Cole whistled. “That’s dickish even by Marcus’s standards.”
“Right? So if he’s got the real one like you say, then if he gets caught with it, he’s probably going to use those documents to saythatone is fake.”
Cole seemed to chew on that. “Then quietly sell the real one to Jacques-Louis, who is smart enough to sit on it long enough that no one will connect it to what happened last night, and…” He sighed. “Fucking hell. I hate it when he’s actuallysmart.”
“I know, right?” Jansen shifted in his chair, wincing when he jostled his arm. “Anyway, that’s all I know.” He paused. “Assuming he didn’t lie about that, too.”
Cole grunted. He of all people had to have considered that by this point. Everyone knew Marcus was a lying liar who lied, and a thieving scumbag even by thieving scumbag standards. Jansenhad always been curious how Cole and Marcus hadn’t killed each other while they were dating. Did two insufferable twatwaffles really get along that well? Did they calm each other down like sodium and chlorine ions? Or had it been World War Dickbag the whole time?
He was curious, but he didn’t care enough to ask.
And anyway, right then, the door swung open. To Jansen’s great relief, a pair of EMTs walked in with the guards. The first zeroed right in on Jansen’s arm. Her eyes widened with horror, and she whirled on the guards.
“What the actual fuck is wrong with you people?” she snarled. “How could you not get him medical attention? My God, this man could have compartment syndrome by now!”
Compartment syndrome? The fuck was that?
The other EMT crouched beside Jansen. “Let me have a look at that.”
He did, and it hurt. It fucking hurt like a motherfucker. Fuuuck.
About the time the guy stopped prodding at it like the sadistic butthole he was, the other medic had stopped screaming at the shell-shocked guards. As Jansen forced his eyes open and blinked past the tears, the woman leaned over to peer at his arm.
And Cole?
He was gone.
CHAPTER 6
Jacques-Louis Campeau. It just had to be Jacques-fucking-Louis goddamned Campeau, didn’t it?
Cole swore under his breath on the way out of the police station. The conversation with Jansen had gone surprisingly well, all things considered. The broken arm had been an unexpected bonus and a bargaining chip; Cole had been prepared to charm the cops out of the room, threaten and badger Jansen, and work all the usual magic he did whenever he slid into a lawyer persona.
The broken arm had just made all that ten times easier, which was probably the universe’s way of making up for the bullshit he’d learned from Jansen.
And to make the day even better, Will was still waiting for him in the car. He had hoped for a hot minute that his unfortunate sidekick would see something shiny, go wandering after it, and get lost down a random side street, leaving Cole to hunt down their ex in peace.
No such luck.
As he dropped into the driver seat, he glared at Will, then started the engine.
Will let him drive for half a block or so before asking, “Well?”
“Well, what?”
The irritated sigh soothed Cole’s pissy mood a little. “Well, did you get anything out of Jansen?” He paused. “Wait, you didn’t beat him up, did you?”
“What? Why? What makes you think I beat him up?”
“Because an ambulance pulled up a few minutes ago. The timing is… suspicious.”
Cole just grinned, happy to keep that tidbit to himself if only to vex Will.
“Fine. Don’t tell me.” Will exhaled sharply. “So what did you get out of him?”
Cole acquiesced and filled in his passenger. When he got to the buyer’s name?—
“Oh, God-fucking-bullshit-dammit,” Will said on a groan. “Are you serious? We have to deal withthatguy?” He thumped his head back against the headrest. “I’d rather blow Marcus again.”
