Page 6 of Devil's Iris
“Of course not. I’m simply informing you that you have no legal justification to hold him since you can’t tie him directly to this crime. Which means you’re detaining an innocent man. I’m curious how a wrongful imprisonment lawsuit would play out in court.”
He’s threatening them.And he does it so casually it’s almost charming.
Detective James clears his throat. “We were just following standard protocols, man. No need to go so far. Even if the evidence is circumstantial, your client is still our main suspect. What exactly would you have us do?”
It’s a rhetorical question, but Romero answers without hesitation. “Release him on recognizance.” He smirks. “Or set reasonable bail, if that’s what you prefer. But I strongly suggest the former. My client’s record is clean. He’s a contributing member of the community. This is simply a case of mistaken identity. We’ll prove my client’s innocence in court—but right now, you have no reason to hold him hostage here.”
A heavy silence settles over the room. Then Detective James sighs with obvious defeat. “I’ll make the call.” The other officers grumble, but no one argues.
Romero stands calmly in front of the detective while he makes the call, and within a matter of minutes, the holding cellis being opened and a young man—not much older than Ethan—walks out. Could he really have killed someone?
The man nods respectfully at Romero, and the officers give him some papers to sign, their expressions ranging from frustrated to furious. And then, just like that, he walks out of the station,free.
“This isn’t over, Lombardi. Don’t think we’re done here,” Detective James grumbles as Romero picks up the briefcase he had set down to sign the papers.
Romero doesn’t dignify that with a response, just spins on his heel to leave. And I realize this is it—this is my one shot.
I don’t have a solid plan, but I have desperation, and sometimes that’s enough. My legs shoot out just as he’s about to pass my chair, blocking his path.
He stops, frowning down at my dirty sneakers, then follows the line of my legs up to my face until those sharp green eyes finally land on mine.
I try for my most charming smile, tilting my head and blinking in what I pray looks seductive rather than deranged. “Hello, darling.”
3
ROMERO
Getting Eric released is just the beginning. I need to get my hands on the arrest reports and whatever evidence the prosecutors have so I can figure out the best angle to handle this case and?—
A pair of worn-out blue sneakers attached to feet suddenly appear in my path, derailing my train of thought mid-stride.
I follow those sneakers up pretty ankles and long legs in faded jeans, over wide, luscious hips and a slim waist, to a pair of perky tits—and then the face.
“Hello, darling.” Her voice is soft and a little husky, somehow making my pulse kick all the way up to my throat.
And then I really see her.
I wouldn’t have thought the face could compete with the body, but it does. Spectacularly.
Her face is small, heart-shaped with sharp cheekbones that glisten under the harsh fluorescent lights overhead, bow-shaped lips that snag my attention for far too long, and smoky eyes under messy bangs she blows away in mild annoyance.
Delightful golden freckles scatter across her nose likesomeone threw glitter at a masterpiece and somehow made it even more perfect.I want to taste them. Every single one.
She’s obviously tired—dark circles hug her eyes, but instead of dulling her, they somehow make the rich color of her irises pop even more. And then there’s her hair: a wild, luminous mix of copper and gold, twisted up in a bun that’s slowly coming undone.
She’s gorgeous.
What’s she doing in this dirty place?
She’s studying me as I study her, those stormy gray eyes taking me in with an intensity that makes my skin burn. A small, teasing smile plays on her full pink lips, soft and inviting—like she knows exactly the effect she’s having on me. “Have you forgotten me so soon?” she asks, head tilting, lashes lowering. “We had such a wonderful night last year in Vegas.”
Little liar.
One: There’s no way I’d ever forget spending a night with this beauty, no matter how long ago it was. That hair alone would have branded itself into my memory forever. I’ve heard of the termstrawberry blonde, but I’ve never actually seen it in real life. My hand tingles with the urge to touch it. Would it be as warm and soft as it looks?
Two: I was nowhere near Vegas last year. In fact, I haven’t set foot there in close to three years, despite what the tabloids have spewed.
“So playboy of you,Romeo,” she goes on, turning my name into a tease I’d usually hate—but it sounds hot coming from her mouth. “I’ll try not to be too hurt that I wasn’t… memorable. But you know what you can do to make it up to me?”
