Page 20 of Royally Bad

Weapons. Bullets.The leap was easy to make. How dangerous was a man like Kain? I’d been worried that he’d be wild, maybe kind of crazy—and definitely too alpha for me.

Being a murderer had never crossed my mind.

“Holy hell,” I whispered. “You think I had something to do with all ofthat?”

Stapler—honestly, who had a name like that?—reclined in his seat. The photocopied checks sat between us like nuclear weapons. “You’re carrying funds from an illicit source, paid by a family known for bribery and selling black-market goods. How else do I look at it?”

Lifting my hands, I flailed them side to side. “Slow down. I had no clue about any of this.”Is he serious? Are the Badds that kind of family?“Francesca walked into my store the other day. I’ve only been back in the state for a few months, I’d never met herorher brother before.” Chasing my thoughts in a circle, I wondered how to prove I was innocent.

Wait.Narrowing my eyes on the detective, I hesitated.Maybe I don’t have to.

Tilting his head, he smiled curiously. “What are you thinking, Miss Sage?”

“I’m thinking ... that you already said I’m not under arrest. You don’t actually have anything to charge me with, do you?”

He went so very still. “Not yet.”

Breathing faster, I pushed myself unsteadily to my feet. “Then I guess I’ll be going.”

“Miss Sage?” he asked. Peering at him, I grabbed the doorknob. “I’ll say this once. I’m not the bad guy here.”

Sucking in my lower lip, I weighed my words. “You might be right about them. I don’t have a clue if anything you’ve said is a lie. It could easily be all true. But between the both of you?” I opened the door. “You’re the only one who’s tried to frighten me. Good guys don’t do that.”

He said nothing as I made my exit.

It would have been much more dramatic if I wasn’t carrying a glittery pair of stripper heels.

- CHAPTER SIX -

KAIN

My shoe kept tapping on the busted tile floor. Every few minutes the cop behind the front desk would glare at me with distaste. When he did, I made sure to smile and wink. Every time the same smile, the same cocky wink.

I hated cops. Had since I was a kid. Plus, it was easy to dislike the guys who’d dragged me in here and left me in a cell for two hours. To be fair, it wasn’t very long—but our family lawyer was usually much faster.

It probably didn’t help that he represented both sides of my family, and in the span of one morning, needed to assist all of us.

Simon Finch was one of those men who just appeared out of thin air, often with his hair wobbling in the breeze like he’d sprinted straight from wherever he’d been waiting. He’d pointed out how the arrest had been made without cause, that they had no proof to keep anyone here, and then he’d e-mailed my father his invoice and traipsed away to help other would-be convicts out of prison.

I admired him. It’s not that I thought I deserved to be in jail, but Finch definitely got me out fast enough each time that if Iwasdoing something wrong, I could go right back to it before the cops could even get another warrant.

After things were straightened out, my brother Hawthorne had brought me my motorcycle and a change of clothes. It had felt good to get out of the suit, even if I knew I looked amazing in it.

Recrossing my legs, I leaned forward, trying to peek around the corner. Sammy was back there; I didn’t need to see her to know. Fuck, in a way, I even felt it. That made no damn sense, but the tugging in my stomach acted like there was a bit of bait hooked inside of me, and Sammy had the fishing pole.

I didn’t need to be here. I definitely didn’t need to try and explain things to her nonexistent lawyer about how to help get her out of trouble—I still couldn’t believe she didn’t have one. Who didn’t? Either way, once I was confident that they had no plans to actually arrest her, I’d parked my ass to wait.

I just ... felt sort of responsible for Sammy getting caught up in the raid. But I’d warned her from the start; she didn’t know who I was,who my familywas. If she had, she wouldn’t have gotten so involved with my sister.

And then we wouldn’t have kissed.

A kiss. Fucking hell. Was I really mooning over one of a thousand pairs of lips? Yeah, it had happened under a perfect starry night in a rose-filled garden, but harping over those little details was something a wannabe pretty princess did. Not me, and probably not Sammy, either.

She was a no-nonsense kind of woman, even if she did reek of high-end prissy New York City life. Spending time with her as her guard slipped, more and more of her genuine, hard-edge, ball-busting, heart-of-Rhode-Island attitude slipped out.

No, she wasn’t the fairies and glitter type.

Not at all.

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