Page 25 of Remnants
“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand. Has someone filed charges?”
The officer shifts on his feet. “No…”
“Has someone filed a report? Or requested there be an investigation?”
He frowns. “That’s difficult to say until the patients wake up.”
“Wouldn’t it make more sense to wait for them to wake up and see if they ask for the police before you think to interrogate people?”
“That’s—”
“Oh, hello, Officer!” Cibrina hurries down the hallway, her heels clicking on the linoleum floor and her legs moving as much as they can in a tight sheath dress. She looks out of breath when she offers her smile to the police officer. “Do you mind if you and I go somewhere private to talk for a minute?”
“Did you also bring in these patients?” he asks gruffly.
Jackson strolls down the other side of the hallway, his gaze locked on the officer. He drags a few throwing knives from his hoodie that he somehow smuggled into the hospital. His eyes slide to mine, and I give the barest shake of my head.
“I’m his attorney,” Cibrina replies.
The policeman nods. “Very well, then.” He gives me a look, and I have a feeling this won’t be the last I’ll see of him.
Biting back all the things I want to say, I tilt my head in acknowledgment and watch Cibrina lead him away.
Jackson stops at the doorway.
“You were gone longer than I thought you’d be.”
He smiles and shrugs. “Cibrina asked for some assistance with cameras.” He pulls a cake pop from his kangaroo pocket and bites the top half. “Got some snacks, too.”
Good. Time to eat before I head back to the Tower.
Or the police station.
Chapter eight
Raegan
Iscrunchmynoseat the smell of burning food. On the couch, I’m leaning into Jackson’s side as we stare at the news playing on the TV in the Loft, the guys’ primary residence and a full floor apartment in the Tower. I’m not actually watching it; that’s what Aiden is occupied with from his seat at the dining table while simultaneously responding to messages on his phone. I’m not sure how he can respond to people and listen to the news at the same time, but apparently, he’s able to do both.
“What’s burning?” I mutter when the smell only gets worse, and I don’t see Jackson or Aiden jumping up to do anything about it.
Kellan curses from the kitchen, and I crane my neck around to catch a glimpse of him popping the toaster and pinching blackened bread.
“The numbers on the dial are the number of minutes you want the bread toasted for,” Aiden remarks, his gaze still trained on his phone.
“I know that,” Kell grinds out. “I just forgot to check whichnumbers they were on. Who had them turned all the way to the right?”
The plate of burned toast suddenly floats in front of me, stopping in front of Jackson. He plucks the top piece off, holding it out to me, and I vehemently shake my head. “No, thanks.”
He shrugs and takes a large bite, the crunch loud enough to hear. “Food’s food,” he says with a smile, then goes for another.
“Yeah, but I like to enjoy the taste of it when I eat.” I’m mesmerized by Jack devouring the charred bread without making a face. I think I’m waiting for him to crack, to show some sign that he doesn’t like the taste, but he just smirks wider at me for watching.
“Eggs are almost up,” Kellan announces.
“Are these ones edible?” Aiden questions dryly, but I don’t judge him for it. It’s an honest question.
Kellan smacks the spatula against the counter. “No complaints! Unless you want to cook while Rapunzel sleeps the day away, this is what you get. Or you could wake him up and ask if he feels like cooking.”
