Page 35 of Dirty Roxie
Reed
We shouldn’t have been surprised to see Ronan and Roxie in the interrogation room. But we were. So much so it stopped Mack, literally, and I bumped right into the back of him.
“What in the actual fuck? Rox? Is that you?” he asks, sounding shocked, but keeping his voice low. He looks around behind us, checking to see if any else heard. Then moves aside to let me in and shut the door.
“In the flesh,” Roxie answers. “What in the hell are you doing here?”
“We could ask you the same thing,” I respond.
“We need to talk,” Mack says. “And it needs to not be here.” He motions to the room we are in, and specifically the camera.
“We were just on our way back up to our suite,” Roxie says. “I need a shower and a beer, not necessarily in that order.”
“There’s something you need to see first,” I say, grabbing the remote to start the playback. The video surveillance showing Ronan and Roxie leaving the hedge mazes begins, both obviously beaten up, and Ronan looking clearly injured.
“Who else has seen that?” Ronan asks.
“So far? Just us,” Mack answers.
“How do we keep it that way?” Roxie chimes in.
I push a few buttons on the remote. “Well, somehow, I believe that part of the tape was just damaged.”
“Luckily,” Mack says. “The FBI just cleared Mr. and Mrs. Johnson of all suspicion, so the security teams can continue their search without it.”
“I love me some FBI men,” Roxie says, winking at us. “Meet at the suite?”
“Thirty minutes, and we’ll be up. We can regroup, trade stories, and figure out what our next step will be,” I throw in my two cents. We all agree, and Roxie and Ronan leave. Mack officially clears them from all suspicion within the hotel security team files and we head out.
I’m used to seeing attractive women in sexy clothing at this resort, it seems to be the norm. Which is why I surprise myself by taking a double look at a blonde signing in at the front desk. She’s wearing a maxi dress that may not otherwise grab my attention, but the back is cut so low you can see theVof her lower back. The bikini top she has on underneath does little to cover the side boob, and I’m a sucker for side boob. And given the way the dress fits, I’m guessing there aren’t any bikini bottoms matching that top.
Mack catches me checking her out and backhands me in the biceps. “When’s the last time you talked to Cutie?” He references Quinn by the annoying nickname he has for her. I’m trying to be okay with it, but it still bugs. Just a little.
“I haven’t.”
“Not at all?”
“No. I want to catch Andrei and at least prove—”
He stops suddenly holding his arm out in front of me to stop me too. “Wait a mother fucking minute,” he says, then pulls out his phone and starts frantically texting.
“What?” I ask.
He holds a finger up in response, while his other fingers continue moving across the keyboard.
I look around, trying to see what would have made him react in such a manner.
“Goddamn, mother fucking . . . can’t listen to save her life, mother fucker, shit!” Mack fumes an extensive list of expletives.
“What the fuck is going on?”
He reads an incoming text and begins furiously typing another.
“Mack?”
He jots his chin toward the front desk. “That’s Daria and Quinn checking in.”
I look toward where he’s pointing, seeing the beautiful blonde I was checking out a moment ago turn her head in a few directions looking for something. It’s Quinn. When she sees me, her face goes pale. She elbows Daria, who looks up and gives us a weak smile.
