“Eva.” He attempts to touch my bare shoulder, but once more, I move away. “Please don’t do this. Stop this silliness.” He uses the parental tone that grates on my nerves.
He is no more than five years older than me, yet he treats me like a child, like my father does. Before, I didn’t care. I didn’t have any hopes or dreams, or a life worth fighting for. But now, that’s all changed.
“Miguel, leave now or I will tell one of these officers that you are harassing me. Or better yet, I’ll call my uncle. We can see if we want to revise our terms of your departure with the company.”
He pales, and I step closer, narrowing my gaze. “Listen to me. Forget my name. Lose my number. Better yet, think of me as dead to you.”
Spinning on my heel, I march up to the counter and demand to see Jared. An officer informs me that Jared has refused release, which is what I expected. He’s still in a holding cell, and he’ll have to consent to seeing me.
“Come with me.” The plump officer leads the way down a corridor and then stops. “Please stay here, ma’am.”
Anxious, I wait while he strolls a few feet away where I can make out cells filled with people. I can’t see Jared.
The officer mumbles something, clearly talking to someone in the cell before coming back to me. “He doesn’t want to talk to anyone.”
“Did you tell him it’s me? Eva Ramirez?” I plant my hands on my hips.
Shaking his head, his lips thin. “Ma’am, he didn’t ask. He doesn’t want to see anyone. Like I said, he’s going to have no choice but to be released soon. He can’t take up space in our jails.”
“That isn’t acceptable. I want him out now.”
“Ma’am, don’t make this harder than it needs to be. If you want to wait for him, why don’t you grab a coffee and you can sit on the bench outside? You’ll be able to see anyone coming and going.”
His dismissive attitude isn’t doing anything for my mounting frustration and fatigue. As I’m about to respond, another officer calls him over.
“One moment, ma’am, and I’ll take you back to the front.”
With a tight nod, I wait until his back is turned and then scurry down the hall toward the cells.
“Jared. Jared Grange,” I whisper-shout, scanning the diverse group of men in the large cell.
Several heads turn, one or two whistle, and others holler catcalls, only adding to my nervousness.
“Hey, sexy momma.” A burly man with a beard and long scar across his cheek straightens against the wall, tracking my every move.
“Jared.” This time, I’m more insistent, face flushing from the lewd stares from some of the men.
I glance behind me to where the cop is likely to turn up at any moment, now unsure if I want the time to find Jared or want to be hauled out of here.
Another wiry man saunters over to the bars, sticking his tongue out in a licking motion and one of his hands rubbing at his crotch. “Baby, you’re small but those curves. Bet your pussy would feel like a vise around my—”
“Shut your fucking mouth.” Jared lunges forward, grabbing him by the collar and thrusting him back into a small crowd.
Sun-kissed skin is the first thing to pull me mentally out of this creepy place. Then his cut arms and defined chest, taut and flexing, cause my breath to stutter as heat flares in my core.
This is neither the time nor the place to gawk at him, but I can’t help myself. I want him.
Then he’s whipping back around. “Eva, what are you doing here?”
Molten-amber eyes, full lips, and a square, scruff-darkened jaw is all I see as he stalks toward me.
“I could ask you the same question.” My insides quiver at being this close to him.
“This is no place for you. I’m better in here than out there.” The muscle in his jaw tics.
“What do you mean?”
“I got into a fight with Miguel.” Shame shadows his tone. “I’m sure you’ve heard all about it.”
The jeers and lewd comments continue, and his shoulders tense, fingers curling around the bars to the point that his knuckles turn white.
If we don’t get out of here soon, he’s going to get into another fight.
“Yes, I heard, and I don’t care. Can we just get out of here?”
“Ma’am.” The police officer jogs toward me, his expression stern. “You can’t just come back here.” He takes me by the bicep and turns to the men. “Shut up. Now.”
I wince at his loud command, and Jared says, “Officer, I want to be released.”
“You just refused a visitor.” The officer is frustrated, but doesn’t make it difficult for Jared to be released.
Within the hour, we’re strolling out the front doors of the precinct, side by side. He’s guarded, most probably uncertain of why I’m here.
“Oh, you called Quint.” My eyes land on the muscled bodyguard leaning on the driver door of a black Range Rover.
“Yeah, but I can drop you at the hotel.” He guides me to the back door, motioning to his guy that he’s got this covered.
I slide in, and he does after me. I release a sigh, grateful he didn’t sit in the front seat.
“Can I go back to your place?”
“My place?” He arches a brow, and his scrumptious lips twitch into a sly grin. “Sure thing. Q, you heard the lady. My place.”
33
Bubblegum on fire
JARED
“Eva, I have to shower.” My insides are jittery, and I’m unsure what to make of her showing up at the jail but too fucking scared to ask.
“Okay. I should probably look at your cuts.” She stands awkwardly at the other end of the kitchen, looking as uncomfortable as I feel.
It feels wrong how we’re acting like strangers with each other and also, oddly right. We’re together. In the same room, talking.
“Do you have a first aid kit or antiseptic wipes and ointment?” She walks toward me and I step back.
“I stink, seriously.” I don’t say so, but that’s why I kept my distance in the back of the car. “That jail was rank. I need a shower and clean clothes. I’ll bring down the first aid kit when I come back, and you can play Claire Temple.”
“Claire who?” She cocks her head to the side and frowns.
I can’t help but smile. “Luke Cage…the comics. Claire is a nurse and a romantic interest for Luke.”
“Sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her smile is brittle, and I cringe at my poor attempt to lighten the mood.
“Don’t worry. I’ll bring you into the twenty-first century.” I wink and leave for my shower, returning about twenty minutes later with the first aid kit.
“Eva, I think I’m fine. I’m clean and my cuts aren’t bad.”
I want to add that Miguel’s hits were weak at best, but I don’t. I was more hurt when I discovered he’d been married to Eva than any punch he could throw.
“But you’re swollen.” She walks over to me, pushing onto her toes and lightly pressing her fingers against my scruffy jaw.