Just yesterday, Kirk Miller had terminated my employment and I’d—very publicly, in front of the entire office—told him right where he could stick my job. In fact, I’d even offered to do it for him. Now his dead body was propped against the wall outside my apartment, making it clear that in the end I was the one getting screwed. Talk about irony.
* * *
Addison
The buzz of my cell phone dragged me away from my dreamy make-out session with Charlie Hunnam, and when I glanced at my alarm clock, I swore. “Someone better be dead,” I answered.
“Addie,” Dylan rasped. “I’m in jail.”
I rubbed my eyes and frowned. “What the hell do you mean, you’re ‘in jail’?”
“Kirk the...” Her voice cracked.
“Kirk the Jerk?” My blood pressure spiked. “What’d he do this time?”
“He was right outside my apartment this morning and—”
“What?!” Had he been there all night? Dylan was so wasted she wouldn’t have noticed if she’d stumbled over him to let herself in. I wanted to shake her for insisting that the limo driver didn’t need to walk her to her door. “I don’t care how independent you think you are, from now on Jimmy is walking you all the way to your apartment, you hear me?”
She sniffed.
Something was seriously wrong. I softened my tone and asked, “So why are you at the jail? Filing a restraining order?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then what, exactly?” Seriously, sometimes trying to get information out of Dylan was like getting a rectal exam. Tight and unyielding.
“Addie, Kirk’s dead.”
“Dead?” The word refused to set in. “As in, figuratively?”
“No. Dead as in literally, and I’ve been arrested for his murder. I need an attorney. Like yesterday.”
“Shit, you’re serious?” I sat up. “That’s crazy.” And complete bullshit, because my bestie was smart. If she was going to kill anyone, she’d call me and set up an alibi.
“Unfortunately, yes. I’m at the Multnomah County Detention Center. Do you think Ash will help me?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course he’ll help you. We’ll both be right there.”
“Thanks,” she whispered.
“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” I promised.
“Okay. I’ll see you soon.”
She hung up and I dialed Asher. He didn’t answer so I was forced to leave a voice mail. “Ashey, Dylan’s been arrested. I need you to meet me at the MCDC, ASAP.”
I hung up, took the fastest shower in history and, after haphazardly throwing clothes on my body, grabbed my keys just as my phone rang. “Hey, Ashey.”
“What the hell is going on?” he demanded.
I hurried through the hall and caught the elevator down to the parking garage while I filled him in and we agreed to meet at the jail.
My father had given me a Mercedes as a guilt offering for not being present for my sixteenth birthday—or any of my other birthdays for that matter (he provided a brand new version of my Mercedes each year). I hated to drive, though, so I usually called his limo driver, Jimmy, to cart me around. No time for that now, I hopped into my Merc and stepped on the gas. My condo was in the Pearl, not far from the jail, but I still broke a few speed laws to get to Dylan. The parking gods blessed me with a close space, and I paid for my ticket, stuck it to my window, and rushed into the building. Asher was already there and requesting to see his “client.”
“Ash!” I called.
He turned and pulled me in for a quick hug.
“What did they say?”
“They’re getting me a room so I can talk to her,” he said.
“I want to see her too.”
“Impossible. Having a third party there breaks privilege,” he said. “She needs to be able to tell me everything.”
I crossed my arms with a huff. “I’m not a third party, I’m her best friend. And you really think she’ll tell you things she won’t tell me?”
“It doesn’t matter. Even if the police would let you go back there with me, it would be a bad idea. Besides, you were with Dylan last night, so they’re going to want to question you. But first, we need to talk.” He led me back out of the building and down the block before turning to ask, “What did you guys do yesterday?”
After I described our day and night in great detail, and promised not to make any snarky comments that would incriminate either Dylan or myself, Asher let me back into the building and directed me toward the sexiest man I have ever laid eyes on. Tall and built, the delicious specimen before me was clearly no stranger to the gym. His just out of bed hair made him look a little wild and rugged (and delicious), and his dark blue eyes seemed to stare right into my soul.
“You caught this?” Asher asked.
“Yeah,” Sexy McSexerson said.
Asher smiled. “Jake, this is my little sister, Addison. Addie, this is Detective Jake Parker. He’s heading up Dylan’s investigation, and he’s a good friend. He’ll take care of you.”
And if that wasn’t a loaded statement. Before I could ask Asher exactly what this “taking care of” me entailed, Jake Parker thrust his hand my direction and his lips spread into a delicious smile. I nearly lost my undies, but I squared my shoulders and met his eyes.
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Allen.”
I slid my hand in his and warmth spread up my arm. I jerked away and jammed my hand into my jeans pocket. “Ah, you too.” I shook myself, coming to my senses. “Or it would be, under different circumstances.”
Asher chuckled, shaking his head as he walked away. I opened my mouth to ask him how he knew the detective, but I wasn’t fast enough. So I turned back to Sexy McSexerson.
“Your brother said you wouldn’t be opposed to answering a few questions,” he said.
“Of course. Dylan and I have been best friends since sixth grade. I know her better than I know myself and I can assure you she wouldn’t kill anyone. We have nothing to hide.”
“Excellent.”
“What does ‘caught this’ mean?”
“Huh?” he asked.
“Asher said you ‘caught this.’”
“I caught the case, meaning I was assigned to it.”
“Oh, right.”
He smiled again and I melted a little. Lordy, he was pretty.
“Follow me please,” he said.
He led me down a long hallway lit with those God-awful luminescent tubes. Just like in every corny cop show, one flickered as we walked under it. I rolled my eyes.
“Do police stations pay extra for the flickering light effect?” I asked.
Detective Parker’s lips quirked as he stepped into a room, pulled out a chair, and invited me to take a seat. A second man joined us, introducing himself as Detective Pike. Older than Sexy by at least twenty years, he was obviously the one eating all the doughnuts, but he had kind eyes and a genuine smile.
Detective Parker pulled out a notepad and pen and sat across the table from me. “Why don’t we start with what you and Ms. James did yesterday?”
The air was almost as tense as one of Daddy’s board meetings, and it instantly tied my neck in knots. I made a mental note to schedule a massage and did my best to dispel the tension with a smile. Keeping my tone light, I replied, “Well, we certainly didn’t kill anyone.”
They didn’t react, but my shoulders loosened a bit.
Detective Parker wrote something on his pad before glancing up at me. “I’m going to need you to be a little more specific, Ms. Allen. Please start from the beginning and include timeframes and any possible witnesses.”
“Well, after Dylan was fired by her boss—who, by the way, she should have filed a sexual harassment charge against, but she’s peaceful and refused to stir the pot at work—we spent the day at my house. She was pretty upset.”
Detective Parker paused in his scribbling. “Upset?”
“Yes. Dylan is a rare breed. She had a crappy childhood, and her family i
s Deliverance-breed kind of crazy, but she still insists on seeing the good in people. It actually disappoints her when they turn out to be asshats.”
“Disappoints her enough to kill them?”
“Um, no. She handles her disappointment like any other highly functioning adult.” I didn’t like his tone, so I took my own back to professional. “She arrived shortly after ten, and we spent the day eating and drinking away our frustrations. We started with mimosas for breakfast and called for takeout from the VQ for lunch. We left the house around six or so. My building has security cameras, so you can verify that information. My driver, Jimmy, took us to Rialto’s for dinner.”
Detective Pike leaned forward, clearing his throat. “Do you remember the name of your server? Or anyone else who could vouch for your presence there?”
He seemed like he was genuinely trying to help, so I relaxed a bit. “Unfortunately no, but the girl was barely past eighteen and seriously in need of a makeover. She had badly-dyed black hair and eyebrows so thick they looked like two pieces of licorice stuck to her forehead.”
Detective Parker had his head down, writing, but he didn’t even try to hide his smile. Confident he was warming up to me, I continued. “After dinner, Jimmy took us to the Brass Frog where we drank until Dylan could barely walk, then Jimmy took me home before dropping her off at her apartment. Both he and Dylan confirmed she got home okay, so I went to bed... alone, in case that matters.”
Detective Parker’s mouth twitched and he shifted in his chair before focusing on me again. “How much did Ms. James have to drink?”
“A lot. We both did, only she’s a lightweight. We had to practically pour her into the limo. Jimmy said she wouldn’t let him walk her up to her apartment, which, by the way, he got a talking-to about. She was wasted and he didn’t walk her upstairs? Jerk. If he didn’t work for my dad, I’d fire him.”
“Right. Well, rudeness aside, since Jimmy didn’t walk her to the door, her alibi ended the moment he dropped her off.”
“And when was Kirk killed?” I asked.
He glanced at the file. “The time of death is currently confidential.”
Of course it was. “Why?”
“Because it’s difficult to fabricate an alibi if you don’t know the time of death.”
Was he accusing me of lying? Of being willing to lie? “Listen, if Dylan had killed Kirk, I would know the time of death because she would have called me to help bury the body. I didn’t get a call, so she didn’t do it.”
He eyed me. “I don’t think you’re taking this seriously.”
“Of course I’m not, because it’s ridiculous.” I placed my hands on the table in an effort not to hit something. I’d been calm and charming, and now I was ready to flip my lid. “Dylan would never kill anyone. She doesn’t even kill bugs. I understand that you have to ask these questions, but she wouldn’t do it. She texted me as soon as she got home to say she got there okay. It wasn’t her.”
“She texted?” he clarified.
“Yes.”
“That doesn’t give her an alibi. She could have texted before, during, or after the murder.”
“Ohmigod, are you being serious right now?” I snapped.
“A man is dead, Ms. Allen. It’s a very serious situation.”
I take back thinking you were hot. You’re an ass.
I took a deep breath. “I’d like my lawyer now.”
He cocked his head, studying me. “Why do you think you need a lawyer?”
“Oh, I don’t yet. But I’m thinking I might need one in a few minutes.”
His eyebrows shot up his forehead.
“I have an intense desire to hit you right now, and I’m preemptively requesting a lawyer because I’m not really in the mood to join my bestie in a cell for assaulting an officer.”
Detective Parker blinked, clearly stunned, then he bit back a grin and glanced at Detective Pike.
“I’ll get Mr. Allen,” Pike offered.
The older man left the room and I crossed my arms and leaned back against the plastic seat, bouncing my leg up and down as I tended to do when stressed.
“You okay?” Parker asked.
I stilled my leg and sat up a bit. “Restless leg syndrome.”
He chuckled. “Anyone ever tell you you’re funny?”
I sighed. “My best friend. All the time. She could tell you herself, but she’s being wrongly imprisoned.”
“Addison.” He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his expression serious once again. “May I call you Addison?”
I shrugged, a shiver stealing down my spine at the sound of my name on his lips. “Knock yourself out.”
“You can call me Jake. Your brother’s one of the good guys, which is rare to find in a criminal defense attorney. He’s already given me his take on Ms. James, and he’s warned me about you, too.”
I bristled with indignation at his tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“He said Ms. James is innocent and you’ll try to do everything you can to get her out of here.”
“Well, yeah. She is my best friend.”
He nodded. “And that’s admirable, but there’s nothing you can do for her right now.”
My brother chose that moment to walk in and I jumped to my feet.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Not really,” I said. “I’d like to get Dylan and leave now.”
“You can’t, Sis.”
“She’s going to have to hang out here for the weekend,” Jake said.
“Here? The entire weekend?” I rasped.
“Yes ma’am.”
I waved my finger at him. “FYI, Detective Parker, having to stay behind bars for the weekend is not the same as hanging out!” I faced Asher again. “Why can’t we just bail her out? I brought my checkbook!”
“She has to appear in bond court, which won’t happen until Monday morning,” Jake provided.
“Ashey, you have to do something. We can’t leave Dylan here for the weekend. She’ll go nuts.”
My brother took my arms and squeezed gently. “I don’t have a whole lot of say here, Addie. I’m sorry.”
“That is not an acceptable answer!” I squeaked in frustration, and then saw his expression and my heart fell. “Oh, Ashey, I’m so sorry. You’re probably just as worried as I am... maybe more.” He gave me a tight nod and I searched his face. “Have you seen her yet?”
“They’re getting her.”
“There must be something you can do. You’re Asher Allen! You are the most powerful man I know next to Daddy...” I gasped. “Daddy. I’ll call Daddy.”
“Addie, even the great Bruce Allen can’t get Dylan out.”
“He can call one of his judge cronies,” I argued.
“It doesn’t work that way,” Jake said.
“I have to at least try!”
“Okay, Addie,” my brother crooned. “Let’s take a minute.”
“Oh, go screw your minute,” I said, and dug my phone out of my purse, calling my dad.
“Hey, Button.”
“Hi, Daddy,” I said, adding a little extra charm and saccharin to my voice. “Um, I need a super-duper big favor.”
“Anything, sweetheart.”
“Dylan’s been arrested... for something she totally didn’t do... but they’re saying she has to stay here for the weekend. Can you call one of your friends to get her released, please?”
“No can do, honey.”
“What? Why not?”
“It doesn’t work that way.”
“Why not?” I scrunched up my nose in frustration. “You golf with Judge Reynolds.”
“Addison, I’m not calling Gary on his day off to get your friend out of jail.”
I took a deep breath in an effort not to eviscerate my father. “Daddy. You know Dylan. You love Dylan. She’s practically family. Please.”
“I can’t, Addison. I’m sorry. I’m actually running into a meeting, so I’m gonna let you go.”
He h
ung up and I dropped my phone back in my purse.
“What did he say?” Asher asked.
I bit my lip. “He won’t help.”
“I didn’t think so.”
I sighed. “If you can’t get her out, put me in with her.”
“No way,” Asher said.
I grabbed Asher’s arms and stared up at him, whispering, “You know what she’s been through, Ashey... with her dad. This will kill her.”
“She’s stronger than you think, Sis.”
I blinked back tears and shook my head. “You can’t leave her in there.”
“I have no choice.”
I angrily wiped my tears away from my cheeks. “Then I’m staying.”
“Blowfish, Addie.”
I scowled. “Suck it, Asher.”
“Blowfish” had been our secret code word since high school. We used it when one of us was acting erratically. Right now, however, my best friend was in trouble, so my brother could stick his blowfish up his butt for all I cared.
“Addison,” Jake said, his tone placating, like he was trying to tame a feral cat.
“Don’t,” I demanded.
“I’m sorry?”
“Don’t speak to me as though I’m a crazy person poised to kill someone. Unless you’re prepared to release my friend, you can sit your sexy butt down—” I hissed in frustration as my brother’s face contorted in a horrified expression. Okay, maybe it was my face. Why did I call Jake’s butt sexy? What the hell was wrong with me? “If you really can’t get Dylan out, then I’ll stay with her.”
“You can’t stay here, Addison,” Jake said.
“What if I hit you?”
“What?”
“What if I hit you? Or kick you? Or I don’t know, scratch your gorgeous blue eyes out.”
Damn it! Again? I’m losing my mind!
He chuckled. “Say again?”
“I’m prepared to assault you. I don’t want to do it, because I’m a lover, not a fighter, but I’ll do anything I need to get to Dylan.” I stepped closer to the gorgeous man. “Will you lock me up if I assault you?”
My brother’s arms wrapped around me like a vice and he physically moved me away from the detective. “Blowfish, blowfish, blowfish.”
“Is she serious?” Jake asked Asher.
Ryder (Sinners and Saints, #1) Page 27
