Tipsy(51)

Would they believe me?

I didn’t know and frankly, I was kind of scared to talk. I was afraid I would just make things worse. I guessed I was going to have to get a lawyer. I would probably lose my job over this.

I wanted Blue.

If Blue were here, he could vouch for me. He would believe what I said. Maybe he would convince the other guys I wasn’t lying. He could be like a character witness.

Only I didn’t know where Blue was or where he lived. Hell, I didn’t even know what kind of car he was driving. I wasn’t sure if they would let him come to the station for this; it could compromise his cover.

The headache threatening me earlier decided to add to my torment by beginning to scream behind my eyes. My stomach felt nauseous and my hands and knees were shaking from all the stress I suddenly felt.

I closed my eyes against the harsh fluorescent light overhead and leaned forward, resting my overheated forehead on the table. It was cool and felt a little soothing against my headache.

I needed a plan.

A plan would make me feel better. More in control.

Whenever the officers came back, I would make them let me go pee. Then I would demand my one phone call. I would call Dee and she could post bail (would I need bail?) and get me out of here. I would get a lawyer, who’d probably charge all of my savings just to talk to me. But I would hire him anyway. I would rather be poor than in the big house with burly women named Wilma.

After that, I would let the police question me. I would tell my story. I would stick to the truth.

The truth would set me free.

Why did that sound like the most pathetic line ever?

I took a deep breath. It was a good plan.

I turned my head and rested my cheek on the brown tabletop and stared at the wall across the room. I wondered if someone was watching me through the two-way mirror behind me. If so, they were going to be very bored.

I heard the doorknob rattle, but I didn’t bother to turn my head and look. I had no desire to see disgusted looks of the men who brought me in. Being treated like a criminal sucked. I guess that explained all the chase scenes in movies when the bad guys were running from the cops. Running was better than this.

The door flew open and all the air in the room shifted, like it was being sucked out with the force of the opening door. Fresh air from the station leaked in; it was much cooler and fresher smelling.

A string of expletives echoed around the room. Someone was good and pissed off.

I knew that voice.

I jerked upright, blinking against my headache at Blue, who was striding into the room.

“Blue,” I said, relief so palpable in my tone that I could taste it in the back of my throat.

“What the fuck is this!” he roared, throwing out his hands and turning around to face whoever was standing in the doorway. “You fucking cuffed her!”

Another voice from out in the hall, a more calm and authoritative voice, said, “Give him the damn cuff keys.” I heard the jangle of keys and saw Blue snatch them out of the air. Then behind him I heard the same voice mutter, “Idiots.”

Blue was at my side in seconds, kneeling down so we were about eye level. “Hey there, sweetness.”

I didn’t say anything because all of a sudden I felt like crying. His gentle tone meant just for me was going to be my undoing.

I had missed him. Yeah, it hadn’t been very long since our night together, but it seemed that the only time I ever got with Blue was stolen moments. Little pockets of time where he filled me up so completely but then left, leaving that fullness to drain away like a too-old battery.

Not only that, but worrying about his safety, where he was, who he was with. Not being able to talk to Dee or anyone about him. And then this… the drugs, the arrest.

He reached around behind me, looping his arms around my waist, and had the cuffs gone within seconds. My arms fell forward in my lap and my shoulders felt numb and prickly from being in the same position for so long.

Blue grabbed my wrists, rubbing them, like someone would do when they were out in the snow too long and needed to generate warmth.

“Rough night, huh?” he asked gently.

I nodded. “I have to pee.”

He chuckled. “Come on.” He stood, drawing me to my feet, and led me to the door. Two officers who had been at the salon stood in our path.

Blue angled himself in front of me. “Step aside,” he said. His words weren’t demanding or mean, but there was steel in them.

The men moved and we walked out of the tiny room. I breathed a sigh of relief. Blue walked beside me, glancing out of the corner of his eye.

“That room smelled like urine.”

He made a face and looked over his shoulder. “You put her in Potty John’s room?” he growled.

“It was the only room open!” one of the guys defended.