Scandal Never Sleeps (The Perfect Gentlemen 1)

“Gabriel . . .” Regret filled her voice. “We can’t.”

He scrubbed a hand across his tired face. “You’re right. Professional. Fine.” He steadied himself with a long breath. “Sit down, then. We have a few things to talk about.”

Finally, they were going to discuss the situation in a civilized manner. At least she hoped so. Everly was just about to sit when the door opened.

“Mr. Bond, I’m sorry.” Hilary gave the gentlemen who walked in, dressed in serviceable suits, a stern glare. “They insisted.”

The taller of the two flashed a badge. “Gabriel Bond?”

Gabriel’s jaw tightened, and he straightened his jacket. “Yes. Can we do this here?”

The police had come to see him, and he didn’t seem at all surprised. In fact, the resignation in his manner said that he’d been expecting this. She frowned.

Then the shorter detective pulled out a pair of handcuffs. Everly tried not to gasp as the detective slapped them against his thigh. “You can come down to the station willingly or we can formally arrest and charge you. The press would eat that up. But it’s your choice. Either way, I suggest you take this seriously. You’re our primary suspect in Maddox Crawford’s murder.”

“Murder?” Had she heard that right?

Maybe . . . the text and e-mail she’d received weren’t from some crackpot stirring up trouble. All the implications stole her breath. Unfortunately, she could think of a lot of people who’d wanted Maddox dead, but why would anyone think his best friend had murdered him?

Would the evidence she’d received damn or free Gabriel Bond? And how could she even know what she had or how accurate it was if she didn’t follow instructions and meet the man on Thursday?

Gabriel sent her a grin that held not an ounce of humor. “You say you’re good at your job. I hope you’re competent at all forms of security.”

Everly nodded. Her dad had been a cop. She’d grown up with a lot of his knowledge; she wasn’t merely a computer nerd. “You need protection.”

“It couldn’t hurt. Find Daxton Spencer. He’s somewhere in the building interviewing employees. Then track down Roman Calder and get them both to the precinct.” Gabe turned back to the detectives. “Gentlemen, can I take my car and meet you?”

“We have a car waiting. We wouldn’t want to inconvenience you or have you get lost along the way. We know how you rich boys sometimes mistake your private jet for the station house.”

“At least take him out the back.” Everly’s head was spinning. Above it all stood one fact: He was now the head of Crawford Industries, and since Mulford, the head of building security, was on vacation in Australia for two weeks, Everly was his stand-in. That meant she had to protect Gabriel. The company didn’t need more press right now. She didn’t know whether he had actually killed Maddox, but he was innocent until proven guilty. “Let me get an escort. I can call to the desk.”

The taller detective smirked her way. “No worries. We’ve got that handled.”

Gabriel looked back at her as they led him out. “Find Dax and call Roman ASAP.”

She nodded, staring as the detectives escorted him out of the office and headed for the elevator. The moment they’d gone, her head exploded with questions. What the hell was going on? And had she actually been sleeping with a killer?

SEVEN

Where is Gabriel Bond and is he under arrest?” Everly asked the female officer who ran the front desk at the 19th precinct for what seemed like the five hundredth time.

After Gabriel had been marched out of the office, Everly went into crisis-management mode. Despite shaking hands, she’d picked up the phone and asked Scott to find Dax Spencer while she’d used a number Hilary had for Roman Calder. She hadn’t been sure it would work. Most normal people didn’t have the White House chief of staff’s number in their contact list. She’d expected to be routed through rounds of assistants, but the man had answered on the first ring and promised to be down at the precinct as soon as possible. His no-nonsense voice said he hadn’t been shocked by her call—or the reason for it—at all.

Why hadn’t he or Gabriel seemed surprised that Gabe had practically been arrested for the murder of Maddox Crawford?

Everly braced herself against the nearby wall. What the hell did she really know about Gabriel Bond except that he was rich and very good in bed? After the nights they’d spent together, she would have sworn he wasn’t a violent soul. She also hadn’t expected him to accuse her of being Mad’s mistress or seducing him for her own gain, so clearly, she didn’t know anything about him.

She blew out a breath. Later. Her job had to come first. Gabriel needed her to come through. So did Crawford Industries.

“Ma’am, as I explained to you before, I’m not allowed to give out information to anyone but his lawyer. Are you his lawyer?” The very matter-of-fact woman stared a hole through her. She definitely wasn’t going out of her way to be helpful. And since she controlled the door between the entrance and the rest of the building, Everly had been sidelined here. But she wasn’t giving up without a fight.

“Yes. Yes, I am his lawyer.” If lying got her through, she would give it a try.

The guard rolled her eyes. “No, you’re not. When you first arrived, you told me you were his employee. Go back to the office and send his lawyer.”

“I’m—” Both, she started to say.

“She’s good,” a man said, approaching a wall of glass dividing the reception area from the inside of the station. He stared, and Everly wondered who he was and how he’d go

tten admitted to the station’s inner sanctum. “And it looks like Mr. Bond’s lawyer is here. I would love it if you could let him in.”

With a loud whoosh, the door behind her opened and a familiar man strode in, dressed in what had to be several thousand dollars’ worth of designer suit. He carried a leather briefcase, and as he stepped in from the street, flashbulbs burst everywhere and the rumble of shouts from outside filled the place.

“Damn.” The woman at the front desk shook her head and picked up the phone. “We’re going to need some crowd control at the front of the building, and tell Johnson and Klein that I’m going to kick their asses. Their stupidity for bringing Bond in so publicly is now my problem. They’re going to pay.”

The man in the suit stepped forward with confidence. “My name is—”

“I know your name, Mr. Calder.”

Roman smiled tightly. “Very good. I’m Gabriel Bond’s lawyer.”