Nightfall (Devil's Night #4) - Penelope Douglas Page 0,213

for the message pad and the pen next to the computer, but he waved me off.

“Take it back yourself,” he said. “You know the way.”

My eyebrows shot up. Really? I thought I was going to have to try to sneak past him when he took the note back himself, but here I was, getting a hall pass.

I walked around the counter, toward the double doors. “Is he in the big office now?”

“Sounds like him, doesn’t it?” Germaine grumbled.

Yeah. I didn’t think Germaine thought much of my brother, either. Martin was only thirty-four, and he’d quickly risen through the ranks of Thunder Bay and then Meridian City, shrewd in playing his cards, but I suspected he had help and endorsements along the way. Germaine was easily in his fifties and still…manning the desk.

“Thanks,” I called out. “It’s good to see you.”

“You, too.”

I pushed through the doors, finding the entire precinct empty, a radio playing somewhere, and computers paused on screens.

Making my way toward the holding cells, I grabbed a ring of keys off Bruckheimer’s desk and looked up, making direct eye contact with the camera in the corner of the ceiling.

I clenched my teeth. This better work. If he came after Will, he’d have to come after me, too, now that I’d been seen, and that would be embarrassing for him.

Pushing through the door, I saw Will standing in the cell, alone in the room with his arms draped through the bars.

I dropped my eyes, finding the key, my heart thundering in my chest. We just had to get out of here.

I didn’t want to know if he had a cell to himself in prison, or if Kai or Damon were with him. I just wanted him out.

I stuck the key in the lock, my hand shaking as he stared down at me, and I twisted it, yanking the door open.

But Will pulled it closed again. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Dammit. I twisted the key again and pulled the door, but he fisted the bars, holding it closed.

“I have a meeting with your brother in the morning,” he stated.

What the hell? I shot my eyes up to him and fixed my glasses, wanting to yell at the jerk, but we needed to get the hell out of here.

I pulled at the door again, growling when it didn’t give.

“Who let you out of your room?” he asked.

“Will!” I begged. “Please!”

We could talk later, for crying out loud.

I tried to pull at the door again, but he reached through the bars and grabbed me by my jeans instead, yanking me in. His mouth crashed down on mine, and for a moment, I was lost in how good he felt.

God.

My nerves were on fire. I wanted him out of here. I wanted him away from Martin.

I wanted him…

I wanted him.

I whimpered as his tongue caressed mine, and I barely even registered what he was doing until cool air hit my breasts and his hand slid down my jeans, between my legs.

He stroked me, his head dipping down and sucking my breast into his mouth through the fucking bars.

“We’re going to get caught,” I said.

He wasn’t listening, though. He came back up, and I held his face as he hovered over my mouth and slipped his fingers over my clit.

“I’m glad you didn’t visit me in prison,” he whispered. “I wouldn’t have been able to stand staring at this through a piece of fucking glass for over two years.”

I kissed him, feeling the goddamn torture of the bars between us.

Never again.

“Breaking me out of jail?” he taunted. “He’s going to hang you for this.”

I kissed him again, panting, “He has to get through you first, right?”

He smiled, his ego liking the sound of that. “Yeah, he does.”

“Please, baby.” I pulled at the bars. “Please?”

I kissed him again, moaning, and finally, he released me. “Fuck him. Let’s go.”

I stumbled back, righting my clothes again, and he swung open the door, taking my hand and pulling me.

We ran back into the office area, and I tossed the keys back onto Bruckheimer’s desk as we raced through the rear door and out into the night.

Digging in our heels, we hurried across the street, darts of cold rain hitting my head as we made our way to the waiting car.

“Get in!” Damon yelled. “Hurry!”

We jumped into the backseat, slamming the door, and Damon hit the gas, speeding off down the road. I dove into the third-row bench seat, looking out the back window for any sign that we