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TWENTY-EIGHT
Bailey
Dumb.
It was an adjective that described Matt and me. Our dynamic duo wasn’t so dynamic sometimes. Like now. We’d gone to the hotel, thinking we could grab a drink in the corner.
That was the problem.
We could not grab a drink and be incognito.
Scott was parked near the second entrance to the bar. Fitz was positioned toward the first entrance, but since he was sitting, I was supposing that was his helpful attempt at being incognito. There were two others in the lobby, but thank God they were new guys. Quinn wouldn’t recognize them—or I was hoping she wouldn’t.
But that reminded me of something. “Isn’t Quinn on house arrest?”
“No.” Matt said, as he lifted his glass for another slug.
He had the whole lounging look again, and I was noting that it worked. He looked bored, rich, and cool. I don’t know how they all correlated, but they did. It’s why there were three women eyeing him, because there were only three other women besides me in the bar. Wait. I caught the bartender eyeing him, too. Four women were eyeing him, four out of five.
“Ankle bracelet?”
“No.” Another drag from his glass.
“Why not?”
“Hmm?” Another drink. He started eyeing the redhead.
I was going to grab that glass and pour it over him in two seconds. “Hey.”
I got his attention.
“Sorry. I was slipping back to old and immature Matt. New Matt. Here. Mature Matt. What’s up?”
“Her trial is for kidnapping and murder. Why isn’t she on house arrest or wearing an ankle bracelet?”
“Because she made bail claiming she wasn’t a flight risk because of her children.”
I started wondering who we’d find coming to meet her. “You think it’s Drew Bonham again?”
Matt tensed. “No. That dickhead is on house arrest.”
“Why’d Quinn get out of it and he didn’t?”
“Because she’s a bigger profile and she’s got money. Peter’s. Better lawyers can doa lotagainst the law.”
“Bonham’s got money, too.”
“Not anymore. He’s fighting a nasty divorce. Quinn didn’t fight her divorce. She settled fast, so it looks good for her defense.” Matt shrugged, but there was a heated look in his eyes, and not a good heated look.
We had a perfect view of people coming in and out of the hotel. They had to walk past us for the elevators, but we were slouched down in order to not attract their immediate attention. I was hoping we were far enough in the back of the bar so no one would see us even if they took a second look. If they came into the bar, our shtick was up.
The hotel doors swooshed open.
A wave of cold air swept through the lobby, and I was ready for it, knowing it’d hit us in a second. The sounds of the city came in. Cars honking. A guy was yelling outside. We saw thefront desk attendant nod at someone going through… It was her!
“What the hell?” Matt was scowling, and he shot up in his seat.
He leaned forward, peering closer, and then he was out from the table.
