Free Incendiary by Kathryn Kelly Page B

secure area and are now in a corridor, where I’ve halted in front of the door that will open into the waiting room.
    For fucking days, I’ve been working on fumes, with little sleep. After being whisked away from the hotel and to a police station, my father used his power and influence to have me extradited back to the States within twenty-four hours. A battalion of press corps documented every humiliating moment. Back in Houston, I was fucking charged with statutory rape, contributing to the delinquency of a minor, coercion, and sexual battery, then I stewed in my solitary cell for another four fucking days. Two days ago, I had my arraignment, where I offered up my Not Guilty plea. Finally, my exorbitant bail was set late yesterday.
    It’s morning, and I’ve bonded out.
    My father’s doing again. I owe him and we both know it. With all the crimes I’m accused of, and the severity, I would’ve been in jail until my preliminary hearing at the very least. Wallowing in my self-righteous, self-pity, I made a deal with the devil. Everyone believes the head honcho of hell is named Lucifer. Satan’s real alias is Rand Mason.
    Does that make me his demon spawn?
    Georgie would have the world believe so. Thanks to her, my life’s under a microscope. Yet, no scrutinizing every fine detail of my antics over the last eight years has yielded one example where I’ve fucked an under-aged girl. Not even Georgie. I hid her very well. Therefore, her credibility is questionable, and public opinion is solidly in my favor.
    Before I open the doors to freedom, I draw in a deep breath, anticipating the fucking frenzy on the other side.
    Bitter hatred toward Georgiana McCall wells deep within me. When I get my hands on her, she’ll be so fucking regretful she betrayed me and had rape charges brought against me. I hate her to the same extent I once… loved her.
    Whether I like it or not, I did love her. It’s a grudging admission, one I’ve resisted for months, but it’s the truth. I fell in love with her and had to let her go. At least until she turned eighteen.
    The little cunt.
    Words from her radio interview roll in my head, the moment she betrayed me tearing me apart.
    “Do you intend to file charges, Miss McCall?”
    “Yes, Sloane seduced me. I'm only sixteen.”
    At this point, her voice cracked. I don't need a fucking recording to remember every fucking word. Her conversation has replayed nonstop in my head.
    After everything I did for her, she betrayed me.
    “He never once returned my calls. I left so many messages for him.”
    Yanking my hair in frustration, I pace, sorry I ever listened to her interview while behind bars. I had too many hours to think about her. At one time, I lost myself in our time together. When my days grew dark, memories of Georgie lifted me up. No fucking more. These days, the mere thought of her infuriates me.
    Happiness built on a shaky foundation is as lasting as a castle created from sand, knowledge I gained through dealing with my father, but forgot the moment I met Georgie. By the time we’re done, she’ll be fucking lucky not to face charges herself.
    If that plan doesn’t work and I’m formally indicted by the grand jury, we’ve already started preparing my defense.
    “Little bitch!” I snarl.
    The deputies eye me, one of them resting his hand on his gun.
    “Give me a few moments,” I say.
    They nod. Though they’ve already obtained my autographs, they really don’t know if I’m the violent pig I’m being accused of.
    “I don’t envy you,” one of them says, shaking his head. “Give me anonymity any day, over crazy fans who’ll have me sent to jail.”
    The other one offers me a skeptical look. “Well, her belly is evidence.”
    “Bitches lie all the time,” the first deputy argues.
    Not caring if a dozen girls an hour lie to them, I tune them out. Georgie never once fibbed about anything, which makes her allegations that she called and left messages for me even more