“Yes.” Her cheeks start to turn red. “I feel bad for letting Legend leave the bar with you last night, but he didn’t really give anyone room to argue.”
“You feel so badly that you pinched your neck numerous times in punishment on the way to my house?”
Her eyes dart away. “I stayed the night at the Cerberus clubhouse last night.”
“Ethan told me this morning.”
“Are you mad?”
My brows knit. “Why would I be mad?”
“Because I should’ve been here.”
Sylvie follows me to the living room couch. “Would I have preferred you were here rather than Ethan and Slick? Yes. But mostly because it’s weird waking up to a strange couple in my house only to be told I was drugged.”
“They aren’t a couple,” Sylvie says.
“What?”
“You said a couple. They aren’t together. The new crew literally just met the older crew yesterday.”
That wicked smile of hers is on her face, making it clear that she’s reading me like a book. I know she saw the relief wash over me with her news.
“Legend told me before they all stormed out of the clubhouse that you need to go to the police station.”
“I do,” I confirm. “Who did you go home with last night?”
“I drove Spade, Aro, and Boomer home.”
I raise an eyebrow at her.
“Ha,” she says after snorting. “I wish. I spent the night with Spade. Boomer seems too quiet, and as much as it pains me to say, completely uninterested in me. Aro’s attention was locked on his phone the entire ride home and he disappeared the second we got there. But Spade, that man made up for so many terrible past lovers.”
“Now what? You’re going to be dating a Cerberus member?” I ask as I stand from the sofa and head toward my purse on the console table. Sylvie follows.
“Dating?” She chuckles. “I’m pretty sure the man didn’t even remember my name this morning, but I had a great time.”
***
I’m anxious, a complete ball of nerves by the time Sylvie pulls her car into the parking lot of the police station. Shame settled in my bones shortly after being told what happened last night, and it shows no sign of going away.
“Ready?” Sylvie asks before turning off the car.
“Not really, but let’s get it over with.”
We walk into the station side by side, and I give my name to the woman working at the front desk. She tells us to wait a minute, but a handsome older man calls for me before we get the chance to sit.
“Do you want me to wait or go with you?” Sylvie asks before releasing my hand.
“Wait,” I tell her.
She gives me a quick nod of understanding before taking a seat in the lobby.
“I’m Detective Haden Gaffey,” the man says as he shows me inside a small office. “I’ve been given some details about what happened last night, but I’d like to take a statement directly from you.”
“I understand,” I tell him, taking a seat when he indicates a chair in front of his desk.
“First things first, I’d like to see if you recognize the man who drugged you last night?”
My head snaps back when he lifts a picture off his desk of a man that has been severely beaten. The man in the picture has eyes that are purple and nearly swollen shut. His lip is split in more than one spot, and before Detective Gaffey turns the image around to look at it himself, I swear I spot a knot on the right side of his forehead.
“Shit,” he hisses. “Wrong picture.”
“What happened to him?”
“That guy fell down last night.”
“A flight or two of stairs? He looks awful.”
“Can you pick out the man who drugged you last night?” Detective Gaffey says as he turns around another image that has ten or so smaller pictures on it. “We call this a photo lineup.”
My gaze automatically narrows on the third man on the top row, and my stomach threatens to make me sick once again. I point to the picture. “Him.”
“Very good, Ms. Robbins. Now let’s get your statement. Do you mind if I record it?”
I shake my head, and then spend the next half hour telling the detective everything I can remember from last night.
***
“You don’t have to stay and babysit me,” I say when Sylvie follows me back into my house.
I can’t even give any attention to the newly broken flowerpots on the right side of my porch. I haven’t been able to catch the little deviant kids that have been causing problems in the neighborhood, but it’s not something I have the energy for today.
“Are you asking me to leave?” she jokes, but she makes no move to turn back around.
“No,” I answer honestly. “But don’t you want to go home and shower or something?”
“Is your shower broken?”
I shake my head.
“And why would I want to wash off the best night of sex in my entire life so soon?”