Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 95676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
"Yes," I say, folding my hands together in my lap.
He grabs our food, tucks two beers under his arm, and strolls toward me. Only when he's settled in the bed beside me, our food spread out around us, does he start filling me in on what to expect.
"I talked to Octavio," he says, handing me a spoon. "He's been working the case for LAPD. He agrees with me that you didn't do this."
"That's good," I murmur, relieved that someone else believes me.
"That is good," Cam agrees, "but it doesn't help us much. He's not the lead investigator anymore."
"Oh. Why not?"
"Because Clark died in San Francisco."
I frown, not sure why that matters.
"They have jurisdiction over the body, so it's officially San Francisco's case now," he says before I can ask for an explanation. "Octavio will turn over all the evidence to them, and they'll file any charges. The prosecuting attorney will then decide whether they have a case or not."
"Us," I say.
He cocks a brow at me in silent question.
"You should have said us, not them. You work for San Francisco."
"I do," he says, taking a swig from his beer. "But this isn't my case, kitten. Even if I weren't seeing you, it wouldn't be my case. He didn't die in my district, and I'm not assigned the case."
"I know," I mumble, stirring my rice. "But when you say it like that, like you're separate, it feels like you're trying to distance yourself from your job for me. I don't want you to feel like you have to do that. You're a cop. You can't change that."
"I don't want to change it."
"That's not what I mean. I mean…it feels like you're distancing yourself from your job to make me feel better, and you shouldn’t feel like you have to do that for me. You're a cop and I'm a teacher."
"Not sure what you're getting at."
I glance over at him, meeting his gaze. "I'm saying…I guess I'm saying that if you're all in, I am too. I can't promise I'm not going to worry that being with me might screw up your career, because I am worried about it. I don't want to be the reason you lose something that's so important to you, but our relationship doesn't have anything to do with the case, so I'm not going to hold back because of it anymore. I'm all in."
"Yeah?" he asks, his expression softening.
"Yeah." I nod. "Whether you're a cop or a gigolo, I'm in."
He leans over and kisses me hard on the mouth and then he pulls back, grinning. "A gigolo, huh?"
"Don't even pretend you don't know how hot you are," I say, rolling my eyes at him.
He grins, his dimple popping out. "You think I'm hot, huh?"
"Nope," I lie, fighting a smile. "Not in the least."
He narrows his eyes at me and growls. "Told you about that smart mouth, kitten. Don't fuck with me."
"Yeah, yeah," I mutter, rolling my eyes again. "You can fill it later."
"Remember you said that," he warns me.
I sniff and resume eating, not letting on to the fact that I'm more than willing to let him have my mouth again. "Did you tell your friend about the shop?" I ask between mouthfuls, getting back on track.
"I passed the info on to the San Francisco detective before I left town." Cam pauses to take a bite, chewing and then swallowing before he continues. "I don't know when he'll get around to following up on it. I'll go as soon as we get back to town."
"Okay."
"I want you to go with me, but I'm not sure if that'll be possible."
I freeze, my spoon hovering in mid-air.
"Octavio is waiting for an arrest warrant to be issued anytime," he murmurs, his voice soft. "Clark's parents have identified his body, and they have enough circumstantial evidence to justify an arrest, kitten."
I lower my spoon, carefully setting it in my takeout box. My stomach roils, and my mind rebels, wanting to arbitrarily reject the possibility as outlandish. But it isn't. I'm going to go to jail. I take a deep breath, striving for calm.
"Okay," I say after a moment, proud when my voice doesn't waver.
"It'll be better for you to turn yourself in," Cam says, setting his own container aside. He pulls me to him, tugging me into his lap. "The more you cooperate, the better the chance of you being granted bail."
"Okay," I say again, taking his word for it. He's the expert here, not me. "H-how much time do I have?"
He hesitates.
"Tell me."
"A day, maybe two."
A day, maybe two. I expected it but hearing him confirm my suspicion is something altogether different. A day or two isn't enough time. Not even close to it. There's an expiration date on my freedom now…and that fact is overwhelmingly terrifying.
"Talk to me," he says quietly.