Page 67 of The Pleasure of Panic

“I’m gonna need to ask you some questions, Mr. Wells,” Agent Murphy says.

“I’m outta here,” Darrel says, getting up from his chair. “I’ll catch up with you later.” He walks towards the door without a second glance back at me.

“Thanks, Darrel. Remind me not to make you a real partner in crime, because you’d probably bail on me the first time things got heavy.”

He waves a hand over his shoulder as he turns the corner and disappears, ignoring my deteriorating mood. Which is why I keep him around. He kinda gets me.

“OK,” I say, clapping my hands and rubbing them together. “Issy, do you mind closing the door? Whatever this is, Wells Senior doesn’t need to hear about it. He’s got a bad heart.”

Agent Murphy kicks out and the door slams shut with a bang.

I smile. I’m not gonna let this day go to shit. I’ve got too many things in play to let one ex—lover? Friend? Whatever Ixion is—a jilted game player, and an FBI agent take away my Zen. “I think you two had better sit down and take a deep breath.” Issy Grey opens her mouth to snarl at me, but I hold up a finger and say, more forcefully this time, “Sit. The fuck. Down.”

She sits, he doesn’t. But that’s typical, right? Men.

“Did you approach,” Murphy says, “Miss Grey last night about a sexual fantasy fulfillment game?”

“Nope.”

“Liar!” Issy says, kinda yelling. Which makes her boyfriend here shoot her a look, which I think says, Let me handle this.

I look at Issy Grey, because I have a file on her, and I know she doesn’t let anyone handle something she can handle herself. So I expect her to put up a fight.

But she doesn’t.

Which piques my curiosity.

CHAPTER TWENTY - FINN

“OK,” I say, “Let’s just all calm down.”

“I’m calm,” Jordan Wells says. “It’s you two who might need a Xanax.”

“You have some nerve, you know that?” Issy is sitting in one of the chairs in front of Jordan’s desk. Her legs don’t even reach the ground. I mean, her toes do, but she’s kinda swinging her feet because she’s nervous. Which is adorable. And kinda makes me happy.

Jesus. What’s wrong with me?

“Did you or did you not have a conversation with Miss Grey last night about playing a sexual fantasy game?”

“No comment,” Wells says.

I just look at him, then remember he’s some kind of high-powered lawyer here in Denver and adjust. “OK. But I’m gonna take you down to headquarters for questioning if you don’t cooperate.”

Jordan shakes his head. “No, you’re not. Unless I’m under arrest and you’re prepared to handcuff me, I’m not going anywhere and you’re not doing anything.”

Issy sighs.

“Just make this easy, Wells. Just cooperate. Her fucking house was ransacked last night, OK? Someone broke in and went through her shit. Broke her things. Personal things. Things that meant something to her. And we think it’s got something to do with your game.”

“Number one,” Wells says, holding up a finger. “I don’t have to answer your questions. It’s called the right to remain silent. Number two, I have no business dealings with Ms. Grey whatsoever, isn’t that right, Issy?”

We both look at her. She shrugs. “I think you do and you’re just not telling me.”

“Number three,” he continues, “the very short conversation we had last night at dinner…” He looks at Issy again. “It wasn’t dinner. What would you call it? Drinks?” He shrugs. Issy looks like she might stand up and throat-chop him—and right about now, I’m silently rooting for her to do that. “Regardless, that conversation happened after we signed an iron-clad non-disclosure agreement.”

I force myself not to look at Issy. “So you’re hiding behind that.” Piece of shit.

“Look,” he says. “I’m not obligated to say anything to you, Murphy. But in the interest of making you get the fuck out of my office without causing a scene, I’ll tell you something useful.”