Sitting up, I clutched the sheet to my chest. “What is it?” My stomach sank, the afterglow from last night gone.

“Paparazzi and cop cars. Throw something on. The cops are headed to the door.” Jumping out of bed, I scavenged the room for my panties and bra, putting them on fast. I’d only worn them for an hour or so, but I still wanted clean clothes. Clothes that I couldn’t get to without going into the studio where my bag was. I donned the dress over my head and smoothed my hair just as the knocking came. Jack looked back at me and I nodded for him to open it.

Two officers and a guy in a suit pressed into the room, slamming the door shut. Jack reached for his shirt, and pulled it over his head as the police entered the tiny apartment. I leaned against the counter in the kitchenette, heart pounding. Something was wrong.

“Jack Gray, I’m afraid we aren’t here with good news. If you’ll finish getting dressed, I need you to come with us.” The man in the dark suit spoke calmly, his eyes meeting Jack’s. He was slightly leaner and taller than Jack, a blonde mustache clinging to his top lip.

“Nate,” Jack replied, “What’s this about? Why is the press camped on my front lawn?”

Nate ignored his question, nodding at me, “Abigail Tyndale?” I nodded. “You’ll be coming with us also.” One of the uniformed officers moved toward me, reaching around to remove the handcuffs from his belt.

Jack stepped between us, stopping the man, “What the fuck is going on? Nate?” he looked at the guy in the suit, fury glowing in his eyes. “Are we under arrest?”

Nate nodded. There was sympathy in his voice, “Listen, Jack. Someone steam-plowed you. Evidence came in last night that your studio isn’t what we thought.”

“What the hell do you think it is?” Tension lined Jack’s body.

“I can’t talk to you, Jack. I would have come without the press, but someone tipped them off. You’ve been accused of running a prostitution ring, and Miss Tyndale is your newest girl.”

My jaw fell open. For the first time, I talked, “What?” My voice came out in a rush, more forceful than I’d intended. “You think I’m a hooker?”

“The charge is trading sexual favors for money. I have to remove you both from the premises in handcuffs. I’m sorry, Jack.” The man in the suit waved to the officers to cuff us.

Jack’s eyes were wide. He didn’t move away from me, “Nate, this is Belinda’s shit. You can’t possibly believe her? She’s been trying to screw me for years!”

Nate turned to Jack, shaking his head, “Last night other girls gave testimonies about their association with you and your company, Jack. It’s not Belinda. A judge already signed the arrest warrants. You think we’d come in here empty handed and risk you suing our asses off?” He shook his head. “Jack, this looks bad. Your accounts have been frozen, your studio and all its contents are being confiscated. Someone has you by the balls. You’re fucked, my friend. Call your lawyer, but I can’t do more than that. My hands are tied and people are watching. I can’t make exceptions for you or I’ll catch hell for it.”

Every muscle in Jack’s body was corded tight, like he was going to explode. Fear was choking me into silence. I watched the silver cuffs in the cop’s hand as Jack called his lawyer. The last thing he said was, “Get Abby’s name out of this and make it so it never happened.” He looked up at me, after hanging up. “I’m sorry, Abby. We have to go.”

I shook my head, not wanting to make things harder than they already were. I held out my wrists. The cold metal bit into my skin. The officer started to lead me to the door, but Jack spoke, “Take her out the back. Nate, please. This has nothing to do with her. Even if I clear my name, you know what happens to women accused of this shit. It sticks. Don’t feed her to the press. Nate.” Jack spoke to him like they were friends, like they knew each other.

Nate turned his brown eyes to me, then back to Jack, “Someone’s got to go out the front, Jack.”

Jack held his wrists up, “Done. Take me out the front. Now.” The cop put his hand on my back, leading me to the back door. There were still people there, but everyone would be watching the front door when Jack stepped out. “I’ll fix this, Abby. I promise.” The suit and the cop pushed Jack through the front door. Camera flashes and people yelling, asking questions, wafted through the empty room. The cop waited half a beat and then ushered me through the backdoor. I held my head low, hands cuffed in front, as he opened the squad car and helped me inside. The cop didn’t speak. Just as he closed the door, I heard it. The press turned and saw me leaving in another car. Questions were hurling at us, but the cop started the car and drove away.

Everything after that was a blur. Tears stung my eyes, making it impossible to see. Someone read me my rights, I was fingerprinted, photographed, and read my charges. Prostitution. My stomach sank. A female officer repeated herself, “Do you know what’s happening to you? Do you know where you are? Do you understand what you’re being charged with?” I shook my head slowly, afraid to look at her. The holding cells around me were filled with men, all of who looked depraved and murderous. I could feel their eyes on my body, watching me. The cop that brought me in escorted me out of that area and into the back. He unlocked a cell door and I stepped inside. My heart sank as I heard it clunk shut behind me. It was everything I could manage to not cry. This place terrified me.

Before I turned around, a familiar voice rang in my ears, “So you weren’t the mole after all.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

I turned around and saw Linda sitting on a bench. She was the only person in the cell. Relief flooded through me. “Linda, what are you doing here?”

Dark bags clung under her eyes, “I’m an accomplice in Long Island’s elite prostitution ring, or so I’ve been told.” Her arms were folded over her chest, her head tilted back against the wall. “And what’s your crime? Actually hooking? Or something else?”

I sat down hard next to her, “Hooker.” Staring at the floor, I felt the rage I’d been repressing bubble up inside of me. “Who did this to him, Linda?”

“Don’t know, hun.” She crossed her ankles, her slacks completely wrinkled. “For a while, I thought it was you. When you came back is when all this crap came to the surface.” She shook her head, “Obviously I’ve changed my theory since you’re sitting next to me. But whoever it was, they planned everything perfectly. This will damn him, ruin his career and he’ll lose everything—every penny. The government will seize it as ill-gotten gains.”

My mouth hung open. I stared at her, “I don’t understand how someone could do this. How could they toss away three lives like this? My reputation is gone, so is yours. And Jack, oh my God... “ I shook my head, lowering it into my hands.

“None of us saw it coming. And whoever did it somehow sweet-talked a judge into signing arrest warrants without physical proof.”

My stomach sank, “He said they have proof.”

Linda closed her eyes and let out a rush of air. She leaned forward and put her face in her hands. “Shit. We’re fucked, Abby. All of us.” She sat back, looking at me, “What proof? Paper? Testimony?”

“It sounded like both. Linda, think—who would do this to him? Who hates him that much?”

The older woman shook her head, her eyes glassy. “I don’t know, hun. I just don’t know.”

The jailer called my name, “Abigail Tyndale, you made bail. Please step over to the bars.” I looked back at Linda. “How long have you been here?”

“About 14 hours, now,” she replied, leaning back against the wall, kicking her feet out. Thinly contained rage played out on her face.

“Jack doesn’t know you’re here. I’ll make sure they get you out fast.” The woman didn’t answer. She stared straight ahead, nodded once, and continued to gaze at the cinderblock wall like she was willing it to explode.

I walked out of the cell and through the back of the jail to a car waiting out back. It was a sleek black Beamer. The jailer opened the door and I was pushed inside. Jack wasn’t there. The door slammed shut. Instead, there was a handsome man with mocha skin and a slick suit sitting next to me. A phone was pressed to his ear and he was saying, “His assets are frozen and he’s not a flight risk, Kenny. What the fuck are they doing?” He uh-huhed a few times and snapped his phone shut. The car lurched forward.

“Miss Tyndale, I wish we could have met under better circumstances.” He held out his hand and I took it. Shaking it, he said, “Phil Green, Mr. Gray’s lawyer.” I wanted to ask him what happened, where Jack was. As if he could read my face, he said, “I’ll fill you in on the way. Jack’s fine, but he’s still in holding. His assets were frozen and his bail amount supersedes his liquid assets. I have to move a few things, and he should be out in a few hours.” It felt like I was kicked in the stomach. Jack in jail with those people for hours? “You were easier to extract, lower bail.”

“Linda is in there too.” I added. “I’m sure Jack doesn’t know. Can we get her out too?”

Phil nodded, writing something on a tablet. “See anyone else in there? Gus, maybe?”

I shook my head. “So Gus did this?”

The lawyer shrugged, “Since he’s the only one not in jail, it stands to reason.”

I sat back as we drove to Kate’s apartment. I groaned when I saw the press camped out in front of the building. Phil said, “I’ll get you inside. Try to wait it out and they’ll go away. The first three days will suck, but if you don’t give them anything, they leave. If you give them more stuff to feed off of, they’ll never leave. Understand?” He spoke to me directly, like I was traumatized. I nodded, hating every moment of this. “Your roommate is already aware of this and will open the door for you. Go straight inside. Jack will be in touch.”