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I only know that Hellena is going to need my help. She’s going to need protection. From the guys she now owes money to for drugs, dangerous guys I know way too well. From charges against her for possession to whatever the DA tries to pin on her. They’ll want a scapegoat since all the rich kids’ parents will buy them out of any sort of punishment.
But I can’t do anything about that yet. Or the fact that she’s suddenly becoming a problematic obsession.
So, I’m doing what I know how to do, researching, learning about my target. Maybe that will help me figure out why she’s different. How she tore down my defenses with one fucking flick of her hips and a kind word.
Catching a glimpse of her sitting in the holding cell has to be enough, but it isn’t even close. Delaney is on duty, though, so I can’t linger or he’ll get suspicious, or just chatty on why I’m down near the cells with no case file or a client on a Saturday.
Instead, I grab a shitty cup of coffee, pretend to drink it out front after swapping into another face. The guy sitting across from the station is just ‘Robbie’, a doddering card collector enjoying some sunshine and feeding the birds. He’s a nobody, like most of the people I play. Forgettable.
And it helps me forget my issues for a time, too.
My compulsions fade when I become someone else. Jeremy is just a paralegal with three cats and an addiction to reality TV shows. Trigger is just a thug for the local biker gang. Lex can just be a bouncer and take out his frustrations on patrons who step out of line. Each of them has their own life, their own quirks.
It’s pure freedom for a guy like me, to step out of my own head for a while and be something else.
Changing my posture, my voice, my face, my hair. It’s as easy as changing my shirt, swapping caps. People only notice what I want them to. Even being as tall as I am, which you’d think would be a disadvantage. Most folks avoid looking up, avoid looking around altogether, nowadays.
I’m always watching, and I don’t miss a thing.
Especially when Hellena makes bail a few hours later. After a night in a cold cell she looks tired, disheveled.
Still sexy as hell.
Logic, the facts, tell me that she shouldn’t have any effect on me. Except that I can’t stop thinking about her hand on mine. Her laugh. And the way she looked at me.
More than anything else, I follow her because I need to know what it is about her that puts all of my twitching vices to rest.
4
HELLENA
“Ora Clive!”
The gruff voice shouts, and bars clang out in the hall, jarring me from my sleep. I finally dozed off against the freezing wall of the cell about half an hour ago. The clock across the hall says it’s 4 a.m.
Seems like a perfect time for the start of a migraine behind my eyes. I rarely get them, even from sleep deprivation. Intolerable amounts of stress? Ooh, that gets me every time.
Not to mention I haven’t eaten since lunch yesterday. Meant to have a snack at the party, but…
“ORA CLIVE, GET BACK HERE!”
A shrill voice giggles, followed by stomping boots and the woman’s voice yelling, “Fuck you, Delaney!”
It’s pretty clear this isn’t the first time they’ve met. More cursing and scuffling follows, right about when the red-faced officer who booked me comes storming up to my cell door and yanks it open.
“Yeah, yeah. Fuck me is right. Get your ass in here and sit down!” A female officer appears next, struggling with a small figure in ripped jeans. She shoves who I can only assume is Ora ahead of her. Another rough push, and she staggers into my cell. We’re the only two in this one, the bars across from me blocking off where several rough-looking men lie sleeping off their drunken stupors.
“Shut up, Delaney. You love it when I come to visit. Get’s your cock hard, doesn’t it?” She presses back up against the bars, pushing her hands through so they can take off her handcuffs and fluttering her tongue at him.
Officer Delaney blushes even deeper, shaking his head and storming off, leaving the lady officer to deal with the cuffs. “You really know how to press his buttons,” she mutters.
“I’ll press your buttons too, if you want. I bet you look hot with all that blonde hair down, maybe a little rouge, some mascara? Do the carpets match the drapes, beautiful?” And the female officer stalks off, shaking her head and laughing to herself.
“I'll see you again in a week! Thanks, Hannah!” Ora flops down on the bench across from me, kicking her boots off and stretching. “Can’t believe I went to high school with that girl. Still got an ass on her, though.”
She's the tiniest little thing.
Slim, dressed like she was just at a biker bar. Tattered jeans, ripped T-shirt showing off her pretty impressive abs and well-muscled arms. In contrast, her tightly curled black hair is carefully styled, kind of all over the place, but clearly on purpose. The look suits her, framing dark skin and very big, brown eyes.
