Sherry, a frequent flyer around these parts, asks while lounging on the bottom bunk.
She’s in for slashing her husband’s tires. Again. He has a bad habit of sticking his dick in women who aren’t his wife. And Sherry is just crazy enough to destroy the only thing he actually loves, his big, red souped-up truck. I support it.
“Sorry Sherr, not on me.” I unfold my arms and show her my open palms. “They took everything I had on hand when I was booked.”
She shrugs and returns to eating her bologna sandwich.
I’m not a smoker, unless I’ve had a few drinks, and then I dabble. It’s not the sexiest habit, but I don’t really give a shit what the male gaze deems attractive. Most have proven they’ll fuck anything with a hole, anyway.
As my fingers rub together, coincidentally craving the comfort of a cigarette, the electronic beep of our jail cell chimes and the door swings open.
When I notice who it is, I lock my arms over my chest and cross my legs, not bothering to look up and give Dominic the satisfaction of my attention.
After our incredibly silent drive to the county detention center, Dominic passed me off to another deputy without so much as a glance back. I didn’t think I’d see him again until some unfortunate run-in in town.
But now he’s here.
I may not be looking at him, but that doesn’t mean I’m not taking in every detail through my periphery. He’s practically under a spotlight with the harsh fluorescents shining down on him.
I guess the saying about a man in uniform is true—he wears it really well. Annoyingly well.He had to have gotten it tailored because no one else’s fits as snug as his does—tight on his biceps, stretching taut across his broad chest, every ridge of his chiseled abdomen on full display. Tattoos litter his corded, muscular arms, some I recognize and some I don’t. A pang hits my sternum, the unfamiliar tattoos a stark reminder that we don’t know each other anymore.
He catches the corner of my gaze and, in return, gives me a subtle yet appreciative once-over. My skin warms under his stare, completely beyond my control.
Had I known I’d be spending my afternoon in jail, I probably would’ve chosen something slightly less revealing. The thin black slip dress paired with a blazer does little to hide my legs, given how short the hem is and how high the slit sits.Quickly, I jerk my head away, desperate to regain some composure. This is exactly why we can’t be around each other—our chemistry is combustible enough to ignite with the slightest spark.
“There was an initial bail set on your warrant. Lucky for you, someone paid it.”I can hear his smile—know exactly how it curves on one side first. I hate that I still remember that.
I was expecting him to tell me I could make a phone call, not that I could leave.
The relief I should feel to be getting out of this cesspool of piss, is dimmed by the uneasy rolling of my stomach. If my bail was paid, that means Dominic called someone, and I’m not sure I want to find out who.
My forehead creases as I begrudgingly face him. “Who posted it? Don’t tell me you called?—“
“Elyse Meredith Ledger.”
I close my eyes, a shudder running through me at the familiar voice in that familiar tone I thought I’d outgrown.
I'm going to kill him.
He couldn't have called one of my brothers—Gavin, Ethan, or even Shane? God knows they all owe me at least a favor or two.
A tall frame fills the doorway, his expression unreadable. Great. It’s like my high school graduation night all over again, yet somehow more embarrassing.
I stand, squaring my shoulders. I’m not going to whither like a child. “Hi, Dad.”
I highly doubt civilians are allowed in this part of the county jail, but rules have never really applied to Jack Ledger. Not because he demands special treatment, but because he’s so highly regarded, he may as well be the mayor.
My dad is trying his best to give me his stern, disappointed look but his lips keep tugging upward like he wants to laugh. I wasn’t quite expectingthatreaction.
At least someone finds this funny.
“Really, Elyse? Skipping out on jury duty, of all things?”
“I never received a summons,” I defend.
He shakes his head, more amused than upset. He’s gone soft in his older age. I’m also nearly thirty—far too old to be scolded. Yet that same surge of teenage dread, like I’m about to be grounded, still grips me the same.
I give Sherry a wave and join my dad on the other side of the jail cell—the free side.
