“Of course.” The sound of squeaking told me he’d finally stopped pacing and had taken a seat in his office chair. “Make sure you eat well. If I see you haven’t been, I’ll hire you a cook like I’ve been threatening. Your papa wouldn’t argue with me about that.”
I laughed. “Bye, Dad.”
“Bye, Laney. Don’t forget to call tonight. Your papa has been worried sick.”
I snorted. Papa worried about everything, but Dad was far worse. “Yes, Dad. Talk later.”
Ending the call, I dropped the phone on the floor beside me and closed my eyes. A few hours’ sleep wouldn’t hurt, and maybe I could call Ross when I woke up, too.
3
Ross
The small roomdidn’t give me much space to pace with the potted plants, brown leather couch, and armchair stuffed into it, along with the standard desk, but I gave it a good try anyway. On one of my circuits of the miniscule walkway, I stopped to glare at a painting of a bowl of fruit. Officer Paxton had told me this was the station shrink’s office when he’d uncuffed and dumped me here instead of a holding cell. Why he had been so kind, I didn’t know, and I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. As I stared at the painting some more, I had to wonder if it said something about me that I thought the pair of cherries hanging over the side of the fruit bowl kind of looked like balls.
Probably. Probably said I was a sick, sex-addicted fuck.
Oh, goddamn it.
I went back to wearing a hole in the floor.
There was some laughter in the hallway and I scowled that direction. Outside the door a couple of cops stood around bullshitting loud enough that I could guess they were retelling arresting me,yet again. Their job was to keep me in here, no doubt, and they were having too good a time doing it.
What the hell were they doing toStormy? Officer Paxton hadn’t mentioned him, and after enduring the media circus coming into the station, I hadn’t thought to ask before I was dumped in here. The thought of that tasty man in a jail cell had my stomach churning. He was too pretty for prison bars, and my twisted brain dredged up all sorts of scenarios, mainly involving him with an orange jumpsuit around his ankles… and if I was truthful, more than half of them featured me cuffed and helpless for him. I sucked in a deep breath and groaned.
Great fucking time to discover a newthingthat did it for me.
Fuck, but realistically I wouldn’t be in there alone with him, even if we were sharing a cell, and I was worried. I forced my focus toward the real world and away from the parade of saucy—and sausage-filled—images in my head.
Then, there was Vane.
Yes, thinking about Vane was a cold bath on my dick daydreams. My cock retreated to hang out near my boys as I conjured visions of his incensed reaction to this mess. He would strangle me with his bare hands the next time he saw me. I sent a sly glance at the phone sitting on the desk in the corner of the room, not for the first time, and clenched my hands into fists. No one had told me I couldn’t use it.
With a glance at the door, I went over, sat down behind the desk, and then picked up the handset. There was a helpful sticker on the phone that said to press 9 to call out, and that’s what I did. My finger hurt because I stabbed the numbers too hard while dialing Vane’s office phone. I couldn’t remember his cell, and they’d taken mine when they booked me in.
He didn’t answer. Because why would he? City hall was in meltdown. I needed Jean-Paul’s desk number.
Groaning, I dialed the only other number I had memorized—Mark’s cell phone. My heartbadumpedso fast I thought I might throw it up onto the dancing-flamingo stationery parked in the middle of the desk. A pair of red cat’s-eye glasses had been carelessly dropped beside the phone, and I folded them and set them aside just to give my hands something to do.
The call was picked up, and there was loud sniffling that made me feel like a steaming pile of horse shit. “Hello, this is Mark.”
“It’s me.” I waited… one… two… three…. I got all the way to ten with my silent counting. There was no yelling. No cursing me out for ruining his career. Nothing. “Mark? You there? I… I know you warned me.” There was a quiet sob, and I hung my head.Fuck’s sake, I made him fucking cry.“It’s okay, Mark.”
“Ross. Are you in jail?” he all but shrieked, and I winced.
I ignored that question. “You need to do me a favor and go to my office. You have to shred a few things. A pile of things.” I glanced toward the door and cupped my hand over the phone. “There’s a list taped to the underside of my desk. Go fast. Shred the list, too. Get rid of the shredded paper. I don’t care if you have to start a bonfire in the parking lot.”
“What? I… uh, sir, but—”
“Now. I have no idea whether or not they’ll flip my office, and there are things that aren’t their business.”
“Sir, I tried to make sure this didn’t happen,” Mark said sternly.
“Mark, now is not the time.” I dropped my head to the desk—hard—and winced as he babbled out an apology for shit that was all my fault. I couldn’t understand most of what he said because he was crying again. If he would just bitch me out, this might be better, but my guilt only grew until it seemed like it might choke me any second. “It’s okay,” I said, and then there was an indignant grunt on his end, and Mark was yelling at someone, but I couldn’t make out the words.
“How are you?” Jaxson’s much calmer voice was exactly what I needed to hear. I perked up and sat straighter with a smile.
“Not sure? They crammed me in an office instead of a cell, so could be worse.”
