Page 31 of The Alpha's Assistant & The Dom Next Door
I make my way down the stairs and walk up to the front door, hesitating. I can hear Shayla sobbing and whining about something now, in a much lower voice. I open the door with a sense of relief washing throughme.
Shayla is standing at the base of my stairs, mascara running down her face, hair askew, hugging herself. Two uniformed cops flank her, looking both tired and a little confused. One of them, a dark-eyed, fox-faced man, turns a stony expression tome.
“There’s the bitch, that’s her!” Shayla cries suddenly, stabbing an accusing finger in my direction. “My own sister locked me out of our house in thecold!”
I stare at her, so stunned that my heart painfully skips a beat. The rush of adrenaline sends cold needles through me as I watch my sister turn into an expert impersonatoragain.
“Shayla, why did you change the locks? I live here! I have no place togo!”
I shake back the brief, agonizing flashback, and the irony pisses me off to no end. “She doesn’t live here,” I say in a mix of confusion and outrage. Only the confusion is played up. Really, after everything she has done, I should have seen this tacticcoming.
Foxface’s brows knit together and he looks over at his partner, a mellow-looking Creole man with a carefully trimmed fade beneath his uniform cap. “Have we got a confirmation of their homeaddresses?”
“I can provide mine, if you need it,” I say in the steadiest voice I can manage. My eyes are too blurry from panic and exhaustion to read their name badges, but I manage not to cry or yell atanyone.
My cooperativeness seems to get their attention. Foxface sighs. “Miss Lacroix, as reluctant as we are to get involved in a family manner, your sister here claims that this is her place of residence, and you’ve locked her out in thecold.”
“Um, I’m really sorry that this has happened—” I say immediately, but Shayla cuts meoff.
“I can’t believe she changed the locks while I was gone! How could you lock me out, Emmeline? I have no place to go!” Her voice rises to a wail in a dramatic mockery of my grief on that night that I slept on the porch—and suddenly there’s nothing in my head butrage.
“Officers, please, my sister’s ID, mail, and keys will all prove that she lives in our family home in the Garden District.” I give them the address. “I moved here after she lockedmeout. Now she is harassing me because I blocked her phone number earliertonight.”
“She’s lying!” comes the screech, and I shudder, my heart pounding hard. How in the world does Shayla manage to yell this loud without hurting her throat? “I can’t believe this. I know she hates me, but this is legal! You have to arrest her and let mein!”
I’m shaking now, but I stand my ground. “Half of my things are still in boxes. I just moved here, alone. There’s one bed set up, and you know we’re not sharing one. I will take you inside and show you, but please, do not let my abuser into myhouse.”
Foxface’s eyes light up with sudden understanding, and he and his partner exchange a glance. There’s something fiercely knowing in the Foxface’s stare—but the other man shakes his head slightly,unimpressed.
The cop in front of me, Foxface, holds up his hands. “Okay, look. How about I go in, with your permission, have a look around, and you can explain the whole thing. Do you haveany—”
“Hey! Damn it, you stupid cop, why are you talking to her instead of me? She’s the one who did something wrong, I toldyou—”
“Ma’am,” his partner growls, “I am talking to you, and Officer Eames is talking to yoursister.”
“But ... but ... you should listen to me, not her! I’m the one who called you!” Shayla seems so baffled that I don’t know if she’s being manipulative, or if she’s simplydelusional.
“That doesn’t mean we know who between the two of you is lying yet,” Officer Eames snaps over his shoulder. Shayla sucks in air and I tense, half expecting an explosion. He turns his attention back to me, his expression going neutrally professionalagain.
Shayla uses the one tiny scrap of wisdom she possesses in not talking back to the cop, and I swallow mydisappointment.
“I’m sorry,” he says to me, “but it actually would help if I could see the state of your home to corroborate your story. And it would help even more if you had a witness to verify who liveswhere.”
“I’m happy to help with that.” A tall, broad-shouldered shape in a familiar motorcycle jacket walks up to my front gate, speaking in a clear, calm voice. “Carl Black. I live nextdoor.”
Shayla lets off whining at Officer Eames’s partner and levels a glare of pure hatred at Carl. He offers a cold smile in return—but when he turns to me, his eyestwinkle.
My hero,I think, heart lifting withrelief.
Chapter6
Carl
From the desperate look on Emmeline’s face and the way she sags in relief when she sees me, I know my timing’s good. As for my drinking buddy Jamie, who has been our beat cop along with his partner Tom for eighteen months, we exchange a brief glance before he goes back to doing his job. I have to pretend I don’t know him well, or Shayla’s likely to kick up a stink aboutcorruption.
“Well, sir, we got a phone call from Ms. Lacroix about being locked out of her house by her sister.” He gestures at the bitch, who is glaring at me like she wants to murder me right there. I wink at her, and she goeswhite.
“Locked out of her house? This woman doesn’t live here. In fact, I had to tell her to leave this afternoon because she was threatening Emmeline. I could hear her screaming from my kitchen. So could mykid.”
