Chapter Six
River
As soon as Davidson pulls off with Jasmine, I hop in my SUV to follow them to the precinct to bail her out. Look, I never said I had a good plan. I just said I had a plan.
And said plan does not involve leaving her sitting in jail.
Hell no. It involves dropping the charges in exchange for the date she stubbornly refuses to go on.
Is it diabolical? Absolutely. Should I be ashamed of myself?
Fuck yes. But I'm losing my mind over this woman.
If I have to resort to blackmail to get a date, then fuck it. I'm resorting to blackmail.
There's a chance I end up murdered in a back alley by a bookworm with anger issues, but it's a chance I'm willing to take.
I dial Alexa Warner, the assistant DA, on the way, my eyes locked on the cruiser ahead of me. I don't think Jasmine has noticed me following them. She's too busy ranting at Davidson, who looks like he's ready to jump out of the cruiser every time he glances in the rearview.
"Alexa Warner," she finally answers on the fifth ring.
"Hey, it's River. I need a favor," I say, rolling to a stop at the sign at the end of the block.
"What the fuck? Did you get arrested?"
"No?"
"Oh, thank god. I do not need an army of readers camped outside my office, mad as hell that your next book is going to be delayed," she sighs, sounding relieved. "What do you need?"
"I need you to refuse to file charges against Jasmine Knudsen. She was just arrested for trespassing on my property."
"Uh…"
"It's a long story."
"I've got time," Alexa says.
"I don't. I'm on the way to bail her out before she kills me for having her arrested in the first place," I say.
"Oh, absolutely not," Alexa says with a shocked laugh. "You do not get to call me for a favor like this and not explain."
Goddammit.
"We're at war," I say, because it's the simplest explanation I've got. "She wants me to speak to her book club. I want her to date me. She's being stubborn about it."
"And you're not?" Alexa laughs in disbelief. "You just had her arrested for trespassing, River. How is that going to get you a date?"
"Simple. I'm going to—"
"Uh-uh!" Alexa cries. "Do not answer that. This is a recorded line, and I know damn well you're about to say something I do not need to know. Couldn't you have convinced her in a normal way, with, I don't know, flowers or something?"
"You clearly don't know Jasmine," I mutter. "Trust me. Jail was my only option here."
"It's your funeral."
"So you do know her." I'm not entirely sure if I'm relieved or disappointed that she's a holy terror to everyone. I think I wanted it to just be me.
"I've been by the bookstore a few times." Alexa laughs again. "You're playing with fire."
"Yeah, well, she started it."
"Real mature, River."
I'm acutely aware of how ridiculous this entire goddamn situation is.
But I've also seen the panic on Jasmine's face anytime I bring up a date.
We both know that isn't because she dislikes me.
She wouldn't have melted for me the way she did today if she disliked me, and she damn sure wouldn't be hounding me like she is if she didn't like me. The problem is deeper than that.
She's refusing because she doesn't dislike me enough, and that scares the hell out of her.
I don't think she wants to know me. I haven't quite worked out why, but I'm guessing it has something to do with my writing.
Does she love it? Hate it? Resent me for taking up space in a predominantly female space? I'm not sure yet.
Was having her arrested extreme? Absolutely.
But sometimes, it takes an extreme response to quiet the panic so you can rationalize your way out of it.
She needs that right now, or we're never going to get beyond the same circular argument where I ask her out, she panics, shoots me down while insulting me, and we rinse and repeat.
Besides, an hour in jail won't hurt her, not when I'm going to make sure no charges are filed, and she's out of there as soon as they're finished processing her.
Maybe cooling her heels in a cell for an hour will keep her from stalking some other author—one who won't hesitate to have her locked up, facing real charges. God knows, with her temper and lack of restraint, that's a distinct possibility.
"Can you make sure no charges are filed?" I ask Alexa as I pull into the precinct parking lot, Davidson circling around to the bay ahead of me.
"Yeah, fine," she sighs. "But if she decides to murder you for this, I'm coming to your funeral just to tell your corpse I told you so."
"She isn't going to murder me." Probably. Christ, I hope not.
"Who arrested her?"
"Alec Davidson."
"I'll call him," Alexa sighs. "Good luck."
"Thanks. I owe you."
"Yep, you do," she says before hanging up.
I pull into a parking spot, then grab my wallet and phone before heading inside. The precinct is old, with a scuffed floor, dirty walls, and a long desk behind glass. The whole place smells like disinfectant, mildew, and stale piss. I step up to the counter, waiting for Paul Thomason to notice me.
"River!" he says, hauling himself out of his seat. "Good to see you, man."
"You too," I murmur. "I'm here to get Jasmine Knudsen. The ADA should be calling about her any minute."
"That the chick Davidson just brought in?" Paul asks, scratching the side of his ruddy face.
"Woman," I correct," and yes."
"Woman, right. Uh, give me a minute to figure out what he's doing with her."
He damn well better not be doing anything with her aside from booking her in, not if he wants to keep his arms.
Paul waddles away, shouting for Davidson. I lean back against the desk, cooling my heels. It takes too goddamn long for him to reappear.
"She's got a mouth on her, doesn't she?" he asks, grinning at me.
"Indeed, she does." I warned her not to say anything for that exact reason. With her mouth, she may very well talk her way into more charges before I get her out of here.
"It'll be a bit before she's ready to go. Davidson is doing the paperwork now."
"Fine. Let me know as soon as she's ready."
"Will do," he says.
A while turns into an hour and a half. By the time they get the paperwork done, I'm no longer sure she isn't going to kill me.
I'm even less sure when Davidson leads me back to see her, and I find her on a bench in a small, dimly-lit holding cell, glaring at the bars like she's trying to melt them with her mind.
She's no longer cuffed, but she's got her feet tucked under her on the bench, almost as if she's afraid to let them touch the grimy floor. Not that I blame her. God only knows what that floor has seen. The stain in the far corner looks like blood. Or shit.
I've seen enough in my life to know it could be either.
"You've got a visitor," Davidson announces to her, still shaking his head like he has no fucking clue what's happening here.
Frankly, I'm not sure I do, either. I just know I want this woman in ways I've never wanted anything, and I'm not just talking about in my bed. I want her in my life, complicating it the way she has since I met her.
She lifts her head, her gaze falling on me as Davidson retreats. If I thought she was pissed when she stomped off in cuffs, I was wrong. She's beyond pissed now.
"Did you know," she says slowly, rising to her feet, "that they fingerprint you when they arrest you? Because I didn't know that, River." She lifts her hands, showing me the ink stains on her fingers. "My fingerprints are in a criminal database now."
They aren't actually. Davidson didn't submit them since Alexa refused to file any charges. Thanks to her, Jasmine won't even have a court date. She's free to go at this point, like this never happened.
Knowing people doesn't suck.
"Do you still want to camp out on my porch forever, princess?" I ask, leaning up against the wall outside of her cell.
"No, actually." She eyes me up and down like she's trying to decide the most painful way to murder me.
"I've decided to bury 900 alarm clocks in your yard, all set for different times of the day.
Just when you think the coast is clear and you can concentrate again, bam!
" She slams her hands together. "There's another one, ruining your life, every single day until the batteries die.
" Her smile is downright savage. "You'll never write at home again. "
"That's cruel."
"So was having me arrested, you overgrown, egotistical, arrogant, insufferable ass!" she cries.
"Are you saying you haven't been stalking me?"
"I was framed."
I throw my head back, my laugh echoing off the cinderblock walls. "Please, walk me through how you came to that conclusion."
"You baited and entrapped me, then had me arrested. And the police are clearly on your side because they refuse to let me file charges against you for extortion and blackmail." She glowers at me. "You paid them off, didn't you?"
"Nope. They just like me." Since I moved here five years ago, I've made friends with half the force. It's not hard to do when they're in the diner damn near every time I am. They keep an eye on my place. I sign shit for their wives. It's a win-win.
"No one likes you, River. You're an ass."
"You want to get out of here?"
"No, I want to stay here and be Bertha's bitch." She rolls her eyes, ignoring the fact that she's in her cell alone. "Of course I want to get out of here. Does anyone ever not want to leave jail?"
"Yes, actually. Happens all the time."
She massages her forehead. "I'm too tired to even ask how you know that."
"I was a guard in a former life."
"What?" She blinks. "Are you serious?"
"As a heart attack. I worked in intake for four years in Los Angeles before my first book was contracted."
"That explains so much," she mumbles…and I'm not entirely sure I even want to know what she thinks it explains. So I don't ask.
"You want me to drop the charges?"
Her hand falls back to her side, her mouth popping open. "Do what?"
"Do you want me to drop the charges?"
"Are you kidding me right now? You had me arrested, just to offer to drop the charges?"
"Yes." I pause. "But I want something in exchange. Go out with me. One date, princess."
"This is blackmail."
"I know. Genius, isn't it?" I say, just like I did the last time we had this conversation.
She splutters in outrage, pacing the length of her cell.
"Look around, babe. I'm your only option."
She hesitates, and I'm certain she's going to agree. I see it in her eyes…surrender.
And then Davidson pops back in, holding up her paperwork. "You're good to go."
Goddammit!
Her mouth snaps closed, her expression turning triumphant. "What was that about you being my only option?"
I just hold her gaze. "Ask him why you're free, Jasmine."
Her expression morphs again, unease filtering in. "My friends bailed me out."
"No, princess. You're free because I had the charges dropped."
She gapes at me, her lips slightly parted, like she can't believe what she's hearing. Hell, maybe she doesn't believe it.
"You were willing to camp on my doorstep to get what you wanted from me," I murmur, pitching my voice so she hears me, but Davidson doesn't. "But I'm willing to do whatever the fuck I have to do to get one date with you, even if it means sending you to jail just so I can bail you right back out again. That's how serious I am about you."
If this is war, I'm going to win because there is no other option. She's already complicated my entire fucking life. I'm willing to turn hers upside down and inside out until she has no choice but to agree to give me a chance. If she didn't want the fight, she shouldn't have picked it.
"You…you…" she splutters.
"Yeah, me," I smirk at her, loving the way her eyes are dark and stormy and a little awed at the same time. "You started this war, princess. I intend to win it."
I don't get her time to process or come up with a retort. I know if I wait long enough, she'll bounce back and shoot me down again. I don't want that. I want her to sit with what I just said, absorb it, and realize that I mean it.
"See you later, baby," I say instead, tapping the bars of her cell before I turn and stride away, leaving her gaping after me.