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Chapter Fifteen
Peyton
I ran down the hallway and ducked into my office. After retrieving my laptop, I turned around and attempted to run out of the building without being seen. I was mere inches from the door, and the sound of Camden Rollins’ booming voice made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
“Peyton! What in the world are you doing?”
Fucking fuck fuck fuck.
With my laptop clutched under my right arm, and my purse dangling under my left, I turned around and forced myself to smile. “Just came in to get my MacBook. It’s has some stuff on it that I need to make reference to.”
He crossed his arms and stared back at me in disbelief. “Were you running?”
“It uhhm. It was. It was more of a light jog.”
“Why are you in such a hurry?”
I shrugged. “Just. I uhhm. Trying to get done with the first installment of an awe-inspiring piece.”
“Come on back.” He turned away. “I haven’t seen you in weeks.”
“Has it been weeks?” I asked. “It seems like hours.”
“Come on back,” he said over his shoulder. “You can bring me up to speed.”
“I really need to try and get this done before I have a brain fart.”
He didn’t respond.
I took a few backward steps, inching closer to the door. “I uhhm. My recorder. I lost my voice recorder. Misplaced is more like it. But I figured out where I left it. Or at least I think I did. I was having lunch with Navarro. Kind of. Well, we never actually ate, but that’s an entirely different story. Anyway, I’m thinking I’ll have a rough draft here pretty soon.”
He walked away from me, reached the end of the hallway, and disappeared around the corner. I glanced at the receptionist. She returned an innocent smile and shrugged.
“Thanks for the warning,” I whispered.
I sighed, placed my MacBook on the receptionist’s desk, and took off in a dead run toward his office. When I reached the door, I reluctantly pushed it open. “I really need to go. I need to get my recorder. I left it at the bar.”
He waved his hand toward the front side of his desk. “They’ll be open all day. Have a seat, Peyton.”
I sighed and flopped down in the chair.
“What’s on your laptop that’s so important?” he asked.
“Just stuff.”
“What kind of stuff? Must be pretty important if you’re rushing in here to get it in the middle of the day. And why are you dressed like that? The Filthy Fuckers will never trust you if you’re dressed like that.”
I was still wearing my outfit from testifying in court. “No, I had a meeting. I uhhm. My insurance company. New insurance. They were going to cancel me. Too many tickets.”
“You need to slow down. You drive like a maniac. How many times have I told you? You need to slow down. You’re going to end up--” He paused, swallowed and shook his head. “You need to slow down.”
I nodded. “Duly noted.”
“So, what was it you were after? Tell me about the Filthy Fuckers. Are they going to war with Satan’s Savages?”
I sat up straight. “I was wanting to look at some notes from a few years ago I was chasing that missing person’s case.”
“Suspect the MC for a murder?”
