Page 21 of Clay

She shook the circulation back in her hands and angrily inspected the red marks bracketing her wrists. This was all such bullshit.

“Please follow me,” he opened a door next to the booking sergeant and ushered her into a plain room with a table andchairs bolted to the floor. A camera poked out of one corner, the red winking light indicating they were being recorded.

A pair of men sat in two of the chairs, one wearing a suit she could tell was ridiculously expensive from the cut and cloth. He was lithe and looked expensive with his dark hair slicked back in what she could only describe as defense-lawyer-chic. He also looked vaguely uneasy but was covering it well. The man next to him was … something different.

He wore a similar suit, looking every bit the professional, with a high-end haircut and a slick smile.

Ivy almost shrank back at his carefully blank expression, his calculating gaze. This man was so much more dangerous than the lawyer-type. Then they were standing, and the non-scary suit extended his hand.

“Miss Foster, I’m Anthony Smith. I’ve been retained to represent you by St. Michael’s Solutions.”

That was fast, she thought, as she took his hand. The other man merely smiled at her and made no move to introduce himself. A bit of fear twisted inside her. Who the hell was this guy? Was he part of the SMS crew she hadn’t met yet?

He didn’t give off that vibe. At all.

Undersheriff Jones stood in the doorway, his arms crossed. “All right counselors, tell Dev we’re even. We’re running the specifics on the warrant right now, but don’t get your hopes up.”

Smith and the scary guy sat, gesturing toward Ivy to do the same.

She shot a look over her shoulder toward Jones, who wasn’t going anywhere. What was wrong with her when that brought a huge measure of relief? That she’d rather spend time with the cops than the men who were here to get her out of trouble?

The cell holstered at Jones’ waist chirped, indicating an incoming text. He glanced at it, one side of his mouth lifting upin a sardonic grin. “Well, my day just got made, I can tell him myself.” He turned and pushed through the door.

Ivy felt his loss immediately and looked across the table. “What’s going on?” she asked. “I don’t have any warrant in South Carolina, I haven’t been there in years.”

“We’ve got it taken care of,” Smith soothed. The other man stood and walked to the door, thumped on it. A uniformed officer opened it, and the man left without a word.

Smith let out an audible breath of relief before the door opened again and yet another man walked in. He was tall, fit, movie-star handsome, with ever-so-slightly graying hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His suit made the lawyer’s pale in comparison. He walked straight to her. “Ivy,” he said, his voice soothing, his expression open and friendly.

She felt instantly relieved.

“I’m Devin Beck. Clay will be waiting for you as soon as we get you out of here.”

Jones reappeared in the doorway.

It was a regular merry-go-round, Ivy thought inanely.

“We’re even, Beck,” he said, and Dev laughed in response, the sound immediately putting Ivy at ease.

“Just wait until you find out about her warrant. You’re going to owe me even bigger,” he grinned at Jones, and it was obvious they were friends, of a sort.

Ivy interrupted. “Listen, I don’t mean to interrupt old home week with something this trivial, but why am I here?”

Dev turned to her, his expression going serious. “You have a bogus warrant out of South Carolina for possession with the intent to sell. Heroin. Automatic felony, and usually a one-way ticket to a jail cell. But you hired SMS, and we take care of our own.”

“What makes you think it’s bogus?” Jones asked, straightening from his casual slouch in the doorframe.

“She hasn’t been to South Carolina for three years; the last time she visited her friend Katie McAlister. Who’s now missing, by the way. Ms. Foster hired us to find her.”

Jones turned to her. “Why didn’t you file a missing person’s report?”

She gave him a hard stare. “I did, three weeks ago. Your officers said she was probably holed up with a man.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed.

Ivy tossed him a bone, since he’d been very, very decent about all of this. She should have been booked already. She knew enough about law enforcement to know that. “I can’t blame them for thinking that, but it’s not like her, so I hired SMS.”

Devin turned to Smith. “Who was in here with you? The desk sergeant said he brought back two. And where is he?”

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