was no way he had drugs in his
trunk. These cops stopped us for a reason, and it wasn’t a
busted taillight.
I stepped closer, careful of my footing. “I called him,” I
said, taking the blame. “What do you want me to do? Just
please… Please don’t do anything to him.”
There was silence for a few moments, and then I heard
some clicks. Someone was on their phone.
“Sir?” one of the cops said. “I have her here.”
Damon. This was him. He was who the cop was calling.
A cool hand touched mine, and I jerked, pausing when I
realized the officer had put the phone in my hand. My fear and
confusion slipped away, replaced with anger. I breathed hard,
seething as I clenched my teeth.
I raised the phone to my ear.
“I’m very disappointed you actually thought this would
work,” a hard voice said. “Although I am surprised you even
got out of the house.”