“Well, I can’t argue with that.”
Alvin slips his arm around my shoulders. “Did you just get here?”
“Yes. Chaser’s lawyer dropped me off.” I flick my gaze at Jacob. “The cops are looking for you.”
“Shit. Why?”
“Why do you think?”
Alvin lifts his head, throwing a glare Peter’s way. “How about you do something useful and find a lawyer for Jacob?”
“I didn’t do anything. I don’t need a lawyer.”
“Shut up.” Alvin elbows Jacob.
Peter eyes the three of us warily and it’s a good thing Alvin’s still hanging onto me because my urge to rip out Peter’s lying tongue hasn’t abated.
“What happened, Jacob?” Alvin asks once Peter slinks away.
Jacob’s gaze shifts my way. He should be worried. If he’s in any way responsible for this, I won’t hesitate to hand him over to the cops in order to save Chaser.
“Nothing. Some guy robbed us.”
“Why’d you call Chaser?” I ask.
“I called him before we got robbed. I thought he could help.”
“That’s as clear as mud.”
He gives me a helpless shrug.
Alvin leads me over to a chair in the corner. “You get any sleep last night?”
“No,” I admit.
“Let’s chill. The lawyer knows where you are, right? And the nurses know where to find us if Andrew wakes up.”
“Thanks,” I whisper, resting my head on his shoulder.
“Everything’s going to be okay, Mallory.”
I wish I believed him.
“Mrs. Lane?”
Someone touches my shoulder. “Mallory Lane?”
“What? No.” Groggy, I shake my head and search the room. Alvin’s passed out in the chair next to me. Jacob took up residence on the nubby old couch across from us. His deep snores fill the silence.
“I’m Mallory,” I finally answer.
“Andrew’s been asking for you,” a nurse in a white uniform and gentle smile says.
I jump up, jostling Alvin in the process. “Hmm. What?” he mumbles.
“Andrew’s awake?” I ask the nurse.
“The police are in there interviewing him now.” She tilts her head and studies me. “But he’s been asking for you non-stop.”
I don’t have a response. Why would Andrew ask for me over, well, anyone else?
Alvin nudges my shoulder. “Go,” he urges. “We’ll stay here.”
The nurse leads me down the hall. “Your husband’s quite the character.”
“Andrew’s not…” I open my mouth to correct her. But, what if only family members are allowed to visit him? I have to see him. He has to tell the police Chaser’s innocent. “…a fan of hospitals,” I finish.
“No one is.” Abruptly, she stops and peers inside a room. Two men in cheap suits are stuffed inside the small space, blocking my view of everything except two big feet sticking off the end of the bed.
“No,” Andrew insists. “I told you. I didn’t get a good look at the guy. He jacked my cash, shot me, and ran.” Something metal screeches against the floor. “Ow. Fuck. Get me out of here.”
“Mr. Lane.” The nurse leaves my side, rushing into the room. “Please, settle down.”
“Oh, hey. I don’t suppose you can give me a sponge bath?” Andrew asks in such a normal way, that if the two detectives weren’t still blocking my view, I bet I’d be able to see the flirty smile Andrew added to the request.
I roll my eyes toward the ceiling. Even recovering from a bullet wound, he’s ridiculous.
“Mr. Lane,” one of the detective snaps. “We’re not finished.”
“What more do you want from me?” His hand peeks out between the two detectives, fingers flicking toward the door. “Go catch the guy and let me heal. I have a show to do tonight.”
“That’s not going to happen, Mr. Lane,” the nurse says.
“Are you sure it was a stranger?” one of the cops insists. “What about Russell Adams? We heard he had plenty of reasons to shoot you.”
“Russ—Chaser? Fuck no. Why would you say that?”
Oh thank God.
“But you said you didn’t see the person who shot you,” the other detective persists.
“I said I didn’t get a good look. Never saw the guy before. Fuck, I’ve seen Chaser every day for the last three months. You think I don’t know what he looks like?”
“All right.” One of the detectives shifts and Andrew’s face comes into view. His eyes widen.
“Mallory!” He waves me into the room with frantic hand gestures. “Get me out of here.”
“Uh.” My gaze darts around the space, landing on the detectives, the nurse, and finally Andrew. He’s bandaged from waist to nipples and a few shades paler than normal, but otherwise intact. “Are you okay?”
“No. Someone shot me.”
I bite my lip to stop myself from the completely inappropriate laughter threatening to burst free.
“Did Chaser come with you?” Andrew peers around me. “Where is he?”
“He’s in jail.” I side-eye the detectives. “They arrested him for shooting you.”
“Who are you?” the crankier detective asks.
“Mallory Dove.” I nod to the nurse. “She brought me to see Andrew.” Why do I suddenly feel the need to explain myself under their scrutiny?
“Oh, shit, Mallory. I’m sorry.” Andrew glares at the detectives. “What the fuck are you bugging me for? Go let my friend out of jail, you dickwads.”
“We still need information from you, Mr. Lane.”
“Well, you’re not getting any until you let my friend out.” Obstinate as ever, he crosses his arms over his chest, then winces.
“I’m afraid I need everyone to leave,” the nurse says, pushing us toward the door.
“Mallory can stay,” Andrew protests.
I reach out and touch his arm. “I won’t go far, Andrew.”
His voice, begging me to stay, follows me down the hallway. Pay phone. Where are they when you need them?
Ah! Waiting room.
“What’s going on?” Jacob asks as I race by him.
“Give me a second.” I pull Mr. Paxton’s card and a handful of quarters from my purse.
“Is Andrew okay?” Alvin asks.
“Andrew is…Andrew,” I mutter. “Mr. Paxton, please!” I yelp as soon as his secretary answers the phone. “This is Mallory.”
“Mallory?” Mr. Paxton’s smooth voice comes over the line a few seconds later. “Is everything all right?”
“Andrew’s awake. He told the detectives Chaser didn’t do it.”
“That was fast,” he says. “Let me make some calls. Stay at the hospital. I’ll pick you up on my way to the station.”
“I’ll be right here waiting for you.” My voice trembles. “Will we get Chaser out today?”
“I’ll do my best.”
Honest, but not exactly the most reassuring answer.
Chaser
The loud clock on the wall across from my cell ticks my afternoon away.
Tonight’s show is out. Stupid thing to worry about when Andrew’s in the hospital. The whole tour is probably toast.
Hell, life as I know it might be over.
“Adams! You’re out!” the guard from earlier shouts.
The metal cot squeaks as I sit up. Any glimmer of excitement stays on lockdown until he opens the cell door. Not until he motions me into the corridor without the handcuffs does a ray of hope perk up my spirits.
&n
bsp; “Charges were dropped,” the officer informs me.
“What happened?”
He shrugs.
I’m led to a small, boxy room with no windows. A less friendly officer shoves a stack of papers at me to sign. Then tosses my wallet, lucky guitar pick, and a few sticks of gum at me. My lawyer shows up as I’m finishing. Nothing like an attorney eager to earn his whole retainer.
“What happened?” I ask since the cops won’t tell me a damn thing other than I’m “free to go”.
“Your friend woke up. Gave the detectives an earful and demanded your release. Your girl made sure I knew about it right away.”
“Where is she?”
“Outside waiting for you.”
That’s all I need to hear. I collect the rest of my stuff and head out the door with my attorney following.
The thick afternoon heat blasts my skin, a welcome relief after the cold, dark jail. Blinded by the sun, I hear Mallory rushing toward me before I actually make out her features.
“Oh my God.” She buries her head against my chest and wraps her arms around me. “I’ve been so worried…”
“I’m okay.” Fuck, it feels good to have her in my arms again.
“Chaser Adams! Did you shoot Andrew Lane?” someone shouts, breaking up our reunion.
Mallory clings tighter to me and I use my body to shield her from the intruder. Except, when I look up, there’s more than one reporter descending on us.
“Did you fight over Mallory?” someone else shouts.
“No,” I growl.
“All charges have been dropped!” my lawyer shouts back. “Mr. Adams has been exonerated by Andrew Lane himself. That’s all we have to say on the matter.” He drapes his arm over our shoulders and steers us toward a tan Volvo parked at the curb.
He opens the back door for Mallory before gesturing for me to get in the front seat. I’m so eager to get out of here, I don’t question where we’re going.
“Your father’s taken care of my fees,” he assures me as he gets behind the steering wheel. “Actually, I’ll have to refund him a portion of the retainer.” He stares at the police station. “You got lucky, son.”