ALVARA

ii

― ALVARA

I WAKE WITH A POUNDING HEAD.

I'm resting on a narrow bed, squished against a wall and a warm body.

Honey-colored hair, pensive grey eyes.

Kaiser.

I shove him off the bed, and caught off guard, he falls on the floor, cursing.

"The hell was that for?"

"Why are we sharing a bed?" I shriek. "A narrow, dingy, smelly bed?"

"We're being detained," Kaiser says matter-of-factly. "I'm in prison for murder and you're in here with me for sexual harassment."

"Murder?" I repeat groggily. "Sexual harassment?"

"You were groping the female police officer," Kaiser explains. "And I killed a man."

"You killed a man?" I repeat absently, rubbing my temples. My head hurts too much to properly take in his words. I blink wearily at him. I have no idea what time it is due to the lack of window in our small cell. It's not officially prison but it's close to becoming one.

"Wait," I say, slowly piecing things together. Kaiser watches me lazily through his ruffled blond hair, muscular arms tucked behind his head, cool as a cucumber. "You killed a man? And I'm a fed. Why the fuck am I in jail?"

The sound of footsteps prevents Kaiser from responding, and a female police officer stares at us, me on the bed in a torn, bloody dress and Kaiser on the floor, coolly watching the woman in a thin black turtleneck.

"You," she says to me first. "Alvara Imogen Parker. Sent -"

"You're pronouncing it wrong." I interrupt. "It's E-moe-gen, not Eye-mo-gen. And if you were the one I groped, I was really, really drunk. Trust me." She's around fifty and pinched looking. Definitely not my type.

The officer - Officer Sullivan from her tag, bristles. "I understand you're an FBI agent, so it seems that things were misunderstood," she says tightly. She unlocks the cell, watching Kaiser on the floor, who is nodding off again.

I glare at her. "I hope this isn't how you treat other sexual assaulters. Being drunk is definitely not a valid defense to harassing someone."

I spring off the bed, bringing the sheets with me because my ass is probably showing. The slit in my dress was definitely showing a lot more then just my thigh.

Sullivan tosses me a familiar set of gear unceremoniously. After a shower and a change of clothes, I come back to the cell to see Sullivan talking to Kaiser with a spring in my step. Although the headache remains, it's significantly reduced after dunking my head in ice-cold water.

Sullivan raises an eyebrow, seemingly disconcerted that I knew how to find my way back. She recovers quickly. "The FBI has brought a transport so that the suspect may be interrogated, and so that the corpse may be inspected."

"Right." I shoot a cold glance at Kaiser. Although I don't know him well, I don't think he'd just kill anyone for a petty reason. And it explained the way he was so distracted in the club. He was searching for his victim.

I grab Kaiser by the collar, wrenching him to his feet. He doesn't resist, though I have to strain my arm because he's so heavy. Swiftly, I bind him with handcuffs. He doesn't prove any resistance, looking more bored than anything.

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IT'S REMI DRIVING ONE OF THE transport cars and she raises an eyebrow at Kaiser, handcuffed in front of me. I shove him into the backseat unceremoniously. His head bumps into the car painfully and I think I hear him mutter a curse on the way in.