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Strat just looked at her.
“Go after her!” she hollered.
“What?” he said, finally getting a clue this wasn’t good. “What the fuck did you say to her?”
“Oh my God, Strat. I didn’t say anything. She thinks we had sex!”
“What?” he asked, blinking in shock. “Why the hell does she—”
“Take a look around, Strat.”
He did and caught up fast. “Shit.” Seemed to be a lot of that sentiment going around. “Imogen!”
As he marched out of the room, she got up without a thought of showering. She just wanted to get into her clothes as fast as possible. Drama was everywhere. And this one wasn’t on her. Not exactly.
How fast could she get out of there?
Her notes were spread on the kitchen counter. They’d have to go with her. The previous night, Strat talked her through the details he remembered. Not that he remembered much. His philosophy leaned more to staying in his lane than asking questions of the trigger-happy criminals who ran the city.
Tossing her hair from her face, she rushed out of the room and ran straight into Strat’s back. He hadn’t got far. Probably because his daughter was on the opposite side of the room, gesturing wildly.
“This is disgusting,” Imogen said, throwing her arms up. “It’s wrong. Totally wrong…” She snorted. “That’s probably exactly why you want to do it. Is that what it was? The forbidden? You know she’s the cop’s sister.”
“The cop?” she said, peeking around Strat.
“My idiotic father and brother refuse to say his name,” Imogen said, then recoiled in disgust again. “Lachlan will go postal.”
“No, he won’t,” Strat said.
Imogen was still addressing her. “I’m not telling him. You’re telling him. Don’t think I’ll lie for you though. If you don’t tell him, I’ll tell him.”
“You don’t want to do that,” Strat said, his voice oddly deep. “Immie—”
“Don’t Immie me like that,” she said, gesturing between them. “This is sick.”
“Because there’s an age difference?” she asked, just curious. Strat twisted to land a glare on her and she shrugged. “I want to know.”
“Because you’re younger than me,” Imogen said. “He’s old enough to be your father.”
“He’s a better man than my father,” she said, much to the surprise of everyone in the room, including herself.
“Your father’s Police Superintendent.”
“I know who my father is,” she said, squeezing around Strat to go to the counter and gather up her notes.
“You know he’ll arrest you for something, Dad,” Imogen said. “The police superintendent. When he finds out about this, they’ll find some way to lock you up… Maybe that’s not such a bad thing. Hell, even Lach will find some loophole to put you away.”
“Who says it’s anything more than sex?” she asked, scooping her things into her satchel.
“Don’t,” Strat said.
She glanced at him for a second before looking at the dumbstruck Imogen. “If it’s just sex, my father and brother don’t have to know. You think they know every guy I ever slept with? Does Strat know every detail of your sex life?”
“Just sex,” Imogen said, still sort of on pause. “It’s just sex?”
“I’m saying it could be.”
“No, it couldn’t,” Strat said. “Nothing’s going on, sweetheart.”
