Natasha:You haven’t noticed that half the Hunks give me the cold shoulder? Jacek won’t even talk to me.
A sick feeling twists in my gut because I have noticed, but I’d thought it was because the others were growing tired of her drama.
I need answers. And right here is where I’ll get them.
I enter the police station and approach the front window where a woman with graying hair is seated. A nameplate on the desk says her name is Rose.
“I’d like to post Samantha Weston’s bail.”
Rose sighs. “No need. No charges are being pressed.”
“Then where is she? What’s happening to her?”
“She’s waiting for her ride.”
My brow furrows because what she’s saying doesn’t make sense.
“Can I speak with her?”
She looks over at a man sitting behind a desk, typing away at his computer.
“Bernie, can he see that hotel pickup?”
He glares at me. “Is he her pimp?”
“Not the prostitute,” Rose yells. “The credit card theft.”
“Oh, that one. Sure, bring him in.”
I follow Rose into what looks like an interrogation room. It’s small, gray, with a table in the center.
Samantha is seated at the table, her mascara smeared across her face.
Even disheveled, she’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.
“Tox?” she says, looking up at me with sad eyes.
I turn to Rose. “Could we have some privacy?”
“You okay being in here alone with him?” Rose asks Samantha.
Samantha gives a weak nod. “Yeah.”
Once the door closes, I sit across from Samantha, whose face is red from devastation.
“Hey,” I whisper. “You okay?”
“I’ll live.”
“What happened?”
Her eyes fall to the table. “It was my dad.”
My initial reaction is to feel sympathy, but an intrusive thought takes hold.
Sometimes, you have to face things head-on.
“Was it really him?”
