Play Mine: Rockstar Romantic Suspense (Brooklyn Dawn Book 3)

by Cari Quinn

“Is there a reason you needed it on vibrate?”

  “Is there a reason you’re asking?”

  My shoulders tightened as Teagan turned on her heel and headed for the bathroom. Christ, I didn’t know what to say. We hadn’t had the whole ‘who are we telling’ conversation. Not that we’d been especially careful at the club last night.

  The door slammed.

  Shit.

  “We can talk about the fact that you two are boning later.”

  “Dude.”

  “You didn’t say no. I have bigger problems. I need you to come get me and bring your checkbook.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I don’t think they take credit cards or Apple Pay.”

  “Who doesn’t?”

  “Brooklyn PD.”

  “Say what now?”

  “I tried to call Oz, but he hung up on me. Said he was busy.”

  I rubbed my hand along the back of my neck. “Did you tell him what it was about?”

  “He didn’t give a shit, he was naked.”

  I was too, but it didn’t seem prudent to own up to that right then. “I thought you were only supposed to get one phone call?”

  Zane sighed. “I may have sweet-talked the chick who did my fingerprints. Fingerprints, fucking hell.”

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d heard Zane so keyed up. He was the one we went to for Zen.

  “Okay, calm down.”

  “I’m in fucking jail. And I can’t—the night is a blur, man. I can’t calm down. I just gotta get out of here. My head is fucking splitting. I had two freaking drinks. I don’t understand how this could happen.”

  “Okay, okay. We’ll figure it out.”

  Zane’s voice lowered to a whisper. “I officially have a goddamn jacket. Lila is gonna kill me. Don’t tell her, man. I just need you to get me out of here.”

  Zane really had to stop watching crime shows on Netflix. Jacket? Christ. And the mere fact that he didn’t think Lila Crandall, knower of all things, wasn’t going to figure this out showed just how screwed he was.

  “Right. I’ll be right there.”

  “Thanks, man. Don’t tell Teagan, okay? I don’t want her to think I’m an asshole.”

  I sat up, swinging my feet to the floor. “She’s gonna find out.”

  “Yeah, but after I figure out some stuff. Fuck, man. I just… Please, okay?”

  I raked my fingers through my hair. “I’ll see you as soon as I can.”

  “Really. Don’t tell her.”

  “Fuck, Zane. How do you think I’m going to get out of here and not tell her?”

  “You’ll think of something.” There was a muffled sound. “Look, I gotta go.”

  “Oh, wait. Which,” I lowered my voice, “precinct?”

  He rattled off the name of the station, and I scribbled it on the notebook I kept in my bedside drawer. I hung up and Googled the address before shoving the notebook back in the drawer.

  “What was that about?”

  I looked up to find Teagan in the doorway, with her hair wet and the tiniest damn towel known to my collection around her curvy body. I groaned and crossed to her.

  She held up a hand. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “Zane is embarrassed. He doesn’t want me to tell you.”

  She nibbled the corner of her lip. “Why? Doesn’t he think he can trust me?” Those freaking bluebell eyes were wide and shiny with hurt.

  “Don’t be like that, Teag. I can’t tell you. I promised.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and stepped back. “Is that so?”

  “Yeah. It’s nothing bad.” Ish. Oh, just jail. The shit I did for friends. “Besides, Noah would literally kick my ass if I took you.”

  She lifted her chin, her eyes narrowed. “If it’s too dangerous for me, it’s too dangerous for you.”

  I laughed. “I’m an ex-Ranger.”

  “So?” She stabbed her finger into my chest. “You haven’t been a Ranger for a long time.”

  “I still can take care of myself, even if Chuckles doesn’t think so.” I grabbed her hand before she could pull back. “I promise I’ll be right back. I just gotta…pick him up. I don’t know how long it will take.” I pulled her hand up to my shoulder and slid my arms around her, my fingers going to the very short hem of the towel. “When I get back we can—”

  She lifted her knee and missed my dick by millimeters.

  I covered my dick with my hand. “Goddammit, Teagan.”

  “We can do nothing, because you aren’t getting your hands on me again until I find out what’s going on.”

  “You can be mad at me.”

  “Oh, gee, thanks for the permission.”

  I rubbed my hands over my face. “I’ll make it up to you when I get back.”

  “Good luck with that one, buddy.”

  “Just please stay here, okay? He’s in a tough spot, and I gotta get over there now.” I tried my luck and slid my hand around her waist again, keeping my dick out of harm’s way. “I’ll get him to tell you. Hell, he’s going to have to tell everyone, but he’s just messed up, okay?” I lowered my mouth to hers. “I’ve known the dude for years. I’ve never seen him like this.”

  “We’re family. Why won’t he tell me?”

  “Pride, babe. Guys are assholes.”

  “Yeah, you are.”

  I moved in a little closer, my hand slipping a little lower to her firm ass. “Don’t be mad.”

  “If you think this is how we’re going to end fights, you’re very mistaken.”

  “C’mon. It’s working a little, right?”

  Her lips twitched. “No.”

  I lowered my mouth to her neck and inhaled my soap and shampoo. It never smelled that good on me. “Don’t be mad.”

  “You’re just saying that so you get laid when you get back.”

  I straightened. “It is a perk, but I really don’t want to ruin any of this. And we gotta talk when I get back.”

  She frowned. “Why?”

  “We have to figure out how we’re going to handle this with the others.”

  “Handle what?”

  “The fact that that’s your answer says we have a ton to talk about.”

  She lifted her cross and sawed it back and forth on the chain. “I don’t know what this is yet, Cooper.”

  The arrow was swift and sharp. I just needed to give her some time to catch up, that was all. Maybe it was good that we spent a few hours apart. I needed to get me and my dick in line. Teagan wasn’t just a quick tumble. She was my best friend and the love of my goddamn life.

  Even if she hadn’t quite realized it yet.

  I dropped a quick kiss on her mouth. “We’ll talk about it when I get back. I need a quick shower.”

  Not that I wanted to wash her off my skin, but I didn’t want to be that obvious when I saw Zane. Any more obvious than I was already, anyway.

  We were both fucked, just in different ways. And my sentence was for life.

  Eleven

  Finding my way to the police department was easy. Getting to see Zane, not so much.

  There was an endless amount of paperwork and waiting around. My hope to get him out of there within two hours was a freaking joke.

  Not like the cops were in a rush to help a guy out.

  And the police department was a far cry from what was portrayed on television. It looked more like an office with rickety cubicles and an incessant ringing phone that never seemed to be answered.

  I’d also been fighting with said paperwork so long that I felt like I was the one in jail. I hadn’t even talked to Zane yet. Supposedly, going through the bail process was faster than getting visitation.

  I had my doubts.

  “We have certain practices and procedures here.”

  “I understand that, ma’am. I’m not trying to be difficult.”

  I resisted the urge to slam my forehead against the Plexiglas partition. A bored woman with a far too tight ponytail shoved papers at me.


  “I have the money in my account.”

  “We don’t take checks. You can use one of these bail bonds company’s numbers.”

  “Can’t I just go to the bank? Do you take cash?”

  “No.”

  “Certified check?”

  “That’s a check, correct?”

  I laced my fingers at the back of my head so I wouldn’t reach through and strangle her. “You don’t make it easy.”

  “Easiest way to avoid this situation is to not get arrested, sir.”

  “I’ll let him know for next time.”

  She lifted tired eyes from the paperwork she was stamping with some ridiculously official-looking seal. The chomp sound as it slammed through the papers made my head throb. Wasn’t everything done by computer these days?

  I took the pamphlets and sat down. Three of them looked sketchy as hell and the fourth looked more like an advertisement for a daycare.

  All my instincts said to call Lila. She was our manager and equipped to handle this crap. The only cops I’d ever encountered were at a bar when I was buying them a drink. And okay, maybe Army cops when we were too rowdy on base, but that was more like a drunk tank and a smack on the back of the head in the morning kind of deal.

  Many smacks via Noah in those days.

  “Noah.” I propped my elbows on my knees and groaned. We were going to get so much shit for this. In fact, I wasn’t sure how they didn’t know yet. Zane’s detail should have been following him around.

  As it was, I shouldn’t have left Teagan alone at my place. Not that anyone could get past the security in my building.

  With all this bullshit, I’d end up with a bodyguard up my ass again. I wasn’t even sure where Cole had been last night when we’d left the club, but if we’d gotten a one-night reprieve, I doubted it would be happening again.

  “What a clusterfuck.” I dug out my phone and winced at the text I’d missed.

  Lila checking in on Teagan.

  Wrong bandmate in trouble, ma’am.

  I sighed and called RoseHill Bail. An hour later, I’d practically sold a kidney, but the paperwork was rolling. Once I’d gotten past Bail Matron Betty and her inch-high stack of forms to sign, they finally brought me back to the holding cell. I still had to go to the bail bond place, but luckily, it was right across from the precinct.

  There were many locks and many security checks. Finally, I followed the officer down a long corridor to a room. No bars in sight. I probably shouldn’t be disappointed, but it looked more like a depressing waiting room than a jail. It was just a windowless concrete box. The steel door had a skinny window.

  Zane was prowling the small space like a pissed off cat. I definitely couldn’t compare him to another more impressive animal because he looked like he’d been dragged behind a car.

  He spotted me and stopped in his tracks. “What took you so long?”

  “Good to see you too, Z.”

  “I’m sorry, man. I’m just going crazy.” He jammed his fingers into the already spiked bedhead situation he called hair. There was a wide stripe of black along one cheek, and was that eyeliner? Or a shiner? His usual black jeans had some sort of substance on them I didn’t really want to identify. It was an unhealthy baby puke color mixed with brown chunks.

  Oh, and he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

  The officer pointed to a room with a dingy metal table bolted to the floor. “Sir, please go into that room so I can bring in the prisoner.”

  “Prisoner?” Zane’s voice was shrill.

  I went inside and sat down. He brought in Zane, his hands cuffed in front of him.

  “Is that really necessary?”

  The cop didn’t answer me. Instead, he just hooked him to the table with a parting, “No touching.” Then he went to stand by the door.

  “Sorry, bud. Kisses later.”

  “Fuck off.”

  I gave him a hard look.

  He blew out a breath. “Sorry.”

  “What the hell happened to you?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I frowned. “Pardon?”

  He lowered his voice. “I woke up here with no wallet and a number on my hand.” The cuffs jerked in the short ring as he flashed his palm at me with a smudged seventy-three scrawled in huge lettering, which happened to match his blackened fingertips. However, I was pretty sure those were courtesy of the Brooklyn PD.

  He seemed to notice the ink on his fingertips and curled his fingers into a fist. “Fingerprinted like a common criminal.” He rattled the cuffs. “And these. Everything hurts, and my head feels like a piece of rebar was shoved through my brain.”

  “Well, you had to be arrested for something.”

  “I can’t remember actually doing anything.”

  “Why didn’t you call Lila? She would have had you out of here way before I managed to. Do you know what I had to do to get you out of here?”

  “I’m getting out?”

  I rolled my eyes. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

  “I’m sorry.” He tried to rub his head and was stopped by the cuffs. Resignation moved over his face. His usual chill demeanor was nowhere in sight. He was tense and obviously hurting. “Yes, thank you. I’ll pay you back.”

  I had a feeling that showing sympathy wasn’t exactly the right way to go right now. I wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t turn into a blubbering mess, and I was not here for that in the least. “Damn right. I could have sold a kidney on the black market for what they asked for.”

  Zane winced, but his spine straightened. “I don’t care. I’ll pay it. But I’m getting out of here, right?”

  “They’re processing you.”

  He tipped his head back. “Thank God.”

  “You have five minutes.”

  He glanced over his hunched shoulder at the cop. “He just got here.”

  Stoneface just stared straight ahead again.

  I leaned in, my voice little more than a murmur. “What the hell did you do? That bail was not a drunk and disorderly.” I glanced at the cuffs. “I’m pretty sure those aren’t either.”

  Zane banged his head on the table. “Grand larceny. Also, something is wrong with my back. I might have gotten in a fight or something.”

  “What the hell?” I wasn’t sure Zane had even lifted a candy bar in his lifetime. And Mr. Zen didn’t fight.

  “I stole a Lambo.”

  “Jesus, Zane.”

  “Time’s up.”

  “What, no, it can’t be.” Zane’s eyes darted around, panic vibrating off him.

  “Fuck.” I stood. “Look, they said you should be out of here in a few minutes. I have to go sign something at the bail bond place, but I’ll be right back.”

  “You can’t leave me.”

  I gripped his shoulder, and then immediately released him when the cop moved forward.

  Stoneface nodded to the door.

  “I’ll be right back, and we can get you out of here. Then you can tell me everything.”

  Defeated, his shoulders sagged as the cop unlocked him from the table.

  “Don’t take too long, man. I can’t take much more of this place.”

  It wasn’t like it was one of the pits I’d been in Fallujah, but I suspected telling him that wouldn’t be helpful. “I promise. I’ll get it done as quickly as possible.”

  For the record—no pun intended—it definitely wasn’t quick. Three hours later, I finally got him out of the actual cell—aka study hall for all intents and purposes.

  The door opened and he strode out, rubbing his fingers over his wrists.

  I frowned at how raw his skin was.

  But then I had six feet of not altogether fresh-scented Zane attacking me in a bear hug.

  “Okay, buddy.” I patted his back. “We’re almost done.”

  “Can’t we just go?” He dropped his arms, staring longingly at the double doors leading to the street.

  “Afraid not. They kinda like their money first.”

  We
were still waiting on paperwork, but at least he could sit with me in the hall minus the handcuffs.

  “We need to call Lila. And speaking of Ripper, where is your detail?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “That seems to be all you’re saying.”

  “Last night is a total void. I woke up with no wallet, no phone, facedown in that holding room. I tried to ask questions, but the cops weren’t too happy to talk to me. I may have resisted arrest.” He brought his hand up to his eye and gingerly dabbed at it.

  I was wordless.

  I wasn’t exactly the talkative one in our group, but this was beyond comment. I had so many questions my brain was going to freaking explode.

  “Thank God Noah made us memorize phone numbers.”

  “You actually did that?” I was pretty sure I was hardwired not to listen to Noah lately.

  “Yeah. I used it as a meditating exercise.”

  “Of course you did.”

  He shrugged and stared at his palm. “I have no memory of last night, or why I have this number on me.” He raked his hands through his hair, giving up when his fingers got stuck. “To be honest, I don’t remember anything after we were celebrating the show. Not even flashes of memory.”

  I frowned. “None?”

  He shook his head. “I had two drinks, maybe three if you count the beer Oz handed me right after we got off stage. There is no way I got obliterated enough to steal a goddamn Lamborghini. I don’t even like Lambos. They are fucking ugly.”

  I couldn’t argue there. I was an American muscle car guy. The drink thing made my neck itch though. “Could someone have slipped you something?”

  His brows snapped together. “Do you think?”

  “Two drinks seems pretty suspect. Did a chick try to pick you up?”

  He shrugged. “I chatted with a few at the club, but no one in particular. I was sitting with you guys most of the night.”

  “Okay. Doesn’t mean you couldn’t have been slipped anything.”

  “I had a beer—bottled. I remember because the bartender tried to give me a frosted mug, but I can’t be bothered with that crap.”

  “Yeah, I hear that.” I was a bottle guy too, save for a good bourbon. Both my old man and my team had been dark liquor drinkers. Even living in New York for as long as I had, there were some things that just couldn’t be unlearned.