Ex-Con: Bad Boy Romance by Shiloh Walker, M. S. Parker

does.”
    “No.”
    Carly whipped her head around and glared at me, anger turning her eyes to blue fire. “Don’t you dare give him the satisfaction of an answer.”
    “I have to,” I said softly. Then I looked back at Detoine. “The answer is no, Detoine. I’m not being paid for personal services . And you can also tell Dale Mitchell to fuck off.”
    His facial expression didn’t change, but his lashes flickered. That was all. Just the quickest flicker, not even a blink, really. But it was enough to confirm what I’d suspected.
    Dale was the entire reason I was here. The fucker.
    “Some detective with a grudge questions my motives for hiring a bodyguard and the two of us have to be subjected to...” Her hands gestured in front of her like she couldn’t find the words to describe what was happening.
    “Now, Ms. Prince,” Detoine said, moving to defuse the situation. “This is just a routine interview. Considering the rather exorbitant fee you’re paying him, I had to make sure there was nothing else involved. That’s my job.”
    “Exorbitant?” She laughed, but the sound was brittle. “Five thousand is pocket change to me, Mr. Sampson. I’ve spent that on a spa day without blinking. Hell, I might’ve spent that just on clothes for Bobby yesterday. I don’t even look at the bill for things like that.”
    Blood rushed to my face and I found myself staring at the soft, steel gray trousers that had been delivered to the hotel just that morning. Five thousand dollars? That hadn’t been the number I’d seen...
    Fuck. The suits. She’d put a rush job on the suits. For all I knew, the damn suit they expected me to wear later that day cost five fucking grand on its own.
    Detoine cleared his throat. “What’s pocket change to you is several months’ income to others.”
    She stood up abruptly and leaned across the desk. “That’s not the point. We’re here because a cop with a grudge got his jockey shorts in a twist and you fucking know it. Don’t you? But you can’t tell that cop to fuck off, can you? You have to act like me wanting Bobby to work for me is something...sordid.”
    I stood up.
    “Carly.” I caught her elbow. She stiffened, and I knew she was going to pull away. Leaning in until I could smell her apple-scented shampoo, I whispered, “You asked me not to quit. Now I’m asking you to do something for me. Let this go. It won’t help.”
    Slowly, she straightened. A shudder wracked her body and she turned to face me. “It’s not fair,” she whispered. “You went to jail. You did your time.”
    My heart twisted. What had I done to deserve her protection? Her faith?
    “You don’t get it.” I brushed her hair back from her face, forcing my hand not to linger. “Whether or not I did my time doesn’t change the fact that his brother is still gone. Nothing brings him back. He’s always going to hate me. And he has a right to.”
    “So he gets to abuse his badge?”
    I didn’t have anything to say to that.
    “No.”
    I looked up at Detoine’s quiet voice, except he wasn’t looking at me. He was focused on Carly and his eyes were gentle, understanding even.
    “No cop has a right to abuse his badge, not for anything.” He sighed and then leaned back in his seat, skimming one hand back across the neat crop of short black hair. He focused hard on the wall for a moment, and then shifted his attention back to me. “Bobby, if you would, sit. Please. Ms. Prince.”
    I sat. A moment after I did, Carly did as well, but it was pretty clear from the rigid line of her spine and the way she swung her foot that she wasn’t happy about any of this.
    Yeah, well, neither was I. Shame twisted my gut up as I shoved back out of the chair to pace the small confines of the office. I knew exactly how many strides I could take before I had to turn around. Three. Pivot. Two strides – he had a massive file cabinet and it blocked the western wall. Turn. Three strides back.
    “Bobby.”
    He came out