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“Excuse me.” I scowl. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m not finished, Miss Johnson.” His voice vibrates low and full of warning.
“Maybe not, but I am. So, get your foot out of my door, or you will be hearing from my attorney.”
He laughs. It’s a mock laugh, but he fucking laughs at me all the same. I know exactly why too. He thinks because I live in this shitty little apartment in this lower-class part of town that I don’t have an attorney, and even if I did, I couldn’t possibly afford a good one. And he is right, but I work for one and if I have to name-drop to get this asshole out from my door, I will.
“And who might that be?” He laughs again. It’s evil and menacing and solidifies my earlier intuition that this man is not a good cop.
“Roman Judge,” I answer, raising my chin towards him. “In fact, I work for him.”
“Judge?” he questions me, but it’s not really a question. I can see the blood drain from his face as it drops, and then he shakes his head. “Now, why would a girl like you be working for a man like Judge?” He cocks his brows at me, looking suspiciously.
“How about you wait here while I give him a call? He will be more than happy to answer any questions you may have for me or my brother.” I pull out my phone from the back pocket of my jeans and scroll to his number, holding it up to the detective's face.
He removes his foot from the door and steps back. “That won’t be necessary. You just tell your brother it’s in his best interest that he calls me.” He glares at me with his intimidating eyes, but something tells me by the way he is backing off and walking away, he’s no match for Roman, and he knows it.
I stare at Roman’s name on my phone screen, contemplating whether to call him or not. Something is off about this cop. I know it. I feel it. Yet I don’t want to ask for Roman’s help again. I owe him enough, and the last thing I want is to look like the damsel in distress, once again. My head battles with what I know I should do and what I don’t want to admit.
Rubbing my face with frustration, I place the card in my bag and push the fear and unsettling in my stomach deeper down. I can handle this on my own.
I sit up straight in my bed when I hear the front door click and then footsteps, but exhale in relief when I hear Austin’s bedroom door close. That friggin detective has me on edge. Looking at the clock on my nightstand, it’s two am. Flinging the sheets back, I get out of bed and go to Austin’s room. When I open the door, he is lying on his bed with his eyes closed. The light is still on and so are his shoes.
“Austin!” I huff. “Where the hell have you been all day?”
He rubs his face with his hands and grunts at me. “I was at work.”
“Bullshit! It’s two in the morning, Austin.”
“It was Pat’s birthday, so he had a little party at his house after work.” He yawns. “God, chill out. Why the hell are you so uptight?”
“You have a phone, so start using it and messaging me when you’re out. I had no idea where you were. And do you care to tell me why I had a detective come by the apartment, asking about you and the company you keep?”
Austin sits up, his long legs hanging over the side of the bed. “Who?”
“He left a card. I leave the room to retrieve it, then return, handing the card to him. He looks at it like it might combust into flames in his hand.
Furrowing his brows, he looks up at me. “I don’t know. I swear, I have not done anything, and I’ve stayed away from the club.”
I sigh, frustrated. “Well, he asked you to call him.”
“No way. I am not calling him.” He tosses the card on the bed. “I bet the cops want me to be an informant or something for them, and I’m not getting involved.”
I pick up the card and toss it back at him. “This is serious, Austin. You can’t ignore them.”
“Jesus, Indie. Can we not talk about this now? I am beat.” He starts to take off his shoes. “Turn the light off on your way out, will you?”
“I can’t believe your acting so casual about this. What’s wrong with you?”
Austin groans, laying back onto the bed and closes his eyes. “Right now, your what’s wrong with me. I’m tired. Let me sleep.”
I relent, being too tired myself to continue arguing with him.
“Fine!” I hiss on my way out of his room. “Let’s just sweep this under the carpet along with all our other problems, Austin.” I flick off the light and slam the door.
Chapter Twenty-five
Roman
