Jailbait (7 page)

“There is nothing wrong with my memory.”
 

Olson’s eyes narrow, and he shakes his head. “Then he must have threatened her,” he tells the officer. “Made her keep her silence.”
 

“Ms. Davenwood,” Officer Randall says, leaning toward me. “If there is anything you’d like to add to your statement, do it now.”

“There is nothing I’d like to add. Are we done? I’m tired and just want to go home.”
 

Officer Randall says we are, and the three of us stand to leave. Then I realize no one is going to get Grayson, or to tell him he’s not being arrested.
 

“Aren’t you going to let him go?” I ask, coming to a sudden halt.

“Uh, well, yeah,” Officer Randall mutters. “Once the paperwork is done.”
 

“Can I talk to him?” I blurt, surprising everyone. The officer shrugs but says yes, and leads me to the room. I see Grayson sitting at a table, hands cuffed together. He’s staring at the clock on the wall opposite him looking bored.

And good. Better than good.
Stop
.
 

My heart speeds up with each step, and I’m all sorts of anxious and scared to see him while at the same time I can’t get there fast enough. My mind goes back to him kissing me in the stable, and I find myself getting hot and bothered right here and now.
 

It was only a few seconds. It was only his lips on mine. It shouldn’t have affected me so much, made everything around me fade, causing my heart to beat so loud in my own head and the only thing that could silence it was more of him. One kiss shouldn’t have done that. But it did.
 

And no man should have that sort of power.
 

The officer unlocks the door and holds it open for me. He says he’ll be right outside, watching. Grayson’s big blue eyes meet mine as I walk into the dimly light holding room, and he smiles, and makes me feel anything but turned on.
Dammit
. I can’t lie to myself. Not when it comes to him.

“Pepper,” he says softly, half smile turning into a smirk. “Have a seat. I’d get the chair for you but…” he trails off and lifts his hands, showing me that the cuffs are attached to the table.
 

I perch on the edge of the worn wooden chair across from him, folding my hands in my lap. I need to pick my words carefully or risk coming undone.
 

“Why are they treating you like a criminal?” I ask. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
 

Grayson raises one eyebrow and gives me that half smile again. “The law is a bit biased, if you haven’t noticed.”
 

“They think the same thing I did. That the three of you were together, planning on robbing people from the gala,” I start. Stick to facts. Can’t argue with those. I blink, trying not to notice how built Grayson has become. His leather jacket is off, and his arms are all muscles and veins. Colorful tattoos creep out from under the sleeve of his black t-shirt. Those weren’t there before. Taking off his shirt and seeing what else has changed comes to mind. “Three men on motorcycles, all in black leather jackets. At the same place at the same time. They think you’re behind it all and planned it.”
 

Grayson inches forward and my body heats up wrestling feelings of flight-or-fight. I keep my composure, only freaking the fuck out on the inside.
 

“What do you think?”
 

“I know you didn’t do it.”
 

He leans forward, breath hot on my skin. “You think I’m innocent?”

I move my gaze from his handcuffed wrists to his clear blue eyes. “Nothing about you is innocent.”
 

He leans back, giving me his best I-don’t-give-a-damn smirk. But there’s something else in his eyes, something I’ve never seen before. Sadness? Longing? Whatever it is, I don’t like it. I never thought I’d prefer smart-ass Grayson to whatever this is, but I do.
 

Because whatever this is…it’s reminding me of what we had before and is making me want him even more.
 

I take a steadying breath and push my hair back. “You owe me an explanation,” I whisper.
 

Grayson gives me one tiny nod, nothing obvious to the officer watching and listening.
 

“I’m not pressing charges,” I start, “in case you were wondering. Obviously, we both know what happened, and know if you hadn’t stopped those men…”
 

“Pepper, stop,” Grayson says. “Stop thinking about what could have happened. It didn’t.”

“Because of you.”
 

Grayson’s hardened expression fades away, and his lips move into a gentle smile. “What were you doing out there?”
 

“Trying to escape my date,” I admit.

Grayson’s blue eyes sparkle with amusement. “He’s that bad, huh?”
 

I just laugh and shake my head. The door opens, and the police officer steps in.
 

“Is everything all right, Miss Davenwood?” he asks.

I offer my polite smile. “Yes, it is. He’s free to go, right?”
 

“Yes, ma’am. His story matches yours, and since you’re not pressing charges then we got nothing to keep him.” He uncuffs Grayson and we all walk out together. Grayson steps away with the officer to gather his belongings.
 

“What’s going on?” Olson jumps up, eyes wide. “Why is he leaving? You’re letting a criminal go?” He directs his question at every officer in the room. “Just wait until the press gets wind of this.”
 

“Yeah,” Grayson says as he slips his arms into his jacket. “The press will love hearing how
I
saved Pepper from being mugged.”
 

I glare at Grayson, hating how he made me out to be a damsel in distress. He gives me an apologetic look.

“What did you say?” Olson whips around.
 

“You heard me,” Grayson responds. “When you were worried about getting dirt on your designer shoes, I was the one who stepped up and did what was necessary.”

“Only because you got there first,” Olson quips. “And that’s because you were in on it. I stopped you from—”

“Gentlemen,” Officer Randall interrupts. “Go measure your dicks elsewhere. Anywhere, I don’t care. Just don’t do it in my station.”
 

“I’m not…you—you’re…” Olson mumbles before shaking his head. “Come on Pepper, let’s go home.” He flicks his wrist toward the door. When I don’t immediately come running, his eyes narrow. “The car is waiting.”

“I’m not going home with you.” I say each word clearly so there is no mistaking my message. “I’ll get my own ride home.”

“I can’t just leave you here,” Olson sputters. “It’s not safe.”
 

“I think the police station is a pretty safe place to wait for a car,” I snap.

“We were on a date,” Olson fires back.
 

“Yeah, and it’s over. I went home and was enjoying this beautiful evening riding my horse until you interrupted me.”
 

“Don’t you mean him?” Olson glares daggers at Grayson. “You weren’t riding your horse when I got there. Though you looked as if you were ready to mount something else.”
 

Grayson whirls past me, fingers curled into a fist. I catch his wrist, turning him around to face me. The moment his eyes meet mine, the darkness vanishes. He shakes his head and lets out a breath.

“It’s not worth it,” I tell him and notice how the officer in front of us immediately goes on edge, hand creeping toward his gun. What the hell? I wrap my fingers around Grayson’s wrist and feel a mound of thick scar tissue that wasn’t there before.
 

“You’re right,” he agrees softly.

I let out a heavy breath and walk into the lobby of the station.

“What are you doing?” Grayson asks when I stop.

“Calling for a car to come get me. I thought I made it clear I’m not going home with him.” I stare at Olson, who is already slamming the door to his Audi and peeling away from the police station.
 

“You could just take a cab,” he suggests, raising one eyebrow. “You won’t have to wait as long.”
 

“Oh, uh, yeah. Why didn’t I think of that?”

His full lips pull up into a smirk. “You do know how to get a cab, right?”
 

“Ha-ha, of course I do.”

That smirk turns into a smile. “Really? When was the last time you’ve been in one?”

“The last time was with you,” I shoot back and the memory of sneaking away from the private school I attended plays in my mind. Grayson and I spent the day acting like British tourists visiting New York for the first time. We even spoke with accents. “And I know how to hail a cab. I do watch TV.”
 

Grayson laughs, and his blue eyes sparkle, giving me a glimpse at the boy I fell in love with. I have to remind myself he’s a man now. A man who I haven’t seen in over six years.

“Care if I join you?”

“Why would you—oh, right. Your bike is still at the stable.” We leave the police station together, and walk down the street until Grayson catches us a cab. He opens the door for me. I’m hit with the repugnant smell of stale vomit and cigarette smoke.
 

“It’s not always like this,” Grayson chuckles quietly when I glare at him. “Be humbled by the way us peasants travel.”
 

“Hilarious. I see that hasn’t changed.”
 

The humor disappears from Grayson’s face. “It might be the only thing that hasn’t.” He leans back in the seat. I have so many questions for him but bite my lip, eyes flicking from Grayson to the reflection of the driver in the rearview mirror. I can’t talk now. We ride in silence back to my house, not bothering to fill the quiet with pointless small talk. When it comes to Grayson, nothing small cuts it. He’s an all-or-nothing kind of person.
 
He pays the fare and walks me to the side door of the estate.
 

“Come inside,” I say, stone steps clicking softly under the hard rubber soles of my riding boots. “We have to talk.”
 

He puts his hand on the back of his neck and looks down. “It’s late, Pepper.”
 

I narrow my eyes. “It’s that bad, huh?”
 

Grayson diverts his gaze. “Something like that.”
 

I enter the passcode and step in. Grayson doesn’t follow. I slowly turn around, keeping a hand on the door. He’s just standing there, expression hardened.
 

“You’ve changed,” I whisper, voice getting lost on the wind.
 

“I have,” he agrees quietly. A few beats pass between us as we stand there, looking into each other’s eyes. “Have a good night,” Grayson finally says, looking pained as he begins to turn.
 

I’m not sure what comes over me, but suddenly I’m reaching out and my hand lands on his shoulder. “Don’t go. You have to tell me why you’ve been following me. Or why you’ve been driving a foreign car. You owe me that at least.”
 

The smile returns to his face, but his eyes still hold that same sadness. “Fine. I’ll tell you what I can.” He says each word slowly, as if he has to remind himself. “And it’s not that I don’t want to, Pepper. I…I can’t.”
 

I nod, standing to the side so he can walk through the door. The moment Grayson King sets foot inside my house, my nerves come alive. The door shuts behind him and there is no going back.
 

He’s just a man. A man who I used to know very well. He shouldn’t unnerve me like this, but I can’t help it. There is something so tragic in looking into the eyes of a past lover and not knowing the person you see.
 

“Well,” I start as I enter the code to arm the alarm system. “If it involves a government agency and super heroes, I totally understand the need for secrecy. Though you can trust me if you feel like revealing your powers.”
 

“I have no superpowers,” he chides.
 

If he doesn’t consider what he can do with one kiss a superpower…
 

“You’re sure your dad’s not home?”
 

“He’s not,” I assure Grayson. “But if he were, it wouldn’t matter. I am allowed to have friends spend the night.”
 

“You want me to spend the night?” Grayson raises his eyebrows. Dammit. He doesn’t miss a thing.

I’m smiling again. “You know what I mean. I guess it’s weird to still live here, but this is home.”
 

“Not weird at all. This place is big enough for several families to share and not see each other. Plus it’s been in your family for how many years now?”
 

“Over a century.”
 

“See? You can’t leave. The ghosts of your ancestors would haunt you.”
 

Now I’m laughing and the tension I felt earlier has been completely blown away. We’re standing in the back of the house, near a hallway holding the entrance to a narrow staircase. It was built solely to be used by servants, and is one of the few areas of the old estate that hasn’t been touched by renovations or remodeling. The worn wood holds a smell that I can’t describe in any way other than historic. The pine railing has thinned and has a permanent shine to it from countless hands sliding up and down, holding on for balance.
 

Each step creaks and groans, telling a story of times past. The door at the top still has a brass skeleton key inside the lock. When I was a child, I would play on the stairs, pretending to be a servant girl for a princess. When I was older, I used those stairs to sneak out of the house.
 

Or to sneak Grayson in.
 

I go into the kitchen. I need wine. Grayson follows, taking off his leather jacket as he walks. I get a glimpse of those tattoos again. Fuck wine. I need something stronger. Shit. I’m no good at mixing drinks.
 

“I like the white cabinets,” Grayson says softly, pulling out a stool to take a seat at the large island counter. “It’s much, uh, brighter.”