The Outlaw Prince's Captive - Holly Rayner Page 0,52

a suspect in an active investigation,” Voles said. “At least, you were a member of this department.”

Francesca had expected to feel something more at the idea of being fired than she did. “All right,” she said. “I’m fired, then. Does that mean I can go? If I don’t work for you, I definitely don’t have to listen to you lecture me about my personal conduct.”

“I’m afraid not,” Voles said. “Because you also interfered with a criminal investigation. You snuck a fugitive back into this country, and you failed to turn him in. That’s a crime.”

“You’re going to arrest me?”

In response, Voles motioned to someone behind her, outside the office. The door opened and Chuck Stevens stepped in.

“Agent Stevens is being reassigned to this case,” Voles said.

“You meant him to have it all along,” Francesca said, staring at Voles, not backing down. “You knew that Laird and I would irritate the royal family by investigating Lindström, and then you would have to pull us from the case. You only ever assigned us to go after him because you thought we were disposable.”

Voles ignored her. “Agent Stevens, please place Agent Bellucci under arrest for aiding and abetting a criminal and interfering with a federal investigation.”

Stevens pulled out a pair of handcuffs. “No hard feelings, Bellucci,” he said. “You know how this goes.” He moved toward her and took her by the arm, pulling her to her feet.

“Wait a minute,” Francesca protested, her heart hammering. “Wait a minute. I want my phone call. I’m entitled to a phone call.”

“You’ll get your phone call at the police station,” Voles said, turning his attention back to his computer. “Get her out of here.”

The police station was grimy and loud. Exhausted-looking people—no doubt waiting to bail some errant friend or relative out of a lockup they’d landed themselves in overnight—slumped in the orange chairs against the walls. The smell of burnt coffee permeated the place.

“I want my phone call,” Francesca said, for what felt like the dozenth time.

She had been photographed and fingerprinted. In a moment, she knew, they would take her to a cell, and then they would walk away and stop paying her any attention. She needed to make sure she got a chance to use the phone before that happened.

“All right,” the police officer said. He was neither friendly nor unfriendly. He seemed indifferent to her presence, and she supposed he was exhausted from the sheer volume of people passing through his jail.

Chuck Stevens was still there, leaning against a wall indolently and watching her. Francesca had the feeling he wasn’t planning on leaving until he got to see the cell door close behind her.

“Does he need to be here?” she asked the police officer.

“FBI business,” Stevens said, flashing his badge.

“I’d like to make my phone call privately,” Francesca said.

The officer shook his head. “Sorry. You’re entitled to a call, not a private call.”

That was true, maddening though it was. She picked up the phone that hung on the wall and frowned. How was she going to do this without revealing herself to Stevens?

Viggo answered his phone on the first ring. “Hello?”

“You pick up strange numbers now?” she asked him.

“I do when you’re not home,” he said. “I thought it might be you. Is something wrong?”

He thought it might be me. Her heart fluttered. That didn’t sound like someone who had only slept with her because she was the only game in town.

“Kind of,” she said. “I got arrested.”

He was quiet for a long moment.

“Because of me,” he said at last. It wasn’t a question.

She couldn’t deny it. “It’s complicated,” she hedged, not wanting to reveal who she was talking to.

He wasn’t having it. “It’s because of me,” he said. “It’s because you helped me. You broke the law to do it.”

He sounded so distressed.

“Well,” she said, “it’s not as if I’m out of options.”

“What options do you have?”

“That’s hard to talk about right now.”

He hesitated. “Oh, there are people there with you, aren’t there?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“And you don’t want them to know…that you’re talking to me?”

“Exactly.”

“But I don’t know what I need to do,” he said. “Should I bail you out? I have the money.”

“No, they’re not going to let me out on bail,” she said. “There are only two ways I’m getting out of here. Either I’ll be convicted, in which case I’ll be taken to federal prison—”

“I’m not going to let that happen,” he said firmly.

“The other thing that could happen is that they could discover who’s really guilty of