To Touch a Thief (An Everly Gray Novella) by L. j. Charles Page A

Jayne. “Hello, Ms. Hunt.”  
    There was a long pause.  
    The breath caught in her lungs.  
    And then he smiled, and when it reached his eyes, he held is hand up for a high five. “Looks like your fake arrest has worked.”  
    Tears burned hot on her cheeks. Embarrassing. She pulled out a chair at the far end of the table, away from everyone, then ran her hands through her hair, working through the tangles. A wash of heat rushed into her cheeks, and she closed her eyes. Was it obvious to everyone that her disheveled condition was from a night of the best sex she’d ever had? Under the sweat and fear, she could still smell Parker on her skin. Healing. Soothing. She closed her eyes, shutting out the room. The shakes started in her knees, worked their way up. She wanted the scent of him to cling forever, but…“I need a shower and sleep. And what about the real arrest? For murder?”
    Hayes gestured to a woman on his right, short hair that was dark enough to be called black, full cheeks, and brown eyes that didn’t miss a thing. “Soon on the shower and sleep, but there are a few things we need to get out of the way first. This is Detective Reese Bryant, our computer expert.”  
    Reese nodded toward Jayne, smiling.  
    “And this—” Chief Hayes motioned to his other side— “is Drew Smith. He’s your attorney.  
    Smith nodded in her direction. “Parker retained me on your behalf, Ms. Hunt, although it doesn’t look like you’ll be needing me.”  
      Did that mean she wasn’t under arrest for murder? “Why am I here? And is there any water?” Her voice was raspy from holding back the tears. And she was tired. So tired.
    She really wanted to wash the stale taste of fear from her mouth, and then find out what Chief Hayes and Detective Bryant wanted to do next.  
    The chief nodded to Detective Bryant. It didn’t take more than a few heartbeats for her to leave the room and return with four bottles of water, a tense silence eating the oxygen from the conference room.  
    Detective Bryant paused as she handed a cold, condensation-covered bottle to Jayne. “All of the evidence pointed to you being our killer, Ms. Hunt.”  
    The bottle slid from Jayne’s hand and landed on the carpet with the crackle of cheap plastic. She bent to pick it up and came face-to-face with Detective Bryant’s…flip-flops? Didn’t law enforcement people wear steel-toed boots? This wasn’t going well.
    She straightened, desperately wishing for underwear. Anything to help even the odds of surviving this…whatever it was. She planted the bottle of water firmly on the table. Figured there was no point trying to take the lid off until she could get her hands to stop shaking.  
    “I didn’t kill Solomon Tarik.” Jayne closed her eyes, dragged in a ragged breath and faced her attorney. “Am I talking to these people or not?” Her voice was almost steady.
    Chief Hayes stood. “You have my sincere apologies, Ms. Hunt. I’m embarrassed to say that we now believe your arrest was an attempt to set you up for the murder of Emir Solomon Tarik. It wasn’t what I expected when I helped you and Parker Steele with the sting operation.”  
    Drew Smith caught her gaze, held it. “You’re no longer under arrest, so the choice is yours whether to walk out of here or listen to the chief’s proposal. My advice is to hear them out before you make any decisions.”
    Chief Hayes cleared his throat. “We would appreciate your cooperation, Ms. Hunt. I’ve personally spoken with Detective Stone, who holds you in high regard, and I regret that you’ve been placed in this position. Although we need your help, I can understand if you choose otherwise.”
    Jayne brushed at her damp cheeks, anger eating at her belly. “You put me through this, and you know I’m not guilty?”
    Chief Hayes cleared his throat. “There was enough evidence pointing to your guilt to convince the prosecutor, Ms. Hunt. We had to follow strict protocol on