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I gripped his shoulder, and then immediately released him when the cop moved forward.
Stoneface nodded to the door.
“I’ll be right back, and we can get you out of here. Then you can tell me everything.”
Defeated, his shoulders sagged as the cop unlocked him from the table.
“Don’t take too long, man. I can’t take much more of this place.”
It wasn’t like it was one of the pits I’d been in Fallujah, but I suspected telling him that wouldn’t be helpful. “I promise. I’ll get it done as quickly as possible.”
For the record—no pun intended—it definitely wasn’t quick. Three hours later, I finally got him out of the actual cell—aka study hall for all intents and purposes.
The door opened and he strode out, rubbing his fingers over his wrists.
I frowned at how raw his skin was.
But then I had six feet of not altogether fresh-scented Zane attacking me in a bear hug.
“Okay, buddy.” I patted his back. “We’re almost done.”
“Can’t we just go?” He dropped his arms, staring longingly at the double doors leading to the street.
“Afraid not. They kinda like their money first.”
We
were still waiting on paperwork, but at least he could sit with me in the hall minus the handcuffs.
“We need to call Lila. And speaking of Ripper, where is your detail?”
“I don’t know.”
“That seems to be all you’re saying.”
“Last night is a total void. I woke up with no wallet, no phone, facedown in that holding room. I tried to ask questions, but the cops weren’t too happy to talk to me. I may have resisted arrest.” He brought his hand up to his eye and gingerly dabbed at it.
I was wordless.
I wasn’t exactly the talkative one in our group, but this was beyond comment. I had so many questions my brain was going to freaking explode.
“Thank God Noah made us memorize phone numbers.”
“You actually did that?” I was pretty sure I was hardwired not to listen to Noah lately.
“Yeah. I used it as a meditating exercise.”
“Of course you did.”
He shrugged and stared at his palm. “I have no memory of last night, or why I have this number on me.” He raked his hands through his hair, giving up when his fingers got stuck. “To be honest, I don’t remember anything after we were celebrating the show. Not even flashes of memory.”
I frowned. “None?”
He shook his head. “I had two drinks, maybe three if you count the beer Oz handed me right after we got off stage. There is no way I got obliterated enough to steal a goddamn Lamborghini. I don’t even like Lambos. They are fucking ugly.”
I couldn’t argue there. I was an American muscle car guy. The drink thing made my neck itch though. “Could someone have slipped you something?”
His brows snapped together. “Do you think?”
