“Man, I hope so,” I murmured. My heart beat like a stampede of cattle. It wouldn’t settle until Lizzie was in my arms. Fuck, if this was how my life would be, constantly worrying about her, then I definitely needed to hire a shrink. I was beginning to understand why Kade was always a mess whenever Lacey wasn’t with him. Whatever. I would take the erratic heartbeat, the pacing, the ripping out my hair, and every other thing if it meant that I had her forever.
A burly cop sat on my left. “About eight people got away,” he said to his partner across from him.
Dillon nudged me.
Please, please, let Lizzie and Kross be two of those eight. Kross didn’t need to get in trouble either. Not with his boxing career in full force. He was trying to sign with a big boxing promoter.
“Who called the cops?” I asked the officer next to me.
“Anonymous tip,” he said.
I couldn’t say for sure what the laws were specifically on illegal gambling. However, what I did know was that they hadn’t read us our rights, which meant they had nothing to book us on. Not yet, anyway. Although they could hold us for twenty-four hours, and that wouldn’t be good either. Jail was jail. If Davenport found out, I could probably kiss my internship good-bye.
The van came to a stop in an underground garage. From there we were escorted up an elevator. When we got off, we were steered toward a set of interrogation rooms. The burly cop deposited Dillon and me inside a tiny, sterilized room with Terrance and the fat dude who’d sat next to Lizzie at the poker table. The room was devoid of any furniture but was filled with a strong scent of body odor coming from one—or both—of the two men.
The cop unleashed me but not fast enough. I choked at the stench then covered my nose. Dillon did the same as we scrutinized Fat Dude and Terrance.
I rubbed my wrists. “Where’s Lizzie? Have you seen her?” I narrowed my eyes at Fat Dude, then at Terrance.
Both wore placid expressions as though they’d been through the police drill a hundred times before.
“Your girl was with us in the van,” Fat Dude said. “Lovely lady. Sad that she got herself into this mess. But a Detective Rayburn took her and a guy who looks like you for questioning.”
I leaned against the two-way mirror. I’d hoped that Lizzie and Kross had gotten away, but it was good to hear she wasn’t far.
“They can’t prove anything,” Dillon said as he stood next to me.
“Maybe not.” I closed my eyes. “But what about the money you put up for this game?”
“We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Elizabeth,” Terrance spat.
My eyes flew open. “Are you for real?” I balked. “Maybe if you hadn’t stolen her money.” I pushed off the window, not caring that someone had to be watching us.
Dillon held out his arm. “Easy. Karma will prevail.”
Fuck karma. My fists were ready to show Terrance what karma was all about.
“The cops will probably question us if you beat his ass.” Dillon pointed at Terrance. “Then they will have a reason to throw you in jail tonight.”
I growled.
Fat Dude piped up. “Don’t worry about the money. The rules of the house stipulate that when the game is stopped due to reasons beyond the house’s control, they keep twenty percent of each player’s entrance fee. So you’re only out two thousand.”
Dillon slumped next to me. “My brother said something about that, but I wasn’t sure. At least now I don’t have to kiss his ass.” He laughed.
The door opened, and in waltzed Lizzie, with her hair messy around her face and a smile that sent heat to grip my nuts. She was wearing a leather jacket that fell to her knees and carrying her heels. She smiled as she came barreling at me. When I locked my arms around her, I swore I heard violins play. My dad was right. I did see the world in a whole new light, and that light was Lizzie.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “This was my fault, the cops showing up. I shouldn’t have let my anger get to me.”
I let go of her. “Where’s—”
Kross swaggered in, laughing with a man dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and a shoulder holster housing a Glock twenty-two. I guessed that was Detective Rayburn.
“I saw one of your matches three months ago,” he was saying. “My brother dragged me to one. I was impressed. You knocked out your opponent in three rounds.” The detective placed his hand on the doorknob.
“I have a bout next month,” Kross said.
“Let me know date and time,” the man with the Glock said.
Dillon and I exchanged a wide-eyed look.
“They started talking about boxing,” Lizzie added.
I’d gotten that. What surprised me was that they acted like buds from high school. Maybe Kross’s minor-celebrity status boded well for us.
Kross flicked his head at me. “That’s my brother.”
“I see the resemblance.” He chuckled. “I’m Detective Rayburn.” He pointed at the fat dude. “You, go with Detective Bensen.”
A female detective dressed similarly to Rayburn settled in the doorway.
Fat Dude pushed off the wall and came up to Lizzie. “I hope everything works out for you.”