Real Sexy (Real Dirty Duet #2)(7)

"I know this isn't the appropriate time or place for this observation, but he is one fine-as-hell man."

It's on the tip of my tongue to say and you haven't even seen him naked, when I realize I haven't seen him fully naked either. Not important, Ripley. First, you get his ass out of the jail cell your lying bitch of a cousin put him in, and then you get to see that ass naked.

We both watch as the recording plays on the screen without sound. It's clear that Boone and Brandy have words, and I wish we could hear them.

"He looks pissed," Hope whispers, the concern in her voice coming through loud and clear.

"He would never hit her." To myself, I add, Unless I've completely and totally misjudged him.

No. I don't believe that. Not for a second.

"If you say so, I trust you."

But she doesn't have to take my word for it because we watch the rest of the recording, and it ends with Boone walking out of the bar without laying a finger on her. Hell, he even gave her money, which means we could argue that he bought and paid for Esteban. Not that she deserves another dime.

"That lying skank!" Hope shoots up from her crouch behind me and paces. "What are we going to do?"

I glance at my friend, with her hands balled into fists like she'd like to beat the crap out of Brandy herself. "I need to tell Anthony. They have to get the recording to the police."

"Who is Anthony again?"

"Boone's head of security."

"Okay. Makes sense. Then what?"

"Then Boone gets out of jail, and I figure out what I'm going to do about Brandy."

"She should be the one arrested."

I'm not about to disagree with Hope on that one.



* * *



It's a long, sleepless night, because even though I tried to contact Anthony, his phone went straight to voice mail and he never returned my messages. Same with Boone's, although that doesn't surprise me. It's not like they let you have cell phones in lockup.



       
         
       
        

I toss and turn on the futon, wondering if the fancy partner Law works for has managed to get Boone out yet, or whether he's going to be in there all night. He hasn't called me, so I'm assuming that means nothing good has happened.

Unless he decided he's done with me because my crazy-ass cousin got him arrested.

The shaft of pain that stabs through me at that thought almost takes my breath away. He wouldn't just never contact me again, right? No. Of course not. I tell myself to settle down, but one thing can't be denied.

I'm not ready to be done with him.

That fact alone scares me because I've gotten more attached to Boone than I realized. He and I live in two different worlds, and just because we found some common ground doesn't mean that it's going anywhere.

Except . . . isn't that what he said he wanted? To see where this goes?

When sunlight streams through the cracks in the drapes, the sounds of Hope waking up filter through the small apartment. I hear her curse in the kitchen before she shuffles into the living room, a hand covering her mouth as she yawns.

"I totally forgot to get more coffee yesterday, so we're out. I'm gonna run down to the shop on the corner. You want some?"

After the sleepless night I had, I need an IV drip of caffeine. "That sounds amazing."

"Caramel latte with an extra shot sound good?"

"Heavenly."

"I'll be right back. You can take the first shower while I'm gone, if you want."

"Thank you for being so awesome." I reach out and grab Hope's hand.

"That's what friends are for." She squeezes my fingers and presses a kiss to my head.

After Hope shoves her feet into shoes and slips out of the apartment, I roll off the futon and check my phone for the fiftieth time, even though it hasn't made a sound.

I head for the bathroom with it clutched in my hand. I have to get in touch with Anthony ASAP. If Boone is still in jail . . . It makes me sick to think about it. If I don't hear from Anthony within the hour, I'll go straight to the police myself to get Boone out.

Decision made, I let the stream of water soak my hair as my mind drifts to Brandy and how she looked last night. I knew there was something screwed up about her caked-on makeup. It's not the first time I've seen Brandy use a load of concealer around her eye and cheekbone, but when I asked in the past, I'd get a lethal stare in return. I always assumed some shitty guy she hooked up with had smacked her around, and I couldn't help but pity her. She knew she always had a place to stay with me, but she didn't use it.

I think that's why I waited so long to confront her about skimming from the till. Even though she's a pain in my ass and can make my life hell, I've always felt bad for Brandy. Her dad was never in the picture, and from the little she told me about how things were in Memphis, my aunt wasn't exactly mother of the year.