Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 41687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41687 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
While the arrest wasn’t my fault—and to be honest, I didn’t even know what the charge was—the fact that I was involved in it was a little bit my fault.
Because I’d sworn off dating, sworn off anything resembling more than a one-night stand, until my new neighbor had introduced me to her brother. And even then, I’d resisted for six full months.
Until ten days ago, when I’d finally caved and agreed to go out for a drink with Hawthorne.
And really, what kind of a name was Hawthorne anyway? Maybe that should have been a red flag.
“Get in the car,” I said, exhausted from advising him to stay calm and quiet since the officers had approached us in the restaurant.
I’ll never be able to enjoy Pastrano’s meatballs again.
I looked down at the silver metal around my wrists and snorted. Handcuffs. Something Hawthorne had teased me about one night in bed.
“You want me to bring handcuffs one night? Might be fun.”
It was not, in fact, fun.
I closed my eyes and leaned my head back. Maybe it was naïve of me to rely on Kit so much, but I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong, and I was sure Kit would get me out of this, whatever it was.
I hadn’t seen the man in person in at least eight months. He was always slammed at work or being dragged on fancy trips with whatever girlfriend he had lately. For some reason, in the past ten years, I’d never heard of him dating another man, but I stressed over the inevitability of it. It was irrational, but thinking of him with another man would have been even harder for me to take than knowing he was with a woman.
When Hawthorne was finally in the car, the cruiser pulled away from the curb.
“What’s this about?” I whispered as softly as I could.
“A misunderstanding,” he muttered. “That’s all. Don’t say anything.”
I blinked at him. “Me? I don’t have anything to say because I don’t know what the fuck is happening right now.”
“Good.”
That was all I got from him before we were walked into the precinct building and taken to separate interrogation rooms. Thankfully, I wasn’t fingerprinted or anything like that.
I wanted to ask if I was under arrest, but I didn’t dare open my mouth after I’d already stated I would not be speaking until my attorney arrived.
After only about ten minutes in the room, the door slammed open and Kit came rushing in, followed by an older woman in a custom-fitted charcoal business suit. Despite his obvious anger, Kit still exuded calm power. “Get him out of these cuffs, now.” His voice was low and dangerous.
The officer at the door came in and unlocked my cuffs. Before I could even rub at my wrists, I was engulfed in his cashmere overcoat and mashed against Kit’s chest. The familiar scent of his cologne and a hint of bourbon calmed me immediately, and I sank into him, shoving my arms inside the coat and around his waist to hold him as tightly as I could.
“What the hell happened here?” he asked someone over my head.
What followed was an unbelievable list of credit card fraud, identity theft, and wire fraud. “His employer discovered discrepancies,” the officer explained. “But the evidence turned up Mr. Warren as a co-conspirator.”
“Like hell it did,” he said through his teeth in a way that vibrated through his chest and into me. “Show me one piece of evidence. Better yet, arrest him right now. I dare you.”
The woman’s voice came closer. “Kit, they already told us he was free to go. Let me handle this. Why don’t you take Mr. Warren home?”
“You’re okay here without us?” he asked her. “I can send my car back for you.”
“That would be fine. I appreciate it, and I’ll update you in the morning.”
He grunted, and then we were on the move. Unfortunately, that meant unpeeling myself from his front and walking on my own. But he quickly grabbed my hand and yanked me along behind him, so at least I didn’t need to look where I was going or make any decisions.
My face flamed with embarrassment. How many times had Kit discovered me dating a complete loser? I had to have dated every creep, felon, and married man in San Francisco. At least it seemed that way sometimes. Sure, there had been nice guys mixed in there too, but it didn’t seem like it right now.
And right now, I felt like a stupid, naïve child. Exactly how I didn’t want Kit to see me.
“Whatever happened to that other guy you were seeing? Sol Serafini?” Kit asked when we got into the back of his dark SUV, as if reading my mind. “He would have never stolen anyone’s identity.”
And he wouldn’t have. He also didn’t steal my heart. He was a nice guy but entirely too nice for my tastes.