No in Between (Inside Out #4)(24)

David picks up a slice of pizza. “Before I answer, just know this. I don’t approve of either of you spending time with Mark, let alone at the gallery.” He sets his pizza on his plate.

“The bail hearing, David,” Chris urges.

“Right,” he says. “The bail hearing. There will be no witness testimony, so you can both rest easy there.”

I blink in confusion. “I didn’t know it was even an option.”

“Bail adjustment hearings allow limited testimony in the interest of public safety,” David explains. “But the DA doesn’t seem to want to complicate the situation, which I think is smart. He has four witnesses including you, Sara, who say the defendant tried to kill you. We don’t need the defense to start character assassinations now. They’ll get to that later.”

Chris fills my plate, but food is the last thing on my mind right now. “What character assassinations?”

David swipes a napkin over his mouth. “Your honesty and character will be tested. It’s expected, but I think it’s going to get nasty in this case. I have an insider at the DA’s office who tells me the defense threatened the DA.”

Chris abandons a bite of pizza halfway to his mouth. “Threatened?”

David nods and swallows nearly half a slice in one bite. “Apparently the defense said in a not-so-subtle way that the press would”—he makes quotations marks with his fingers—“‘accidentally’ get a story about a seedy sex club, murder, and some kind of other bullshit mayhem. My insider’s choice of words, not mine.”

I’m reeling at the prospect that Ava could be set free. “You think they’re so worried about the press that they’d let her walk?”

David shoves aside his pizza, which tells me we’re now in serious territory. “Easing up on Ava at the hearing won’t stop her defense from going public after the bond is in place. That’s what I came here to talk about tonight. Even if they don’t like it, the DA is prepared for Friday to become a press frenzy. My guess is Ava’s folks will throw every name and diversion into the hat they can find.”

“Meaning me and you, baby,” Chris adds. “And being at the gallery is only going to put us more in the spotlight.” He turns to me, and there’s no missing the grim set to his jaw. “We’re witnesses against Ava, and because we aren’t involved in the four-way that group had going on, we’re the most credible. They could very well attack us. You have to be ready for this to be all about headlines. The club. BDSM. Me. You.”

“Right,” David concurs. “And while I can protect you from everything in the court system, I can’t protect you from the press unless they slander you.”

My heart lurches. Suddenly the scandal seems like a much bigger worry than it did moments before. “What about Chris and his charity work? This could ruin him.”

“Baby, I’m fine. I can handle my charity.”

“You can’t be sure of that,” I argue. “Lance Armstrong created Livestrong and they had to break free of him to survive.” I turn to David. “Can we threaten them with slander charges now?”

David grimaces. “That’s not an option.”

“Why? They could ruin Chris, and—”

“Sara, sugar,” he interrupts, his tone as condescending as it gets. “The detectives were wrong. You’re the one who needs to lay off the caffeine. Let me do my job.”

My jaw drops. Did he really just call me “sugar,” and tell me to let him do his job? I’m officially at my threshold for arrogant *s today. Then his phone rings again, and he answers it without so much as a raised finger.

“Sara,” Chris says, squeezing my leg to get my attention.

I tear my gaze from David and look at Chris. “His job should include protecting your reputation and your career.”

“Baby—”

“Don’t ‘baby’ me right after he called me sugar,” I snap. “I’m going to the bathroom to deep breathe.”

His grip tightens on my leg. “He’s just high-strung.”

“If you try to keep me here, be warned that I have a very vivid fantasy in my head right now, which involves me dumping a pitcher of beer over David’s head.”

He grins and lets go of my leg.

“I thought you’d agree.” I head toward the restroom sign, go down a narrow hallway, and lock myself in the small room, where I lean on the sink. David’s dismissing the real danger the press could do to Chris. We can’t wait until it’s already happened to come up with a plan.

I’ve barely had time to think when a knock sounds on the door. “Sara.”

I unlatch the door and Chris enters, locking the door behind him. Certain he’s here to sing David’s merits, I say, “He’s an *, Chris. The press cyclone is going to hit, and we have to be ready. We have to get you cleared, and you have to go to Paris and do your charity event, away from all of this. Distance yourself from this nightmare. You have to.”

He backs me against the counter, his hips pressed to mine, and the teasing, sweet lover of moments before is nowhere to be found. His jaw is tight, his eyes hard. “Did you really just suggest I leave you to deal with this alone?”

“Yes, but—”