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“What the fuck are you trying to do?” Lock snapped. “Sleeping with her was fucking stupid.”
“But it was really fucking good,” I said, walking over to the small fridge and grabbing a water. “You know, she’s not so fucking uptight when you get her in bed.”
“I don’t want to hear that shit. She’s a client and you just crossed a line.”
I huffed out a laugh. “Fuck, I crossed that line when we walked through the door. Tonight, I just made it memorable. Besides, she wanted it.”
“She wanted it. You sound like a fucking rapist.”
“Except, I’m not one and I don’t appreciate you making me sound like one.”
“Just keep it in your pants. While you were out getting laid, the rest of us were working and actually got somewhere.”
That had me interested. “What did you find out?”
“Rae went through the security footage from events she’s attended. We have a few suspects, but it’ll be hard to narrow down.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because one is a fashion journalist. He’s supposed to fucking be there.”
“What kind of man is a fashion journalist?”
He continued without answering. “And then this guy,” he said, walking over to a table with photos spread out. “This guy is my prime suspect. He’s always watching her. It’s fucking creepy.”
“Are we bringing him in?”
“On what?”
My head snapped up at the question. “Since when do we need a reason to interrogate someone?”
“Since Fox is here,” he retorted.
That gave me pause. “You invited Fox?”
He quirked a brow at me. “No one ever invites Fox anywhere. He just shows up. And along with him, the rest of the idiots.”
“Why did Cash approve that?”
“Because he wanted Anna and Juliette out here for the gala tomorrow night.”
I pressed my lips together, trying my best not to laugh.
“Don’t fucking start.”
“You have to wear a suit?”
“So do you,” he snapped.
“Yeah, but I like looking snappy. Suits are awkward at best on you. Are you sure you can even find one that fits your shoulders?”
He gritted his teeth as he glared at me. “I look fine in a suit, and I have no problem fitting my shoulders in one.”
“I’m not so sure about that. You look like a football player.”
“I work out just like you. What do you want me to do?”
“Slim it down, man. I could recommend?—”
