Page 109 of Keeping Score

“I will,” I told him adamantly.

“I mean it. You’re not there, I’m not waiting for you.”

“Yeah, Liam. I got it,” I said, irritated.

But I couldn’t blame him for being panicked, because it was the same for me. I understood his desperate need to get to his lady, because no matter how much he thought Cassie meant to him—

Maggie meant just as much to me.

And I was going to go get her.

Liam burst into the jail like a bull in a china shop, ready to demolish anyone standing in the way of his goal.

I knew we had to be more sensible, unless we wanted to get thrown in there right beside them for unruly behavior or whatever type of crap they tried to pin on us if we made trouble tonight.

Smiling politely, I tried to greet the clerk by telling them who we were there for, but Liam had other plans.

“Cassie Brynn,” he said, leaning forward intently. “I’m here for my wife.”

“And Maggie Brynn.” I shoved him out of the way with a frown.

The officer at the front desk peered at us with interest, eyes widening as realization struck.

“You boys play for the Harbor Wolves, don’t you?” The man was a little older, voice thick with the Boston accent that Maggie denied existed but anyone not raised in the city could hear from a mile away. “You look bigger in person, somehow.”

He paused to laugh, probably chuckling at the irony of the players he’d just watched on the small television screen in the corner of his desk now standing in front of him, here to bail out their partners.

“You wouldn’t mind if I get a picture, would you?” he said, already standing and coming around the desk. “My son will never believe it.”

Oh, great.

We didn’t have time for this. Not when Maggie was probably hungry and cold in the holding cell.

But I knew well enough that people were more likely to help out an agreeable person than one with a stick up their ass, which is why Liam was pissing me off so much.

“No,” he gritted out.

“Shut up,” I mouthed at him, sending him a glare.

He threw his head back, blinking rapidly as he tried to maintain his composure before looking back at the man in charge of Maggie and Cassie’s fates.

“Fine. But we have to make it quick.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, wobbling over to us. “Hey, Steve. Get off your ass and come take a picture of me.”

“What?” a voice called from the back office. “Why the hell do I want to take a picture of you?”

Steve, in all his near elderly glory, appeared with an expression of irritation that instantly transformed into one of awe at the sight of us.

“Holy smokes,” he let out a whistle. “There’s something you don’t expect to see on a Tuesday evening.”

“Right,” the first man said, handing over his cellphone before making his way to stand with us, “so take my phone and snap the picture, would you?”

He was tall himself. Almost as tall as me, and just a few inches shorter than Liam. He stood between us, wrapping his arms around us both as if we were his sons and he was posing for the family Christmas card.

Liam muttered something under his breath, and I wanted to pinch his arm at the way he deadpanned the camera.

His lack of enthusiasm when meeting fans wouldn’t do him any favors if the photo leaked, but then again, neither would the picture of us standing in jail, so I guess it was a wash either way.