Free Unable to Resist by Cassie Graham Page A

on his desk he motions for me to sit. I do as I’m told and look around.
    His office faces the entire city; the entire back wall is covered in windows. When I sit down in front of him, he really does look like king of the city. The buildings practically bow to him.
    The dark wood desk spans at least seven feet long, but it doesn’t nearly fill the massive room it sits in. There’s a comfortable looking couch on the opposite wall of the windows, and a coffee table that sits in front. What does he need a couch in his office for? God, do I even want to know?
    Probably not .
    Amazingly hot man, impressive job—he probably sees a never-ending parade of woman.
    I glare at the brown, leather couch long enough to make Duane chuckle and put his feet back on the ground.
    I turn to him with a skeptical look. “What are you laughing about?”
    He attempts to reign in his amusement, but fails miserably. “Nothing, it’s just—well, you’re staring at that couch like you want to kill it. It’s quite adorable.” He looks into my eyes. “I stay late some nights. Sometimes I crash on it.”
    Simple. I’ll buy it. I guess.
    I nod my head, and survey the rest of the room. There’s a tiny bar in the corner with bottles of brown liquid meticulously spaced around it.
    I could use a shot of whiskey right about now.
    “Alright, well from what I understand they have three suspects in custody right now.” He pauses to look at his watch. “They are probably done by now. I should be getting a call soon.”
    I nod and soak in the information. “Now what happens?”
    He flashes a smile, maybe to lighten the mood, maybe to make my insides feel like they’re melting.
    “Hopefully one of the bastards confesses. If not, they’ll dig deeper,” he says, his voice strong—very lawyer-esque, if that’s a thing.
    I begin to chew on my bottom lip when his phone rings.
    He picks it up. “Duane Rynard.”
    God I love his name.
    He listens and his eyebrows shoot up as he writes something down on a piece of paper. “Okay, well that’s quite interesting—holy shit.” He shoots a look in my direction. “Alright, I’ll let her know. Thanks. Yeah, I’ll let you know what she says. She’s sitting in front of me right now. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll call you back.”
    I listen to him say his goodbyes and anxiously wait for the new information.
    He rubs his temples and breathes out a huge breath of air. “One of the suspects claims to know you.”
    Oh, lord.
    “And he refuses to talk to anyone but you,” he finishes.
    The blood in my body gushes to my ears and all sounds from the lively city below us calms.
    “What—so, what does that mean? What do I need to do?”
    “How do you feel about making a trip to Arizona, darlin’?”

All the color in Ann’s face drains when I air my question. Like a reflex, I stand and rush to her side, pulling up a chair so I can grab her hand, embracing it reassuringly.
    She immediately laces our fingers together and I silently thank whomever I need to for allowing her to not flinch at my touch.
    I’ve been trying my damndest not to touch her—minus the waist grabbing in the lobby earlier. Seeing her scared in front of me throws all hesitation out of the window. I fight it, I want to protect her. I want to make her feel safe.
    “It’ll be okay. You’ll go in, you’ll talk to him and it’ll be over.” I try to comfort, knowing in my mind it’s never that easy on anyone.
    She nods her head. “What’s—what’s the man’s name? The one I’m supposed to know.”
    Her nose lets out a sniffle.
    I look down at my notes. “Brenton Hall. Does that name sound familiar to you?”
    Her eyes move side to side, like she’s scanning her brain for answers. “I—,” she hesitates. “Duane, I don’t know who that is. I knew a Brent, but his last name wasn’t Hall.”
    I figured as much. Most of these guys just want a chance to scare the shit out of the relatives.
    Ann lets her tears escape, her