commanding. I warred with whether or not I wanted to play ball with him. A part of me—the stubborn part didn’t want to cooperate about anything, even something as small as taking a seat. But the more logical aka mature side of me knew things would go a lot smoother if I just complied.
I heaved a huge sigh and plopped demonstratively down. “Happy?” I couldn’t help but snap. I was being an idiot and I knew it. I needed to curb my sarcastic stubborn side just long enough to get out of trouble.
“I’m going to get straight to the point,” the detective rumbled. “There are several witnesses that place you at the same hotel where the victim was staying. Officer Moretti himself admits to having picked you up in a confused state right outside of the hotel earlier this evening. The—”
“I didn’t do it,” I interjected.
The detective pinched the bridge of his nose and averted his gaze. “Honestly, I really don’t think you did. The timeline doesn’t add up. It was obvious the victim was killed in her hotel room. I don’t see how you could have gotten her all the way to your apartment without being seen. There are so many things that just don’t add up.” He stood and started pacing. “I’m hoping you have some information.”
“I—I don’t—” Shit . I didn’t know what to say. I started thinking up and discarding possible lies that could explain in a plausible way what happened.
“—was she a client?”
I’d missed the first part of what the detective had said, but the last part grabbed my full attention. “What? You mean at Club Elite?”
“No,” he ran his hand through his hair as he slid back into his seat, catching my gaze with his. “I mean, did she pay you for sex? Was she a client? Is that why you’re reluctant to—”
I stood abruptly, toppling my chair to the ground. “No! I’m not a fucking prostitute!” I pieced it all together quickly. My presence at the hotel, coupled with my attire… shit. I could see why he’d connected the dots the way he had.
“I won’t book you for solicitation under the circumstances. I just want answers,” he droned on. “Please work with me on this. If you don’t cooperate then I’m going to have to let you cool your jets in jail until you change your mind.”
Cool your jets? Who says that anymore? I slammed my fists down on the table, the edge of the cuffs biting into my wrists painfully. “I’m not a prostitute. Since when does being an exotic dancer automatically translate to that?”
We stared at each other a moment, neither one of us speaking. Slowly Detective Anthony’s eyebrows raised. “Someone will be in shortly to take you to get booked.” He stood and stalked to the door. It looked like he’d read in my eyes that I wasn’t going to cave. The problem was that I couldn’t since the truth was beyond unbelievable. Maybe I should spend my time in jail thinking up a somewhat plausible story. Could I just lie and say I was a prostitute? The very thought pissed me off. It was possibly my only way out of the mess Lucian had put me in.
I dropped my forehead to the table. “Pride goeth before a fall,” I muttered to myself. It looked like I was about to become a prostitute as far as everyone was concerned.
9
I was beyond pissed. A word didn’t even exist for how beyond pissed I was. I had been pumping myself up to make the false prostitute confession so I could walk free but after I was booked no one came to see me. Not a single soul. I figured someone would have been sent to ask me again to cooperate after Detective Anthony’s effort to scare me. Nope. Instead, after I was booked I was left to stew alone in a holding cell.
It didn’t make sense. If I was booked, wasn’t I supposed to be put in with general population and given a uniform or something? But what did I know, the only information I thought I knew about that kind of stuff had been garnered from TV. So basically I had no clue what was going
I heaved a huge sigh and plopped demonstratively down. “Happy?” I couldn’t help but snap. I was being an idiot and I knew it. I needed to curb my sarcastic stubborn side just long enough to get out of trouble.
“I’m going to get straight to the point,” the detective rumbled. “There are several witnesses that place you at the same hotel where the victim was staying. Officer Moretti himself admits to having picked you up in a confused state right outside of the hotel earlier this evening. The—”
“I didn’t do it,” I interjected.
The detective pinched the bridge of his nose and averted his gaze. “Honestly, I really don’t think you did. The timeline doesn’t add up. It was obvious the victim was killed in her hotel room. I don’t see how you could have gotten her all the way to your apartment without being seen. There are so many things that just don’t add up.” He stood and started pacing. “I’m hoping you have some information.”
“I—I don’t—” Shit . I didn’t know what to say. I started thinking up and discarding possible lies that could explain in a plausible way what happened.
“—was she a client?”
I’d missed the first part of what the detective had said, but the last part grabbed my full attention. “What? You mean at Club Elite?”
“No,” he ran his hand through his hair as he slid back into his seat, catching my gaze with his. “I mean, did she pay you for sex? Was she a client? Is that why you’re reluctant to—”
I stood abruptly, toppling my chair to the ground. “No! I’m not a fucking prostitute!” I pieced it all together quickly. My presence at the hotel, coupled with my attire… shit. I could see why he’d connected the dots the way he had.
“I won’t book you for solicitation under the circumstances. I just want answers,” he droned on. “Please work with me on this. If you don’t cooperate then I’m going to have to let you cool your jets in jail until you change your mind.”
Cool your jets? Who says that anymore? I slammed my fists down on the table, the edge of the cuffs biting into my wrists painfully. “I’m not a prostitute. Since when does being an exotic dancer automatically translate to that?”
We stared at each other a moment, neither one of us speaking. Slowly Detective Anthony’s eyebrows raised. “Someone will be in shortly to take you to get booked.” He stood and stalked to the door. It looked like he’d read in my eyes that I wasn’t going to cave. The problem was that I couldn’t since the truth was beyond unbelievable. Maybe I should spend my time in jail thinking up a somewhat plausible story. Could I just lie and say I was a prostitute? The very thought pissed me off. It was possibly my only way out of the mess Lucian had put me in.
I dropped my forehead to the table. “Pride goeth before a fall,” I muttered to myself. It looked like I was about to become a prostitute as far as everyone was concerned.
9
I was beyond pissed. A word didn’t even exist for how beyond pissed I was. I had been pumping myself up to make the false prostitute confession so I could walk free but after I was booked no one came to see me. Not a single soul. I figured someone would have been sent to ask me again to cooperate after Detective Anthony’s effort to scare me. Nope. Instead, after I was booked I was left to stew alone in a holding cell.
It didn’t make sense. If I was booked, wasn’t I supposed to be put in with general population and given a uniform or something? But what did I know, the only information I thought I knew about that kind of stuff had been garnered from TV. So basically I had no clue what was going
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