Page 49 of Desperate Temptations

Cain pulled his truck into the station, looking up at the four-story redbrick building. He guessed it looked intimidating to most people, with police cars lined up. People, both cops and others that looked like bums or junkies milling around, were going in or out of the double doors.

The fading light of the sunset didn’t help to hide the desperation emanating from some of the people. He sighed. He needed to get them through this, and as quickly as possible.

“Let’s go.” Without a word, she scooted across the seat to him and let him help her down.

They walked into the building, his arm curved tightly around Jessa, holding her firmly against his side. Jessa stood rigidly against him, silent and watchful. They approached a large desk with a gruff, male officer standing behind it.

“What can I help you folks with?”

“We’re here to see Detective Phillips. Tell him Cain Owens is here to see him.”

He glanced at them with suspicious cop eyes, picking up a phone on the desk, calling someone. He put down the phone.

“He’ll be right down. Have a seat over there,” he said and pointed to old wooden benches across the room.

Cain walked Jessa to the seats, sat beside her, and kept his arm around her. Her head leaned against his shoulder, and her long-lashed eyes were closed. Cain let her rest, he guessed she was going to need it.

He looked around the station. The place was worn and cold, like every other police station he’d ever been in. Everything was off-white, from the tile flooring to the grimy walls. Several people were in the front area. Most were cops streaming through the doors and down the stairs. Two officers were helping a man walk across the room, who halfheartedly fought the handcuffs and the two cops holding him. He felt Quinton before he spoke.

“Cain. You guys can follow me.”

Cain stood and held out his hand to Jessa, who immediately grasped it. Together they followed Quinton up a flight of steps and down a long, smelly hallway into a conference room, with an old, long wooden table and several chairs. Four men were already there at the table, papers scattered in front of them. Everyone stopped talking. One of the men stood up.

“Quinton, take Ms. Dann...”

Cain pulled her tighter against him.

“She stays with me.” He felt her relax a little.

The man was tall, maybe in his fifties, with gray hair, cut close to his head, a belly that hung slightly over his belt, and tired, sharp eyes. Those eyes narrowed, authority written all over him.

“Now wait a damn minute...”

Another man, this one blond and in better shape, stayed in his chair and asked casually, “Are they arrested?”

Cain tightened his arm when Jessa went rigid and shushed her gently when she whimpered.

“No, but you know we separate witnesses.”

Quinton spoke up after he cleared his throat.

“Captain, there’s no way you’re going to get her away from him unless you arrest him, and I guarantee you’ll still have a fight on your hands. Not only with Cain, but I’m guessing she’ll put up quite a fight, too. They almost lost each other today, Sir.”

“Oh, my God, we need a lawyer?” she asked.

He bent and kissed her forehead.

“No, Jessa, but I won’t take chances with you, so I’ll take whatever precautions I have to for you.”

Jessa reached up, running her hand down his cheek, and smiled. She whispered a soft, “Thank you.”

Jessa flinched when a voice boomed.

“Goddammit,” the captain said, running a hand through his gray hair in agitation. “Have a seat, you two. We’ll play this your way. I can see I’m not going to be able to separate you.”

Cain growled and threw an aggressive look at the captain for scaring her before he walked them over to the table and sat her down between his lawyer and him. He pushed his chair as close as he could to her and took her hand.

The policemen at the table were discussing something as they studied some papers. The lawyer turned to them and pulled a pen and paper out of his briefcase.

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