Page 277 of Satan's Spawn

“The only fucking way I know how.”

It’s his turn to shift uncomfortably in his seat. “Keep talking.”

I clamp my mouth shut.

Micah pinches the base of his nose. “Jesus Christ, you really are impossible.”

Gathering his wits again, he rests a hand on my shoulder, and when I shrug it off his back straightens up.

“Your silence is telling me there’s more to this story.” He leans closer, easing up on the snarky tone of his voice. “Listen. If I’m gonna get you out of this mess, Crayton, I need you to help me.”

“I asked him politely to stay away from her. Better?”

He blows out an exhausted breath.

“There’s photos taken by his private doctor that suggest otherwise. Not to mention the broken back and jaw.” Micah takes a quick look over his shoulder then adds, “The kid accused you of physically assaulting him both times in that letter. Slashed him too with your knife.” He lowers to whisper. “You know, the one the entire school knows you wear like a badge of honor?”

Guess Fucker Felix left out the fact my cock was shoved down his throat like a dirty hooker.

“Anything else?” I raise an eyebrow in jest, but what I’m really looking for is confirmation that he chose his ego over common sense.

“Anything else?” Micah scoffs. “That’s enough to flirt with the lines of probable cause. Attempted murder if he was fucking alive.” He runs a hand down his jaw, struggling with what he has to say next.

Micah looks at me like he’s throwing caution to the wind, hoping it doesn’t boomerang to smack him in his pretty boy face.

“Are they gonna find anything on that knife, Shaw?”

I’m about to tell him only one of Rebecca’s many orgasms, but the door flying open steals my chance to make him squirm.

“Time’s up,” bad cop chirps, both of them rounding the table to sit.

Micah’s take-no-shit attitude returns before the two dipshits get the chance to pull up their chairs.

“Let’s cut to the chase, boys, shall we?” He shoots his gaze between them. “You got nothing concrete to justify this pissing contest.”

“His ID was on the scene,” Good cop argues.

“Circumstantial at best, Jimmy, and you know it.”

“The letter.”

“My wife could’ve fucking wrote it. C’mon.”

“Your client assaulted him twice.”

“Show me the proof, charges, anything other than a letter that could’ve been easily planted.”

His comment sparks something inside my head, leaving me wondering why the hell Felix never did move forward with pressing charges on me. Just another conspicuous piece to this game of teenage Clue.

Micah ruffles through some papers. “The fact is if you had anything concrete on my client, he’d already be charged. So if you want, we can go toe to toe with technicalities, spend hours running in circles, but we all know in the end you two will be taking off with your fancy detective shields swinging between your legs.”

Holy fuck, Micah really is as sharp as Archer said.

Wish I could’ve had him stroking my ego the last seven times I got arrested.

“So whaddya say, boys?” He leans back. “We dancin’ or what?”

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