“You’re right. She goes full f-bomb but I was trying to be attuned to your delicate sensibilities.”
Cora laughed. And in that moment, she remembered why everything had started with Kevin in the first place. She liked him. She’d just labeled it wrong. She hadn’t known the difference at the time between a friendship connection and more. Now that she’d met Hayes and Ren, she knew what gut-level, bone-deep attraction felt like, that need to be with someone, to open up to them and show them the real you. She’d never had that with Kevin. But she’d had this. That comfortable vibe, easy humor.
“I can’t believe you just called me a Mac. You’re such a dork,” she said, some of the tension draining out of her.
“One of my best qualities. Which is why you’re here, right? To get a piece of my big, sexy-ass brain?”
She rolled her eyes. “How about your hot, dangerous malware?”
“Don’t talk dirty to me, C. I’ve been working long hours. And there’s no bro with a vagina in residence anymore.”
“I swear to God, if you ever utter that phrase out loud to anyone again, I’m going to nut punch you. Take it out of your vocabulary, Watkins.”
He lifted his hands, palms out. “Consider it deleted.” He tipped his head to the left. “Come on, I’ve moved all my good stuff into the office. Let’s see if we can take this asshole down.”
Cora nodded, switching back into mission mode. “Let’s do this.”
TWENTY-NINE
Ren had finally fallen into a fitful sleep at some point in the middle of the night. But early the next morning, a cop was call
ing his name. He rolled over, every muscle stiff, and shook the fog from his head. “What?”
“Your bail’s been posted. I need you to sign a few things and then you’re free to go.”
He sat up, relief moving through him. “Thank God. And Hayes?”
The cop shook her head. “The judge denied bail for him.”
Fuck. That meant they really did have some kind of solid evidence. Wrong evidence. But solid. “Once I’m out, can I visit him?”
“Only lawyers for now.”
He groaned. He didn’t want to think about Hayes behind bars for another minute much less another day or however long it took to figure this shit out. Being locked up had nearly broken Hayes the first time. A second time would kill him. Ren wasn’t going to let that happen.
He’d track Gordon down himself. Though the thought made his stomach turn. That old fear was permanently tattooed on his psyche—with Ren always being the helpless kid and Gordon being all-powerful. He knew that wasn’t the case anymore, but it was an impossible feeling to shake. For that brief moment when he’d thought he’d seen Gordon in the bar, the teeth of panic had snapped at him, his teen self surfacing. But he’d deal with it. No one was sending Hayes back to prison, especially not one of Ren’s mistakes.
Ren went through the procedure for getting released in near silence, his brain already formulating a plan, and got his stuff back. His phone, wallet, and his keys. He didn’t have his car, but his lawyer could give him a ride to the house.
“Where’s Jim?” Ren asked when he’d signed the last page.
“Who?” The cop looked up from stamping the document.
“My lawyer. The guy who posted my bail.”
He cocked his head toward the door. “He said he needed to take a call outside.”
“Great.”
Ren tucked his things in his pockets and headed to the front. He pushed open the door, more than a little thankful to see the morning sun, and squinted in the bright light, looking for his attorney. But there was no one outside except an older couple walking their dog across the street. He jogged down the steps of the station and scanned the area.
“Well, shit.”
He lifted his phone to call Jim and see where he’d gone off to, but his phone was dead as hell. Fantastic.
He glanced at the station. He didn’t want to step foot back in that place, so he headed down the street toward the Starbucks on the corner. He needed coffee and could use their phone to call for a ride and to check in with Cora. Andre had promised he’d have someone keep watch over her, but Ren wasn’t going to feel better until he talked to her and heard her voice. She’d left the station with a mission. If she’d found something, she would’ve sent word or come to see him. She was probably at her place on her computer doing her detective work. She was probably fine.
But for some reason, his heart had started to pound harder, a bad feeling making his skin prickle. He pressed the power button on his phone again on the off chance he could get a burst of juice from it, maybe at least send a text, but the black screen mocked him. He shoved the useless thing in his back pocket and took a breath. It would only be a few minutes before he could call her. He needed to stop being paranoid.