Page 60 of Playing with Fire

“Yes, there’s a woman in my office. No, she isn’t one of my cops. Okay. Fine.” Quinn offered me the phone. “He wants to talk to you.”

Puzzled, I took the phone and perched on the edge of Quinn’s desk. “Hello?”

A man with a deep voice chuckled. “You must be the mysterious Bailey Gardener.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I saw a picture of you with your hand in Sam’s back pocket this morning. At, if I’m not mistaken, the Plaza. I have another picture of him carrying you like a princess in his arms in front of 120 Wall Street. I was wondering when I’d get to speak with you.”

Oh boy. “It’s really not my fault this time, sir.”

The commissioner laughed. “Call me Jack, dear. I’ve already been informed of your gorgon problems, especially the one you discouraged yesterday.”

“Yippee.” I sighed.

“If you’re going to do anything nefarious with Sam that may have long-lasting repercussions, I recommend Virginia. It’s closer than Ohio and enjoys the same lax laws.” Jack hung up.

“People keep hanging up on me, Quinn.”

He took the phone out of my hand and returned it to its cradle. “It’s okay.”

“He recommends Virginia for anything nefarious we might be planning. I wasn’t aware we were planning anything nefarious, Quinn.”

Laughing, Quinn grabbed his coat and headed for the door. “Move your ass, woman. We’re going on a drive.”

“We are?”

“Yes. Move it.” Yanking open his office door, he stuck his head out into the main room. “Perkins, call Longville in. I’m leaving for the day. I need two volunteers going off shift to come with me.”

“I’m in,” Perky replied. “Calling Longville now.”

Nilman stood. “I already volunteered, sir.”

“Get your stuff. We leave in five.”

Chapter Fifteen

>Why are you wearing my clothes, Quinn?

Quinn left me at Perky’s desk long enough to change his clothes. When he returned, he had stolen my outfit. I looked down at my white top, leather jacket, and jeans the Plaza had delivered to replace my ruined clothes.

Ah-ha. Mystery solved. Quinn had been the one behind the clothes.

The sneaky bastard was probably responsible for the dress and lace lingerie, too. Sneaky, sneaky, sneaky. I’d have to reward him for his cunning later.

But first, I needed to rib the devious police chief. “Why are you wearing my clothes, Quinn?”

“You looked so good in yours I had to see if I could compare.”

And the round went to him. Spluttering, I turned to Perky and pointed at the smug police chief. “I think he’s defective. Has he ever seen my face, Perky?” I tapped my cheek to point out my scars. “Ain’t nothing pretty about this package.”

Perky laughed. “The scars look like cute little freckles, and you’re surprisingly pretty when you smile. That said, I’m going to have to side with you on this one. Chief, you don’t have to do anything to be pretty.”

In Quinn’s sigh, I heard the worn patience of a man near the end of his rope. One or two more yanks wouldn’t hurt anything, right? I flashed the cops my best smile. “He’s so much sexier in that jacket than I am. How much do you think I’d get for him if I put him up for auction?”

Perky’s laugh promised trouble for someone. “You’d get a lot more for him if you got him out of his jacket and dumped some water all over him.”

“You’re right. I would.”