When the cop with the handcuffs spoke with that smug, triumphant swagger, the color drained from Johann’s face. “Me? It wasn’t me.” “That Porsche.” The cop pointed at the Porsche Johann had parked. “Okay, yes, that’s my car! But how is that illegal street racing? I was stopping that Starlight from causing an even bigger accident after he started picking a fight! Why would I race on a public road? I’m Johann Hayward, you know?” “For now, you’re coming with us. We also got a report about drug use.”