Both of them came together in front of me, like two ends of a curtain closing in one brisk movement.
“What?”
Bryce spoke loudly, “How does that work?”
“This?”
“The ankle monitor, yes.” Bryce’s elbow nudged Corrigan.
“Yeah,” Corrigan added. “Like does she only have so many feet to go or what? You said she’s under house arrest. Is that legal? She’s not been convicted. Isn’t that when that punishment happens?”
The male detective’s voice was strained, tense. “Not that I have to explain the actions of our judicial system, but she’s not technically under house arrest. She will,” his voice grew clearer, and I could tell he was moving toward me, “need to wear this so we know where she is at all times.”
Bryce and Corrigan held firm.
The guy stopped right in front of them, then he said in a low warning, “Move aside, gentlemen.”
“It’s fine, you guys.” I touched both of them on the back. They moved aside, but only after another moment of standing guard for me.
As they did, the male detective raked a hard eye over me before he knelt at my feet. I lifted my pant leg, and he put the ankle monitor on me. Just like that, no big fuss, and I was tagged like an animal. I glanced down, lifting my ankle so I could see it better.
I was a walking GPS alert now. This was awesome. I groaned. “Can I shower with this thing?”
“Nope.” He hoisted himself back up. There was no sympathy on his face at all. “Stick the leg out and wrap it with a bag if you don’t want to get electrocuted or have the police department at your house. There are no alerts set if you wander out of the house. You can go about as much as you want, which I doubt is much since everyone and their long-lost aunt knows you’re The Queen Bee Killer, but whatever rocks your boat. Just know we can always find you now.” He smiled a very nice fuck-off sort of smile, and he winked. “Have a good day, now.”
Sliding past Bryce and Corrigan, he gave them both a once-over, then looked to Denton. He was thinking something. I could see it on his face, but all he did was grunt and shake his head. Then he murmured, back at the door, “Come on, Molls. I’ve got a handkerchief in the car for your drool.”
She sucked her breath in, it was such a slight sound that it was barely heard, and she hurried after him. Her voice carried back to us as she said, “I wasn’t—”
Corrigan burst out, “Who the fuck cares?” And took two steps to close the door, letting it slam shut by itself. He gave it a mock salute and then flipped his hand around so his middle finger was extended. “Good day to you, police dicks.”
“Well.” My dad looked around, his eyebrows raised high. “That was . . . unexpected.”
My scowl deepened. “I can’t shower. ‘Unexpected’ is not a term I would use to describe this visit.”
“Fuckheads.” Corrigan slid his hands into his pockets, hunching his shoulders. “That’s the term I would use.”
My dad sighed. “Well, I can’t say that I’m not a little grateful. Sheldon, with that monitor, if there are any more murders, they’ll know where you were or where you weren’t. This could help in the case.”
“That’s lovely.” I gave him two thumbs-up. “Here’s hoping someone else will die now.”
“Sheldon,” he said quietly.
Beth spoke over him, resting her hand on his arm, “Your father’s just worried. That’s all.” Giving his arm a squeeze, she held her chin high, and left for the kitchen. As she did, the back of her silk robe swayed back and forth behind her. Then I noticed the rest. They were all in their pajamas, somewhat.
Corrigan was wearing grey sweats and a plain white shirt. Bryce had on black sport pants and a grey shirt, while the movie star had on oversized blue scrub pants . . . and no shirt. I wolf-whistled. “I must be really out of it not to notice that.”
His eyebrows bunched together. “Notice what?”
I waved a hand up and down. “It’s a Monet of muscles, the six-pack, pectorals, it’s just . . .” I pretended to kiss the air. “A masterpiece.”
He rolled his eyes. “Nothing you haven’t seen.” He smirked. “Twice.”
I shot back, “I don’t remember any clothing being taken off for the second round.” Then I winced and realized the stoic expressions on both Bryce and Corrigan’s face. “Uh . . .”
“Shut it.” Bryce smirked. “You’ve seen me naked the most here—” He halted as Corrigan abruptly swung around and left, heading down a hallway. “Uh. Never mind. Enjoy Denton’s masterpiece all you want.”
I pressed my lips together. There was another comeback there, a crude joke just asking to be told, but I kept quiet. There’d been a time when Corrigan would’ve said it for me. He would’ve winked, and delivered a better joke than I could ever think of, and he’d follow it up with pinching my ass.
Jaden (Jaded #3)
Tijan's books
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