Lisa Desrochers - A Little Too Hot

Regret? Pain?

He drags a hand down his face and closes his eyes, and for several beats of my racing heart he just stands there, breathing hard and saying nothing.

I sit here staring, not sure what’s happening, until he finally opens both his eyes and his mouth.

“Samantha West, you are under arrest for solicitation.”

“YOU HAVE THE  right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law . . .” Harrison trails off, hauling a labored breath. “Sam? Are you hearing me? This is important.”

And that’s when I realize I’m just sitting here, open-jawed, staring at him. “What . . . ?” is all I can manage. I feel totally disoriented, like I fell asleep in front of an episode of Law and Order and it’s seeped into my dream.

His brow furrows as he fights to keep his gaze from dropping to my open vest. “Get dressed, Sam.”

We both fasten our buttons as he continues with my rights. By the time he’s done, I’m dressed, but I didn’t hear anything he said over the buzzing in my ears. As the weight of what’s happening slams home, the lights start to flash and my ears ring louder.

I stagger up off the sofa and, a second later, I’m on the floor without knowing quite how I got here.

“Shit!” Harrison barks as he drops to my side. “Sam?” He shakes me a little. “Sam, say something.”

His voice echoes in the distance as he says something else, but I don’t hear what it is. Gradually, I get my bearings, and when I open my eyes, I find him leaning over me, holding me in his arms. I lift my hand to his face and his gaze softens. But then I slap him. Hard.

He lets me go as his head snaps to the left.

“Bastard!” I leap to my feet and feel instantly dizzy again. I drop into the sofa as my head spins. “You’re a cop?”

He rubs his face and stands. “DEA.”

My mind reels as I try to make sense of this. I feel blindsided and betrayed, and even though I realize how ridiculous that is, considering I barely know Harrison, I can’t stop the torrent inside me as it all comes to a head.

“You fucking bastard,” I growl. “That’s all this was about? Just so you could arrest me?”

He takes a step toward me. “Sam, this isn’t about you.”

“Really? Because I’d swear you said I was under arrest.”

His jaw grinds tight. “This will all go away for you if you cooperate.”

And that’s when I remember what Nora said that first night. The cops are always snooping around, looking for a reason to shut Ben down. “Damn you!”

“Do you understand your rights?” He stoops down in front of me and reaches for my hand. “Sam?”

I yank it back and cover my face with it, suddenly disgusted by the same touch that set me on fire not five minutes ago. “You son of a bitch,” I mutter, more to myself than him.

Harrison pulls his phone from his pocket. “It’s a go,” he says, then tucks it back. “Sam, I need you to tell me if you understand your rights.”

“Yes,” I mumble into my hands.

“I’m sorry Sam.” His voice is low and soft, and I can tell he’s standing right in front of me.

I still don’t look at him. I want to rant. I want to scream. So, when “You know I’m not a hooker” comes out of my mouth sounding totally pathetic and defeated instead of furious, I hate myself.

In the silence that follows my statement, the sounds from outside the door change. The constant buzz of chatter from the club is punctuated by a scream, then shouting, and the steady pound of music abruptly stops. There’s more shouting, right outside my door, then the door flies open. I lift my head and see a black guy with a shaved head, maybe in his late forties, step through the doorway, gun drawn.

He reaches behind him and pulls a pair of cuffs off his belt, tossing them to Harrison. “Everything under control in here?”

“Arroyo and his wife should be in the office across the hall,” Harrison answers with a jerk of his head at the door.

“We’ve already got them,” the guy says, stepping back and peering down the hall.

“Who’s on collection?” Harrison asks.

“Jenkins.”

Harrison blows out a sigh and looks at me. “Stand up, Sam.”

I cross my arms over my chest and look away, fighting to keep the panic off my face. The only clear thought in my head is that this has to be a mistake. This can’t be happening.

OhGodohGodohGod.

“Sam, I need to—”

“No!” I snap, because right now all I want to do is choke the life out of him. I feel so dirty when I think of his hands on me. How did I fall for him so fast? First Trent, and now Harrison. What the hell is wrong with me that I’m so horrible at reading men?

He looks at me a moment longer, something deep in those glacial eyes hardening, becoming unbearably intense. But just when I think I’m going to have to drop my gaze, he spins for the door, slapping the cuffs into the other guy’s hand on his way out. “Can you get this, Cooper? I’m going to make sure Jenkins isn’t screwing up evidence.”

And just like that, he’s gone.

Cooper comes over and stares down at me, jiggling the cuffs in his hand. “If you just do as you’re told, this will go so much smoother.”

“Fuck you,” I tell him without budging.

He rolls his eyes. “You’re so original. Did Casanova give you your Miranda warning, by any chance?”

“Yes.”

My breathing is coming in short pants as panic starts to get the better of me. In the hall past Cooper, I see cops moving back and forth. A big guy I recognize from the pit, with a buzz cut and one of the hugest heads I’ve ever seen, stops in the door. He’s wearing a T-shirt and jeans, but now there’s a gun on his belt.

Cooper frowns in his general direction. “What the hell’s going on, Jenkins. I thought you were on evidence.”

“Montgomery’s got it. She our star witness?” he asks, jerking his enormous chin at me.

“The one and only,” Cooper answers, stepping back.

Jenkins claps his giant hands together, making me jump. “Let’s get her loaded up.”

I glare at Cooper. “So am I a hooker or a witness? I’m a little confused here.”

“Both,” he answers, grasping my arm. “Come with me, Jezebel.”

My head spins as Cooper drags me to my feet and clicks cuffs onto my wrists, tightening them until they pinch. I can’t help glancing in Ben’s office door as he pulls me past. Harrison’s broad back is to me as he stands at Ben’s desk. He turns his head and his gaze catches on mine for a spit second as he picks up a file and drops it into a box. The ice in those blue eyes now is so different than the warm pools I lost myself in when he kissed me just minutes ago. And that’s when I know for sure.

It was all just a means to an end. Everything I thought I felt was based on a lie.

In the last year, since I lost both Lexie and Trent, I haven’t really opened up to anyone. Katie knows what happened, of course, because she’s friends with both Lexie and me, but I’ve never really confided in her how much it tore me apart. I’ve never told Jonathan. I kept it bottled up inside of me because it was embarrassing to talk about. But I felt like I could open up to Harrison. I felt like we connected.

My fatal mistake.

Shame and betrayal slam into me like a freight train and my whole body goes cold. I stumble as Cooper guides me through the door into the club. He keeps me on my feet with a yank of my arm. When I catch my balance and look around, the lights are up and the club is nearly empty except for police and guys dressed in button-down shirts and either jeans or slacks, guns on their hips. Shouts cut through the low drone and I look up to see Big Pete pinned against the wall by three uniformed cops. Marcus is nowhere to be seen. As we cross the room to the front door, I see Brittany, Jen, and Izzy, still in costume, sitting at a table near center stage with a couple of guys in blue button-downs. Brittany looks up and glares at me. Izzy catches her glare and follows her gaze to where Cooper is ushering me none too gently toward the front door. Her face scrunches, and I’m sure I see sympathy in her eyes.

Damn.

Cooper tugs me to a black Charger in the alley and presses on the top of my head as he tucks me in back. Jenkins climbs in the driver’s seat.

We drive, but I can’t focus on our surroundings enough to know or care where we’re going. I close my eyes and tip over onto the seat so I’m lying on my side. I want to die. I am truly too stupid to live.

I’ve so thoroughly checked out that I don’t even know how long later the car rolls to a stop. I don’t sit up. Even when Cooper opens my door, I just lay here. Because the gravity of this is just now sinking in. I’ve been arrested for prostitution. My wheels are spinning, thinking of how to get out of this without anyone finding out.

Mom.

My gut tightens at the thought of her knowing what happened. She threw me out because she thought I was a fuck-up, and just to prove her right, here I am, going to jail. This is a nightmare.

“Come on, Jezebel,” Cooper says, nudging my thigh.

I drag myself to a sitting position and find we’re in a parking garage. “Who the hell is Jezebel?”

He gives me a cynical smile as he pulls me from the car by my arm. “A biblical succubus. She used sex to lure men to their deaths.”

“Great.”

Jenkins follows as Cooper directs me up a hall to a door. He presses his ID against the sensor and the door clicks open to a lobby inside. Jenkins skirts past us and punches the elevator call button. The middle door opens and we climb in, and when the door opens again, Cooper takes my arm and scans his ID at the glass doors, where UNITED STATES OF AMERICA DRUG ENFORCEMENT AGENCY” is printed in large gold letters. He guides me through into a reception area with a desk and a few chairs. The only person at the desk now, in the middle of the night, is a uniformed security guard.