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“Cheese dip. Two bowls. And four chicken tacos. A beef one too.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
Patrick
“Mr. Whitley.Is it true you solicited a federal agent for sex?”
I pushed Marlow through the throng of reporters.
“Is it true you’re seeking help for sexual addiction?”
Where the hell was the car I’d hired to take us home?
“Did you defend Heather Buchan’s brother in return for her silence?”
That woman had rained down hell on me. I made one mistake, something I could have done in Vegas legally. Now this shit.
“We’ve received word the New York Bar Association is suspending your law license. Do you plan to appeal?”
I spotted the SUV and eased Marlow in the back. The shouts and camera flashes were incessant, even when I closed us inside the car.
“We should’ve taken a back exit.” Marlow closed her eyes.
“You hurting?”
“No need to keep asking. The answer is yes.”
I rested my hand on her thigh. “If you wouldn’t have picked up that desk, you wouldn’t have to listen to my questions.”
“When are you taking off for sex rehab?” She snickered, then winced. “Do you get conjugal visits there?”
“Already missing me?”
“Didn’t you hear I’m out of commission for a few weeks?”
“Are you excited to watch me jack off? You know I do itmultipletimes a day?”
“You’re an ass.”
“So are you for what you did to me today. I’ve never felt panic like that.” And I never wanted to again.
Her hand covered mine. “Is it true? About your law license?”
“I haven’t received word. But if they nail me for something I wasn’t even charged with, they’re going to have to disbar half the association.”
“I still don’t understand why you offered someone money for sex in the first place.”
“Did you miss the part where I said I was shit-faced?”
“Did I miss the part on where you elaborated why?”
I hesitated, not enthusiastic to talk about this.
“I saw someone I hadn’t seen in a long, long time.” I leaned my head on the back of the seat.
“An old lover?”
“No.” My answer was too sharp, but I didn’t want there to be any misunderstandings.
