Chapter 156 - The highness Princess (1) (1/2)

Translator: Lionwwang  Editor: Lionwwang

The police officer names Jeff calls another police car to come. From this car’s arrival time, I can judge that it’s a premeditated action. Because soon after he calls, the car has arrived. It was apparently prepared to be nearby in advance.

He deliberately let Silo and two other brothers get in the new arrived police car, and then let me get in his SUV.

Obviously, he wants to separate me from them.

My hands are handcuffed behind my back, and I don’t know if it’s legal for him to handcuff me? Silo is not around, and I don’t know the laws here.

I sit in the back row after I get on the SUV. Jeff is sitting next to me. The two companions in front are apparently his subordinates.

“Smok?” He takes out a box of cigarettes from his pocket.

I look at him coldly: “Isn’t smoking not allowed in public?”

He doesn’t speak, just lights one, then motion to me. I pick my eyebrows.

He sees that I don’t mean to refuse, then puts the lighted cigarette in my mouth, and then he lights another one for himself.

“When did you get off the ship?” He seems to ask at will.

“Are you taking a confession, Officer?” I’m sneering, taking a deep puff. A mouthful of green smoke is slowly spraying out to him.

“Just a casual chat.” Jeff is shrugging his shoulders indifferently.

“Sorry, I won’t answer any questions in the absence of a lawyer.”

Jeff is laughing, with a little weird smile.

“Listen, boy!” There is a cold look in his eyes, “I know you’re Eight Finger’s man. You don’t know what happened recently? Don’t think the police are so easy to be fooled! Lawyer? You talk to me about the lawyer? Hum…” He stretches out his right hand and patting my face. There’s a fierce smell in his eyes: “Did you come here by stowaway? Ship or plane? Don’t think Vancouver is so easy to play around!”

I say nothing, eyes are looking at him clearly and coldly.

Jeff is a little annoyed by my stare. He lowers his voice and says: “I tell you, as long as I want. I can call the immigration office anytime, and then you will be sent back home!” He hums, “I only need very few information! When on earth did you come? How many people? Where are those people now?”

I’m laughing, just smoking and stop talking.

“Don’t think Eight Figer can cover you up. Vancouver is not his world! Canada is not your world either!”

Then he begins to tempt me: “You give me the information and I can help you change your identity. I can even help you get the permanent residence right; help you become a legitimate citizen here! I can even let the police protect you! If you like money, police will give you a big bonus!”

I’m waiting for him to finish quietly, without speaking or interrupting him. Until he stops, I just say: “Have you done?”

“…” Jeff and I are looking at each other for a long time. He’s suddenly laughing. The fierce and threatening expression on his face convergs, then showing a gentle smile. He slowly takes out a mini recording-instrument from his pocket, turns it off and throws it to the front row.