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Goddammit.
“That’s irrelevant.”
“You seriously fucked the woman who found you covered in blood?”
“She didn’t see the hit.”
“That’s your fucking defense?”
“I’m clarifying terminology.”
“Jesus Christ. He’s a fucking lawyer now,” he mutters.
I don’t say a word.
“What do you know about Callie Quinn?”
How good she is at blow jobs.
How tight she feels around my cock.
The way she looks when she comes.
And then... the worst thought hits.
I left.
Just disappeared.
And though I try not to imagine it, I do anyway.
The disappointment on her face when she wakes up.
Hell, she might be awake already, thinking what a dick move it was for me to sneak out.
And she’s right.
Fuck.
“McConnell. What do you know about Callie?”
Callie.
He says it so casually, like I know her. Like she’s a part of my life, and not a one-time thing.
“Only her name and address.”
“That’s it?”
“Yeah.”
His brittle laugh comes through the line. “You’re protecting her.”
“I’m giving you facts.”
“You’ve given me facts for eleven years. I know the difference.”
I don’t say anything.
