“There’s no animosity between you?”
“Sure, he pisses me off all the time. Then he does something nice and makes it hard to be mad at him.”
“And what’s his relationship to Mallory?”
“Why?” I growl.
He stabs his pencil in the air. “That right there is a problem.” He leans in closer. “They’re going to try and paint this as a love triangle that got out of hand.”
“That’s pure bullshit. She’s friends with his girlfriend. They work together. The four of us hang out back in L.A. sometimes.”
“Girlfriend.” He taps his pencil against the table. “Name?”
“Pamela Scott.”
He scribbles down her name without a twitch of recognition. Guess he’s not a Playboy fan. I sit back and assess my attorney. My father chose well for being an emergency-over-the-phone situation. Guy seems serious and sharp. Two things I’ll need if there’s any hope of extracting myself from this mess.
MALLORY
Waiting around the police station while the lawyer talks to Chaser is torture.
“Miss, I’m sorry. Only his attorney’s allowed to see him right now.” The officer glances over his shoulder quickly and in a lower voice adds, “Paxton’s a good lawyer. He’ll have Chaser out by this evening.”
“I hope so.” My gaze strays behind the counter. Chaser has to be somewhere on the other side of that sad, gray cinder block wall. Pain gathers in my chest. I can’t get to him.
I drift over to an empty wooden bench and sit, watching the door for the lawyer. The second he returns, I jump up to greet him.
“How is he? When can we get him out?”
“Easy. Not here.” He takes my elbow and guides me outside. Heat simmers through my thin canvas sneakers, snaking up my legs. We cross the busy street and into a small, municipal parking lot before he’ll utter a word. “The cops have nothing. No weapon. No clear motive.”
I let out a long, slow breath. Not that I ever doubted Chaser. “What can I do?”
“He wants you to go back to the hotel.”
“And do what? Sit on my butt while he’s in jail? No.”
The corners of his mouth twitch. “I figured that would be your answer.”
“What can I do?”
“I know you said Peter’s a weasel, but can you talk to him? Flesh out why he might have pointed the cops in Chaser’s direction.”
“He’s not a big fan of mine, but I’ll do my best.” I glance over my shoulder toward the police station. “I was planning to go to the hospital next.”
He hesitates before answering. “Mallory, I need you to be honest with me. Is there anything between you and Andrew Lane?”
“God, no. Why would you ask that?”
“Because if this continues, the cops need a motive. And a love triangle between you, Chaser, and Andrew will sound nice and juicy.”
“That’s ridiculous. Chaser spends more time around Andrew than I ever have. Working,” I add just in case he has other ideas. “Andrew’s girlfriend and I work together on the same show.”
“Chaser mentioned that. The four of you are good friends?”
“Sort of. Pamela can be prickly.”
“Is there a reason for that? Is there a possibility she and Chaser…?” He lets the suggestion hang in the air, staring at me with two raised eyebrows.
It takes me a second longer than it should to understand his meaning. “No way.”
He holds my gaze.
“I understand why you have to ask, but Chaser and I…we’re close. We don’t lie to each other.” I take a moment and consider the way to phrase my next thought. “And Pamela, if she was having an affair with my boyfriend, I don’t think she’d be able to stop herself from bragging to all of Hollywood.”
He chuckles. “So, she’s that kind of person.”
“Competitive. I don’t know why, since she’s way more ahead of the game than I am.”
“Is there a reason for that?” He holds up his hand. “I believe you when you say there’s nothing going on between you and Andrew. But is it possible she’s aware of feelings Andrew has for you?”
Feelings for me? I stop and consider Andrew’s wacky behavior. His strange compliments and random moments of sweetness. His pervy questions. “Deep, specific feelings for me? No. That I’m a female he’d like to bang and add to his list? Possibly.”
“And that doesn’t bother Chaser?”
“He trusts me.” I stop and stare over his shoulder at the brick wall with faded lettering that I can’t decipher. “We haven’t been together long. But we’ve been through a lot in that short time.”
His sharp lawyer demeanor softens. “I can sense that, Mallory. Chaser’s lucky.” He glances over at his car. “Do you need a ride?”
“If you don’t mind dropping me off at the hospital?”
“Not at all.” He opens the passenger side door, then hesitates. “Be careful who sees you there, though. We don’t want word to spread that you’re sitting vigil at Andrew’s bedside.”
“Trust me, that’s the last thing I plan to do.” No, I want to find Jacob and choke him. Then whap Peter upside the head with my purse a couple dozen times.
“It’ll help to have you there, so you can call me if Andrew wakes up. If he can make a statement, exonerating Chaser, I’ll move on that. If not, then we’ll need to regroup.”
There’s no “if not” in my head. Andrew better wake up and clear Chaser, or I’ll kill him myself.
Chapter Two
Mallory
Determination and anger fuel me as I walk into the hospital. On the way over, Mr. Paxton gave me some general ideas of questions to ask Peter and Jacob if I see them. Having a task to do doesn’t make me want to strangle those two jackasses any less.
As I pass what looks like a waiting room, I recognize one of the people slumped over in a chair. My steps falter and I back up.
“Jacob, what’s going on?” I ask, treading closer. His rumpled, dirty clothes and skin suggest he’s been run over by a garbage truck.
“Mallory?” He glances up and blinks at me.
“What the hell happened?” I lower my voice to a harsh whisper. “Chaser’s in jail. What are you doing here?” I don’t bother mentioning that the cops want to question him. I can’t afford to have Jacob bolt.
“Waiting for Andrew to wake the fuck up so he can tell the cops Chaser didn’t do it.”
His answer deflates a fraction of my anger. For once Jacob’s trying to be helpful.
He searches the nearly empty waiting room like he can’t believe he’s still sitting there. “Where are the other guys?”
“I don’t know. I just met with Chaser’s lawyer.”
“Shit.” He drops his gaze and shakes his head. “You had to get him a lawyer?”
“He’s in jail, Jacob,” I remind him. “I called his father and he found him a lawyer.”
“Aw fuck.” He rakes his fingers through his already messy hair. “Chaser’s going to kill me.”
My boyfriend might have to get in line. I’m feeling murderous myself at the moment. “Jacob, what happened?” I ask in my most patient voice.
“It’s all my fault.”
You don’t say.
“She shouldn’t be here!” Peter yells from behind me.
“What the fuck, man?” Jacob snarls, jumping out of his chair.
“Her boyfriend’s accused of shooting Andrew.” Peter backs down under Jacob’s raging bull face. “She shouldn’t be here.”
“Fuck off. You work for us, dickwad.”
“You’re the one who accused Chaser,” I point out, calmly.
“You did what?” Alvin asks, stepping into the waiting room. His arm brushes against mine, filling me with relief that someone I trust is here. “Why would you do that?”
Peter backs up a few steps and shrugs. “Chaser pointed a gun at him. Andrew got shot. Two and two.” He looks a little less sure of his theory. “Equals four. You know?”
“You fucking moron!” Alvin plants his hands against Peter’s chest and shoves him hard enough to slam into a row of chairs on the opposite wall.
“Don’t,” I warn, pressing a palm against Alvin’s shoulder. “We don’t need you in trouble too.”
I reach out and grab Jacob’s arm as he attempts to go around us to get to Peter. “You too.”
Jacob hangs his head. “I deserve to get in trouble.”
“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.”
Wheels of Fire (Hollywood Demons Book 3) Page 2