Free Gotcha! by Christie Craig Page B

him. If so, it had been an accident. Not that it mattered in the long run.
    Ellie stirred beside him. “Then what?”
    “I…don’t know,” he said. He couldn’t tell Ellie the truth.
    She wouldn’t like it, but he couldn’t think of any other way out of this mess. Yesterday he’d been a coward. Not today. As soon as he made sure Mace was okay, he’d do what he should have done yesterday. He’d go and kill Tanks.
    Jake and Macy arrived at the precinct an hour later than he’d planned.
    “They’re waiting in the captain’s office,” Donaldson said.
    Jake gave Macy a nudge toward the other detective. “Watch her.” As much as Jake had started to like her, he’d begun to second-guess his attraction. The woman had argued about everything this morning—about getting ready, riding with him instead of following, about her rights as a civilian, about the sausage and biscuit he’d ordered at the drive-through. Well, she hadn’t argued about that. She’d simply refused to eat it. Jake eyed the bag containing her breakfast.
    “I don’t need a sitter,” Macy remarked.
    “In here.” Donaldson motioned Macy into Jake’s office, then followed Jake into the hall. “What’s going on?”
    “Pizza Girl is Billy Moore’s sister. He’s—”
    “The other escapee,” Donaldson said. “Shit.”
    “Yeah. And I’m serious—watch her. She’s likely to skip out.”
    “You think she’s in on the breakout?”
    After her attitude this morning, Jake had actually considered it again, but…“No, I don’t. But she doesn’t want to be here. Which, to her way of thinking, gives her the right to leave.”
    He remembered her spouting off about citizens’ rights and wondered where the woman got her information. It wasn’t just info she’d picked up on television shows; she’d sounded like some fancy lawyer. And everyone knew what cops thought of fancy lawyers.
    He ran a hand through his hair. Macy Tucker was a mystery. One that frustrated and intrigued him all at once. He watched her move to the window in his office and stare outside.
    His gaze lingered on that heart-shaped backside encased in faded denim. Oh hell, he’d always loved a good mystery. What was a little frustration? Especially when he suspected her attitude stemmed from her concern over her brother. He could only imagine how he’d feel if the shoe were on the other foot. Then again, he had his own brother issues.
    Donaldson chuckled. “She’d better not go for my balls.”
    “Just watch her.” Jake turned to go, then remembered. “Here.”
    “What?” Donaldson took the bag, looking shocked. “You really bought me breakfast?”
    “Sort of.” Jake headed down the hall to meet with the Feds and IA.
    Jake, the FBI, and the Internal Affairs suit had been at it over twenty minutes and suffered long bouts of silence.
    “I haven’t seen Tanks since I testified at his trial.” Jake shrugged. He was irritated as hell for having to be here, but he’d be damned if he’d let them know. It wasn’t that he didn’t intend to tell them what he knew, it just pissed him off that IA had been brought in. But years of sitting in the front pew, pretending that he loved every moment of the sermon, had prepared him for every IA questioning he’d suffered through.
    On one side of the table sat Agent James, FBI. On the other sat Officer Clayton. Clayton, the weasel from IA, did all the talking. “So, you don’t know anything about this prison breakout?” Clayton asked.
    “Only what I read in the report.” Jake leaned his chair back on two legs, hoping it annoyed them the way it annoyed his mom. He then dropped his chair forward and sat with arms open, posture relaxed. He could tell his lack of anxiety pissed off Clayton, but not Agent James.
    He glanced at the Fed. “Why is the FBI involved?”
    James closed the file he’d been reading. “Heard some allegations of prison corruption. It seems prison officials were taking payoffs from inmates for favors.