Page 185 of Titus

“Yes.” He nodded. “Unless Mr. Hawk insists we remain behind, we are with him.”

“You guys are really good, then,” I said.

“It’s what Mr. Hawk expects of his security detail,” Marcus said. “This may be the last you see of us after we return, but I will port my number to your phone for anything you may need.”

“Okay,” I said, nodding.

Jesus. Of course, Titus had his security detail in constant stealth mode. It was strange to know they’d have eyes on me, but relieving as well, since I really had no idea what the fuck was going on or why Titus was even in jail right now.

The moment I stepped off the elevator onto the executive floor of Mitchell and Associates, I realized something. The world might have been losing its mind over Titus, who had been all over the goddamn news since his arrest, but thank God Jim Mitchell wasn’t.

“I’m here to see Mr. Mitchell,” I informed his secretary, Brooke.

“He’s been expecting you,” she said. “Follow me.”

“That’s okay. I know where his office is, thanks,” I said, eager to get to Jim and see what the man knew.

I walked in and saw Jim behind his desk, reviewing a stack of documents, and Spencer sat in one of the leather chairs across from Jim, quietly reviewing a file.

“Good evening, Cat,” he said, standing and pointing to a leather chair next to Spencer. “Have a seat, and I’ll fill you in on what we know.”

“Do you know how he’s doing?” I asked, sitting in the chair.

“He’s okay,” Jim said.

“How are you, Cat?” Spencer asked.

“Um,” I looked at him with the disbelief I felt at the moment. “I think I’m just in shock.”

“Yeah, I believe that.” He smiled sympathetically. “Titus finally got his wish to be with you, and then the feds came for his sorry ass.”

I let out a soft laugh. “Yeah, I don’t think that was his ideal ending of our private getaway.”

Jim smirked. “Let’s hope we can get to the bottom of this quickly.”

“Do you have any idea if or when they’ll release him?”

“Not at the moment.” Jim folded his hands on his desk.

“Where are they holding him?”

“Federal detention in Los Angeles,” Jim answered.

“Have you seen him yet?”

Jim leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “No.”

“No?”

“Federal processing works differently than most people think. His attorneys have access to see him. Unfortunately, the rest of us do not.”

“Jesus,” I said.

“It’ll be at least seventy-two hours before we’re able to know anything directly from him,” Spencer said. “Colton and Wyatt aren’t even able to access him.”

I folded my arms across my chest. “What exactly are they accusing him of?”

Jim and Spencer exchanged a glance. The kind of exchange between men who had already discussed the answer a dozen times.