“It doesn’t matter,” I said, teeth gritted. “I’m not turning him in.”
Ice settled over Alex’s face. “If you don’t tell me, I can charge you with obstruction of justice.”
I hardened my expression, too. “Do it.”
Challenge.
Alex slid his hand in mine and pulled me near him. I felt the cool metal of the cuff as it slid onto my wrist once more, locking with a terminal-sounding click.
Accepted.
I kept my eyes fix on Alex’s. The muscle at his jawline jumped. “You can still get out of this, Lawson.”
He was right.
As he went for the second cuff I snatched my shoulder bag and bolted out of his office. I speed-walked through the work floor, keeping my cuffed arm inside my bag. I took a chance, thinking Alex wouldn’t follow me.
I couldn’t understand why, but by the time I busted out into the clear, ink-black night, hot tears were rolling down my cheeks.
I cried all the way back to my apartment, hiccupping and sniffling until I parked my car. I pulled down the lighted visor and blinked at myself in the reflection: what remained of my hair was a wild, fuzzy, humid mess; red-rimmed eyes; bright red cheeks crisscrossed by mascara-edged tears. I slapped the visor closed, smacking myself in the face with my one dangling cuff.
“This better be worth it,” I mumbled, rubbing the reddening spot on my forehead.
I had my key in the door when it snapped open. Nina stood there, framed by brilliant yellow light. Her hair was in a greasy topknot and her eyes were hooded and sunken until she saw me.
“The hair was one thing, but . . .”
I pushed past her and dropped my shoulder bag on the couch, giving ChaCha a cursory snuggle. She licked my chin and then must have been nipped by the cuffs because she jumped out of my arms and went running down the hall.
“So much for an ever-faithful companion.”
“Sophie, you’re wearing a handcuff. Stabbed, bad hair, handcuff.” Nina counted on her fingers. “I know I said the heat makes people do crazy things but, sweetie, I think you may be taking it to extremes.”
Vlad’s pale head popped up from the other end of the coffee table. He was still shirtless and his hair was still a disheveled mess, possibly rivaling mine. His eyebrows went up and he nodded his head, impressed. “Cuffs. Cool. What’d you break out of?”
I felt myself go sheepish. “Police station.”
Nina raised an interested brow. “You and Alex getting into the harder stuff? I like. . . .”
Vlad gagged. “Old people sex. Oh my God!”
“Look at me! Do I look like this was part of a BDSM sexcapade? Officer Romero arrested me!”
“What’d you do?” Vlad asked.
“Nothing!”
I got a double shot of vampiric “I don’t believe you” faces.
“I may have stolen some evidence. But it was nothing to cuff me over.”
“So how did you get out? Sampson bake a file into a chocolate cake?”
I looked down sadly at my cuffed hand. “No. Alex came in and let me go.”
“Seems like shoddy cop work if he left the cuff on.”
“Long story. I have to go across the hall.”
“Fine.” Nina flopped down on a chair I had never seen before. I don’t know how I would have missed it, as it was an enormous leather monstrosity with buttons all over the arms and our living room is the size of a bread box. “It’s not like we’re going anywhere.” She nudged Vlad with her toe, flipped a switch, and started to vibrate.
I pointed. “When did we get that?”
“Today,” Nina said, closing her eyes as a low hum filled the room.
“Just like that?”
“UPS brought it. I ordered it from QVC. It’s Heaven.” She cracked open an eye. “Or at least as close to Heaven as I’ll ever get.”
“Wha—” I was going to say something; I figured I should since our house had gone from Ikea chic to the showroom at the crap factory. Open boxes were scattered everywhere, strips of bubble wrap popping out. We had a massage chair and a hibachi, and our tasteful, minimalist tchotchkes were being strangled by an army of fat cherubs, pig-tailed milkmaids, and crystal(ish) animals with numbered certificates of authenticity.
But my shoulder ached, my scissor stab wound stung and my eyes went to the videotapes stashed in my shoulder bag.
I could only tackle one crisis at a time.
My stomach and my heart fluttered as I stood outside Will’s door for what seemed like the umpteenth time. I licked my lips and then rapped on his door, feeling the sweat break out along my upper lip.
There was no answer.
I tried again, then paused, waited. Finally, I rolled up on my tiptoes and felt along the top of the door frame. I felt no pleasure when my fingers fumbled across the spare key that even Will didn’t know was still there.
There was nothing in Will’s apartment that would signify that Sampson was even there.