Free Leasing Love: A #GeekLove Contemporary Ménage Romance (Your Ad Here Book 2) by Allyson Lindt

had to put it into action. Acid churned in his gut and surged up his throat. He swallowed it back.
    “It’s a simple assault case.” The officer in the passenger seat glanced back at him. “We have witnesses and proof. Do you really want to jump through all the legal hoops for the inevitable?”
    Jordan didn’t know how it was possible to have evidence for an incident that never happened. No, that wasn’t true; he could list a lot of ways. But it meant what they had wasn’t legit. He shook his head. “My lawyer will meet me at the station.”
    The policeman shrugged. “We get paid either way.”
    They processed Jordan into holding and sat him in a small room with a table, a couple of chairs bolted to the ground, and what he assumed was a one-way mirror. He couldn’t see a clock, but the shifting sun outside, moving down past the horizon and casting the room in a sickly orange glow, told him he was there several hours.
    His irritation and anger simmered and grew, the longer he waited. Why the fuck wasn’t anyone talking to him? Chloe got him an attorney. Someone should be here already and consulting with him. He was tempted to slam his fist into the table, to get an outlet for his frustration.
    Finally, keys rattled in the lock, and a uniformed officer opened the interrogation room door. “Mr. Iverson, you’re free to go. The charges have been dropped.”
    He gave the man a tight-lipped smile, jaw aching from being clenched for so long, and stalked into the lobby.
    Chloe was waiting next to a man in a suit that probably cost as much as Jordan’s high-end graphics laptop. She met Jordan halfway and hugged him tight. “I’m sorry it took so long. I wish I understood why. Dave took the demo. Said it was a hit.”
    The news was more of a relief than Jordan expected. It was nice something went right.
    “Mr. Iverson.” The suit approached, hand extended. “I’m Dean Twents. I represent the firm retained by Rinslet. Mr. Knapfer has dropped the charges against you. Not that he had anything beyond circumstantial evidence anyway. Well done, keeping your mouth shut.”
    Jordan gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Not my preference.”
    “It doesn’t have to be. I have some news for you, and you’re not going to like it.”
    Jordan resisted the urge to ask if Dean was always a humorless fuck or if it was a mask he wore for the job. “What news?”
    “We’re going straight to the airport from here.” Chloe’s voice was as tight as the lines around her eyes.
    “Bullshit. I didn’t do anything.”
    “And if you’re gone, you can keep up the trend,” Dean said. “I have a company car waiting.”
    Jordan wasn’t listening to him. His attention was still on Chloe. “We have things to wrap up.” He was nitpicking. The show ended tonight, but he was being punished for nothing.
    She frowned. “Zach made the call. He says I have to make sure you get on the plane.”
    “Fuck.” Fuck-fuckity-fuck-fuck-fuck. He wanted to whine that it wasn’t fair, but had a feeling it would get him nowhere. “Fine.” He didn’t trust himself to say more. This was such complete and utter crap. He had to leave the biggest event of the year with his tail tucked between his legs, because some asshole blogger had their panties in a bind. Over something Jordan didn’t even do. It was nice he wasn’t spending the night in a cell.
    The mental assurance didn’t alleviate his irritation.

Chapter Seven
    Liz took a seat near the front of the panel room, where Rinslet would present their demo in about fifteen minutes. It was nice she didn’t have plans for the afternoon, half because memories of Jordan and Chloe had kept her distracted all day. She reminded herself it was okay she hadn’t exchanged numbers with them. One-night stand meant exactly that. Besides, she knew where they worked.
    Wow. That sounded a little stalkery, even in her head. She shook the thought aside. When she saw their names on the schedule under Presenters , she