Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 98755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98755 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 494(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Her vibrant red hair is stuck to her skin, and she restlessly shakes her cuffs. She keeps glancing my way, and I smirk. That seems to piss her off even more.
Lucas is busily typing up our report of the incident, more pissed than usual because it’s his wallet that’s been taken. “We won’t be able to keep her for long, but we have to get her for something. My wallet has my fucking baseball game tickets for next weekend in it.”
“Don’t you use digital ones like everyone else?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“It’s not the point. I was going to ask Heidi if she’d come with me. It doesn’t look as cool if I’m just showing her a screen.”
I say nothing. He’s had a crush on Heidi, the receptionist, since he started working here six years ago. I’ve never had the heart to tell him I fucked her within the first week of her being here. Every time he goes to ask her out, he suddenly has a reason why he can’t. This time, it was taken out of his hands by a certain little redheaded vixen.
Hope sighs, frustrated, as the police officer stands and comes over to me. “I don’t know how long we can keep her here.”
“For as long as it takes until we know where the wallet is,” I tell him.
“She said her friend has it.” I already know this.
“So find out what her friend’s name is and where she lives,” Lucas growls. I refrain from smirking at his anger. I cross my arms expectantly.
The officer licks his lips as he glances at the door as if waiting for hell to rain over us. I can’t fucking wait because I doubt even Alek Ivanov is that much of a savage to burst into a police station, especially if it might reflect badly on his wife’s career.
The officer gulps. “She said snitches get stitches.”
I can’t hold back the laughter at how terrified he is of one tiny woman.
“You want to question her?” he asks me, almost begging me to take over.
She’s slouched in the chair now as if trying to go back to sleep.
“Sure.” I’d fucking love to. My partner looks up at me and raises a brow. “Do you want your wallet back or not? Can’t have you missing out on a hot date.”
Red stains his cheeks, and I find it amusing at how straight and narrow this guy is and the mention of a date has him blushing.
I wait for them to take her into the interrogation room, and then I watch her from the other side of the one-way glass as she impatiently blows at her messy, damp hair. Hope Ivanov has definitely had better days. But even with mascara streaking down her face, she still looks like a goddess. I like this sight of her best. It’s like unmasking the little she-devil that so very few see.
Except for me. I did that night.
Explicitly.
She starts questioning if the cuffs are necessary as an officer hooks her wrists to the ring bolted to the table. The officer doesn’t engage as he walks away, and she screams, telling him he’s going bald at the back.
So very drunk and opposite to her usual self.
“Do you want me in there?” Lucas asks.
“No. Let me handle this one.”
“I don’t care if you have to use your charm on this one. Just get my wallet back, please,” he demands, then slams the door behind him.
I fold my arms over my chest, smirking.
I guess now it’s time to talk to her.
CHAPTER 3
Hope
My foot bounces, and I know I’m sobering up.
Shit, how did I let her get me into this? Charlotte is a friend from school, and while I don’t see her all that often since we graduated, when I do, she always has some crazy scheme planned.
The door creaks open, and my gaze shoots to it. My hands are cuffed to the table, but if they were free, I’d fucking strangle this asshole’s neck.
They’re treating me like a common criminal.
And I wasn’t even the one who took the fucking wallet.
“Miss Ivanov.” There he is again, dressed in all black, his sleeves still pushed up, but this time, he doesn’t have the hat on. His dark hair is messy, with loose, short curls on top, and a distant memory returns of a time I once ran my fingers through it.
“Mr. Hero,” I sneer, now wishing I’d actually looked at the badge he flashed me in the park before taunting him that it’s fake. If I had, maybe I wouldn’t have been so surprised by my captor. He doesn’t smile as he approaches, then leans over and unlocks the cuffs.
“You can behave?” he asks. I nod and rub my wrists where I’ve hidden them in my lap. “I just have a few questions.”
“I didn’t do anything.” Those are the words that leave my mouth when I’d really like to tell him to fuck right off.