Sweet Arrest

By: Jordyn Tracey


"I was with him last night. We watched a movie.” She nodded toward the only indulgence she allowed herself, her collection of five hundred DVD movies. “He left really late."

He stared until she shifted under his scrutiny. He didn't believe her. How could she lie? But what else was she going to do? She needed time to sort out what was happening. She had no alibi. What was she thinking?

"The man from outside?” he finally said. A flip through his notebook with too much drama set her teeth on edge. “Ah, yes. John. The one who said he thought you would give him a try."

She was going to throw up. With any luck, the acid from her stomach would eat away his good looks and make him a lonely ugly man the rest of his life. Get a grip, A'isha.

"Don't move.” He pointed his pen at her and left the room. The slam of the front door a second later made her jump. Chewing off her thumb nail, she crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the coffee table, facing her collection. Would he ask what they watched? Or would John even get that she needed him as an alibi?

Regret sapped her of energy. If John did stand in, then what? He might want to go out with her, but she didn't feel the same shortness of breath and tingles in her nether regions when he stared at her ass or boobs. Panic rose in her chest, squeezing her heart. Tears clouded her vision.

She jumped to her feet and ran up the steps to land on her knees at the base of the toilet. Not having eaten that morning, she dry hacked, a sensation like rubber bands around her head weakening her further.

"Mr. Stanton's probably there, wondering where I am, why the bakery's not open.” She stood wiping her mouth and then washed at the sink, brushing her teeth. Bending to swallow down some water to ease the ache in her throat, she didn't realize he had stepped into the bathroom until she stood up and caught his reflection in the mirror.

He was too close, or her bathroom was too small. The heat of his body set her aflame. She had no business whatsoever of wanting him. And for all she knew he was ready to slap the cuffs on. Please, don't let me throw up in front of him. Her head dropped, too heavy to hold up, her chin digging into her chest. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry!

"He collaborates your story, Ms. Greene, but if I confirm that you lied—and I know you're both lying—I will arrest you."

"I had no reason to hurt Cammie!” she screamed. “Why don't you get out of my house, and go find the real killer?” She turned to confront him, a mistake. In the limited space, her hip brushed his groin. Electricity threatened to send her back down to her knees, not a good place considering she would be level with his dick. When she caught herself by the edge of the sink, she could almost read his lightning fast mind coming to the same conclusion. He didn't seem displeased with the prospect.

He produced a card from his wallet. “Here's my card. Call me if you have anything to add to what you've told me. And I will be calling when I have more questions.” He nodded and was gone.

A'isha didn't move. The horror of the situation she was in paralyzed her. Maybe she should call a lawyer. Mentally, she searched her house for the yellow pages and then slumped against the wall. Her credit cards were maxed out, her bank account held about eleven dollars, and if the police didn't clear her immediately to reopen her bakery, she couldn't even make her mortgage payment.

"What am I going to do?” She trod into her bedroom and picked up the phone while squinting at Detective Pierce's card. She just needed to ask a question. His voice wasn't that sexy and deep. “Detective Connor? It's me, A—"

"A'isha.” He cleared his throat. “Ms. Greene. Yes?"

She stared at the floor. At least here in her room, the carpet was nice, a deep purple frieze. Except that it required a matt under her computer chair. Indentions in that caused her to roll where she didn't want to roll when she sat at the desk. She shook her head, snapping her mind back to the detective. “I was wondering if or when my shop would be allowed to open again. I can't afford to be closed for any length of time."

He sighed. “It may take a couple days at least. We need to be sure we have collected all evidence. After that, you will have to hire someone to come out and clean up. A crime scene isn't something for the average person to handle."

Top Books