Page 81 of His Virgin Romance Series

Detective Jones was about to say something, but I was on a roll, and I didn’t want his cynicism to get in the way of my logic. “And another thing… They say they found pounds of drugs in my apartment. Well, if I had been dealing for a while, don’t you think I could have afforded a better apartment? Hell, don’t you think I could have afforded a nice enough engagement ring for my girlfriend?”

“You have a girlfriend?” Detective Jones asked, zeroing in on that bit of information.

I suppressed a sigh, realizing that they would probably send a cop in to see and speak to Rachel to ask her if she saw any signs that I was dealing while we were together.

“Yes,” I said tightly.

“Her name?”

I hesitated for a moment, and Detective Jones seemed to notice the pause. “Come now, Mr. Roberts,” he said. “If you have nothing to hide, then you won’t have a problem with us talking to a few people in your life, right?”

“Her name is Rachel Jacobs,” I replied.

“And her address please?”

“Three-two-four, Hightower Apartments, Block C, Elvin Street,” I rattled on.

“And where does she work?”

“Bradshaw’s,” I said. “It’s a local retail company.”

“Excellent, thank you,” said Detective Jones, giving me another one of his annoying fucking smiles.

“My pleasure,” I said darkly.

“You have a brother, don’t you?” he asked suggestively.

I tensed a little, but I nodded immediately. “Yes.”

“What’s his name?”

“Paul.”

“And where is Paul?”

I gritted my teeth together. “He’s in jail,” I said, without mincing my words.

“Hmm…interesting,” Detective Jones nodded. “What is he serving time for?”

“Drug possession and drug dealing.”

“I see.”

“My brother being a drug dealer doesn’t make me one,” I pointed out.

“No, but sometimes these things, they run in the family.”

Before I could respond, there was a tap on the door, and Detective Jones stood up and left the room without another word. I sat there, wondering how on earth all those drugs ended up in my apartment. This couldn’t just be a coincidence—this couldn’t just be a random sequence of events. Whoever had put those drugs in my closet knew me. Something was nagging in the back of my head, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

My thoughts were interrupted when the door opened again, but this time a familiar face walked through. The sight of Officer Manolo made me feel just a tiny bit relieved. He closed the door behind him and sat down in the chair that Detective Jones had just vacated.

“Officer Manolo,” I said, looking him right in the eye. “I didn’t do it.”

Manolo’s eyes narrowed slightly, as though he were trying to figure out whether I was lying to him or not. After a moment he sighed. “I don’t think you’re capable of doing something like this,” he said.

“So, you believe I’m innocent?”

“I do—and make no mistake, I’m going by instinct alone,” he told me. “Which is not something that will carry much weight with anyone else here. We need more than just my instincts to get you out of this. We need proof that you were set up.”

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