I rolledto my side on the hard bench in the small jail cell downtown. I had never been to jail before, and as I stood over the woman in the bar, I couldn’t exactly say I regretted my actions.
But as I tried and failed to get comfortable on this hard bench, while simultaneously doing my best not to vomit, I was regretting every second of it.
“I’m so calling off work tomorrow,” Cheyenne groaned.
“I wish I could. Wyatt might fire me after all the time I’ve taken off.”
“He gave you that time willingly,” she reminded me.
“Yes, but getting in a bar fight probably isn’t a good excuse to miss work.”
“No, but being detained is a perfectly plausible explanation. It’s not like you can choose to leave whenever you want,” she reminded me.
Not that it made any difference. I was stuck here, and if I didn’t show up to work, Wyatt would be pissed. No excuse would be good enough.
The outer door to the cells opened, and a grinning Maverick strode through.
“Are you sure you want to break these ladies out? They might benefit from a night in jail.”
The man from the bar stepped forward, but his face was masked by darkness, making it impossible to see who he was.
Frankly, I was too drunk a few hours ago—and too enraged—to get a good look at him.
But as he stepped into the light, there was something very familiar about him. He was tall. Like, way taller than Liam, and Liam was over six feet. Not to mention, he had muscles on top of muscles and that kind of look on his face that said he not only got into trouble a lot, but he enjoyed it.
Though, there was a hint of a smirk in there somewhere.
“You,” I said, almost accusingly.
“Archer.”
Archer. The name sounded familiar, but?—
“Wait, I know you! Junior year?—”
“Senior year, actually.”
“You were only here for like six months, and you kept getting into trouble, until you finally got expelled for…”
“For nearly putting another kid in a coma,” Cheyenne finished for me. “Holy shit.” She leaned over, lowering his voice. “Can I take him home?”
I smacked her arm, still reeling from the man in front of me. “Why are you here for us?”
“Did you want me to leave?”
I shook my head, but no words came out.
“Call it a favor for a friend.”
I thought I remembered him saying something like that last night, but the words were jumbled with alcohol and bad choices.
“Well, if you can vouch for these ladies and get them home, I’ll let them out. Otherwise, they can stay the night on these hard benches and think of…more creative ways to let loose at the end of the night.”
“We wouldn’t have had to let loose if Liam wasn’t such a douchebag,” Cheyenne muttered.
I elbowed her, begging her to keep her mouth shut so we could get the hell out of here.
“While I think a night in the slammer might do them some good, they both look like they’ve learned their lesson.”
