"Don't worry, Daryl," I said. "I see you being cast in the newspaper articles as the dedicated officer who held strong against rampant abuse of power and corruption in the sheriff’s department. The story virtually writes itself."
Daryl ignored me. "Just let her back there, Ruby," he said. "You know we ain't got nobody else in there except Mr. Jenkins, and he's in the drunk tank. Silas Saint is going to get bailed out anyway now that his brother's with that movie star."
I leaned forward, my arms on the counter. "He is, Ruby."
Her expression softened, and she sighed. "Fine." She paused for a moment, and then leaned in closer. "So you're River Andrews' attorney, then? I bet you know a lot of movie stars, right?"
I shook my head, raising a finger to my lips. "I can't answer that question, Officer Edwards," I said. "Attorney-client privilege and all."
I couldn't even remember if attorney-client privilege applied to this scenario, if it was similar to how shrinks couldn't tell you if someone was their client. But Ruby seemed to buy the answer.
She stood up, stepped away from the counter, a disappointed expression on her face, so I decided to throw her a bone.
"Although, just between you and me," I said, lowering my voice conspiratorially, "I might know someone who represents that big movie star, the one who was just arrested for having sex with a prostitute in London a few weeks ago."
Ruby's eyes widened. "I just couldn't believe that," she said. "He always seemed like such a nice guy in his movies. I guess you never really know whether people are pulling one over on you."
"No, Ruby," I said, shaking my head. "You certainly do not. There are a lot of deceptive people in this world." I slid my fake bar card back into its place in Molly's wallet.
"You don't have to tell me that," she said. “I'll bring you back. You'll have to leave your purse and cell phone here. Pen and notepad only."
Fifteen minutes later, Ruby was leading me down the hallway to a room. "We don't have all the bells and whistles like the bigger places," she said. "But this one of our interrogation rooms. It doubles as a visiting room. The sound is off, obviously, so we can't listen in, legally speaking. But you'll be on the closed-circuit video up front, just in case anything goes wrong."
I looked through the small square window at the top of the door, where Silas sat in a jumpsuit, his hands cuffed and resting on the aluminum table. "Can the cuffs be removed?"
She shook her head. "Sorry, Ms. McAdams," she said. "We have to follow protocol. I'll be up front if you need anything. The panic button is on the wall. Keep yourself closest to the door; the prisoner remains in the seat furthest from the door. Don't give the prisoner anything, even a pen. I'm sure you know all of the rules already - it's all standard stuff."
"Of course," I said, looking at the window again.
She pulled open the door. "Saint," she said. "Your attorney is here."
To his credit, Silas remained poker-faced.
"Thank you, Ruby," I said, walking to the table, pen and paper in hand. The door slammed closed behind me.
"Attorney?" Silas asked. "Is that what you are?"
"When it suits me," I said. "And sometimes when I have to get a friend out of a jam."
"Friend?" Silas asked. "Don't call me that shit. We're not friends, you and I."
I bristled at his statement. "That's fucking hateful, Silas," I said. "We used to be friends, a long time ago."
Silas leaned forward. "I never wanted to be just friends, Tempest," he said.
I swallowed hard, the implication of his words sinking in. I didn't need to hear Silas say he wanted something more with me.
"Well, we're not friends, Silas. Friends tell each other things. Like the fact that they still live in their hometowns." The words sounded more abrasive than I intended, and I regretted them as soon as they came out of my mouth.
Silas' eyes narrowed, and his voice was hard. "You didn't exactly say you were coming back to West Bend. So what the hell are you doing here, Ms. McAdams?"
26
Silas
"What am I doing here?" she asked. "You sound like you're not happy I showed up. To help you, I might add."
I laughed. "Happy?" I didn't know how the hell I felt about Tempest showing up here. But happy? That definitely wasn't the word for it. That was way too fucking uncomplicated a word for the complicated bullshit we had between us.
I couldn't decide if I wanted to rip her clothes off and make her mine, or tell her I never wanted to see her again.
"I'm here getting your ass out of a jam," Tempest continued. "You should be on your knees, thanking me."
I couldn't help but smirk. The image of Tempest on her knees between my legs, taking my cock in her mouth, immediately flashed in my mind's eye.
I could feel my cock getting hard at the thought of her lips wrapped around me, even though I was sitting here in jail. That was some kind of messed up.
"Give me a couple hours," I said, leaning forward, my voice low. "And I'll be on my knees expressing my gratitude with my tongue."