Harlow grunted, before wiggling a bit and reaching into his jeans pocket to pull out the small notebook he’d taken from the priest. He tossed it to Oceana, who caught it. “He was writing in this. Private details of Foxx and other patients. Ask him about the names crossed out.”
They nodded and Harlow waved them away. When they were gone, he snagged his phone off the wheeled tray that had at one point held last night’s meal and checked the time. It was almost 7am.
Based on them apparently not caring what their patient’s food schedule was…they’d probably be serving breakfast soon. Harlow supposed he should wake Foxx up. Not to mention, he should call Tony to tell him what the fuck was going on. Or should he call Charity… She was his handler and was supposed to ‘handle’ shit. The woman would probably yell at him for calling Tony instead of her when shit hit the fan in the first place.
Whatever, calling Tony when things went south was sort of a habit he had never broken out of. Besides, why bother talking to a middle man—or in this case, woman—when he could directly talk to the person in charge?
* * *
Iggy cluckedhis tongue as he walked beside Oceana towards the entrance of the police station. “Did you know him?”
She frowned. “Know who?”
“The vampire?”
Oceana scoffed. “We don’t all know each other.”
“Snippy as always.” He chuckled. “Hmm, Foxx. He was pretty cute.”
“And obviously sleeping with his human partner.”
“Mmm, yes, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t available.”
She sighed. “How did he, in any way, look available while lying in a bed, wrapped in another man’s arms?”
“Well, Harlow doesn’t do relationships. The man’s a psycho. No doubt they are just fuck buddies, which means he is free game.”
“Sure, go for it. Maybe I’ll get lucky and you’ll get shot,” Oceana said with a sweet smile, as she pushed the door open and walked into the station.
Iggy chuckled and followed her inside. He seriously doubted Harlow would care who fucked Foxx. The man didn’t get attached to people or things.
Together they approached the front desk. The woman behind it looked up when they reached her.
He pulled out his badge and held it up. “We are here to interrogate Father Donovan Malton. If you would be so kind as to get someone to fetch him from his cell and set us up in an interrogation room, we’d appreciate it.”
The woman at the desk frowned. “I’m afraid he is no longer here.”
“What?!” Iggy snapped.
Foxx took a bite of bacon and grimaced. The food before him was truly a modern marvel…ugh. How does one manage to undercook, yet still burn bacon? He tossed it onto his tray and picked up the piece of toast to nibble on. It was burnt too…but was somewhat edible.
He eyed Harlow. The human was sitting next to his bed in a chair, slowly drinking his sugarless, cream-less, coffee of death. The man let out a hum of satisfaction as he took another sip.
Foxx narrowed his eyes. “Good?”
The human grunted in response.
“Can’t say the same for the food.” He sighed, tossing the toast down.
Harlow went to say something, but his phone started ringing. The tone was generic, so he knew it was someone other than Charity—who had called earlier to bitch Harlow out for not calling her and letting her know what happened. Foxx smirked at the thought, as the human set his coffee down on the tray, stood up, and answered the call while walking out of the room.
Foxx could have still heard the conversation if he wanted, but he didn’t feel like it. He figured if it was something pertaining to him, Harlow would tell him. Foxx was honestly too tired, and in too much pain, to be nosey at the moment.
“What do you mean he’s gone?!” Harlow bellowed.
So much for not listening…
Moments later, Harlow stormed back into the room, face looking like he wanted to kill someone. Which would have done something for Foxx, if he wasn’t in pain.
