He smiled, but it tinged with rage that Greg had taken me out of his custody and hurt me. “I would’ve fired myself if you’d announced you were with him.” His lips twitched. “Respectfully, of course, Ma’am.”

Despite everything—the lies, the police, the fact that Penn was Nameless and he’d just been carted away for the second time—I smiled. “That’s what I thought.”

I pressed the call button as David said, “For what it’s worth, I do believe he’s a good guy. If you read between the lines, that is.”

“I know.” I held the phone to my ear. A ring tone sounded. “I saw it that first night.”

I just forgot to trust it and not let doubt and disbelief get in my way.

I knew Penn was a good guy—despite his jackass ways the past few weeks.

In his mind, I deserved that treatment.

In my mind, I kind of agreed with him.

“Larry speaking.”

My questions snapped away, leaving more important things. “Larry, this is Elle Charlston. Penn’s been arrested.”

He reacted straight away. “Ah, damn, I feared something like this would happen.”

“Something like this?”

“Him getting mixed up with you. It’s not exactly good for his temper.”

I agreed Penn had a temper, but he could also control it. He’d unleashed it twice since I’d known him and both were to protect me.

He had my back. I hadn’t had his.

God, I had to stop tormenting myself and fix what was broken, not focus on the reason for it. “It would’ve been a lot simpler if he’d told me the truth from the beginning.”

“I did tell him that.” Larry sighed. “Did he tell you the truth now?”

“As the police dragged him away, yes.”

“And?” Larry prompted.

“And what?”

“How do you feel?” His tone cajoled.

“I...I don’t know.”

Confused.

Annoyed.

Frightened.

Guilty.

“What does that mean?” He sighed again, heavier this time. “Look, when I first helped him, he kept his feelings for you a secret. He didn’t tell me about the girl in Central Park. But after a while, he confided in me. When I managed to revoke his sentence and free him, he said he would track you down and see if what you had was a one-night spark or real.”

He didn’t continue.

I blurted, desperate for more. “What else...what else did he talk about?”

“He, uh—he found you.”

“Obviously.”

“No, he found you the night he was released.” He waited for that bomb to destroy me. “He found you and then refused to contact you.”

Tears puddled inside, growing wetter with every breath. “Why?”

“I’m guessing that’s his part to tell.” He cleared his throat. “I’d better go. I’ll get my ass down to the station and start the proceedings to free him. Again.” Something clattered in the background. “I don’t know how things ended with you tonight, but if you want, call me tomorrow, and I’ll arrange a time for you to see him once he’s been processed.”

My heart lurched. “Wait, he won’t be released tonight?”

Larry laughed as if I’d told a hilarious joke. “No, my dear. Where Penn is concerned, the NYPD have a thing against him. They’ll keep him locked up for as long as they can. And they’ll succeed.”

“Why?”

“Because they have history.”

Chapter Sixteen

Penn

I FUCKING HATED bars.

I hated metal sinks and hard-ass beds.

I hated the men who were as corrupt as everyone else, getting high off shiny badges and getting hard on screwing over innocence.

Fair and just, my ass.

The short journey down to the precinct irritated me. The cops and their radios irritated me. Pedestrians and traffic lights irritated me.

Everything fucking irritated me because I knew I wouldn’t be treated fairly.

The moment I was on their turf, I had no power.

None.

I sat in fury, listening to my heartbeat pounding and splashing around in pools of regret. For once, the regret wasn’t toward Elle but Larry. I’d let him down. I’d promised him I wouldn’t be in this situation again because it was too fucking hard to get free last time when I’d done nothing wrong.

This time...I had done something wrong.

I’d beaten up Greg.

They had reason to detain me, and the man out for my blood would fucking wring his hands in glee when I showed up. He would ensure Greg would elaborate and collaborate; he’d document my victim’s injuries with pride, and he would once again take great satisfaction in fucking over my life knowing he had me fair and square.

It wouldn’t matter Greg had been the kidnapper and about-to-be rapist. It wouldn’t matter his crimes far exceeded my own. And it didn’t matter I’d been taken shoeless, moneyless, and with dried blood and gore all over my body.

It would make an interesting mug shot.

It would only make his workday that much more enjoyable.

My head ached with the battle I was about to walk into. I wanted to rub my face, but the cuffs kept my hands tied. New York spat me out like a worm from the apple as the cop car slid through the reinforced gates and into Hell.

I didn’t make eye contact or listen to the bastards who’d arrested me as they opened the vehicle, let me climb out with my motherfucking dignity, and didn’t dare touch me as we stalked into the processing room.