“I find that hard to believe.”
“Well, how about fuck you?”
I smirked. “That sounds about right. Tell me something?”
“I’m not telling you shit—not until you tell me how you know me.”
Folding my arms over my chest, I repeated my earlier question. “Why did you believe Dory?”
“Because. I’m sure your fine ass enjoys the kee-kee’ing from the young ladies in your classroom. Impressionable, vulnerable students who are there to learn African Studies, not get dick pics and asked out for coffee dates.”
I wasn’t sure which was worse—the fact that she’d almost stolen something valuable to me or the fact that she thought I’d send a picture of my dick to a student. Both felt like slaps in the face. “Do you always believe everything your clients tell you?”
“No,” she admitted.
“What was so compelling about Dory’s story that you broke into my house and stole my shit?”
Blake bit down on her bottom lip. “Listen, she was referred to me by someone I trust. She told me her story, and I thought you were a disgusting piece of shit.”
“And now?”
Sighing, she said, “I trust Jace. Obviously, I got it wrong. I’m not a thief and I’m not a liar. You wanted me to tell you why I did it…that’s why.”
“Thanks for being honest.”
“Are you going to tell me how you know me?”
“No.” I smirked when she muttered a curse. “Maybe another time.”
Blake apologized. “I can imagine how weird this shit is for you. Especially since I have a feeling everything Dory accused you of was something she’d done to you.”
“Very perceptive.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Dory had taken something from me that I couldn’t get back. But I wouldn’t punish Blake for doing what she thought was right.
Jace approached us. “Len, can we…?”
“Let her go.” I cleared my throat, keeping eye contact with Blake. “I’m not pressing charges.”
Chapter 3
Where Did It Go Wrong?
Blake
“Should we wake her up?”
“No. Let her ass sleep. She’s getting on my damn nerves anyway. Kicking me out like I’m a stranger.”
I didn’t dare move. Maybe they’d leave if I stayed still and kept my eyes closed. Yesterday had been a nightmare. I needed this reprieve, the quiet and solace of alone time with nobody but my bed and my television.
“She’s going to be mad she didn’t get some of this breakfast I brought. Those pancakes are good as hell.”
Hot, buttery pancakes sounded so good. Knowing Dexter, he’d ordered the bacon extra crispy and the eggs scrambled hard with cheese.Yum.
“I feel so bad. It’s my fault she got arrested.”
