Wearing the scratchy jail clothes for the last three days had been seriously unpleasant, and he was determined to ban the color orange from his sight. But how much better were things now? For three weeks and more, twenty-four painful days, he was going to be stuck in denim and cotton, and even worse.
Polyester.
Tomorrow he had to put on a flipping Santa costume. Just the thought made his head itch. Who knows how many sweaty bodies had been in the same suit? He’d insisted that his assistant have it professionally cleaned. At least the senile judge had allowed him that much.
The man obviously needed to retire. It was long overdue and the judge looked like freaking Santa Claus himself. Maybe Judge Kragle should be the one down at the mall letting a bunch of sticky, snot-nosed brats climb all over him.
“Let’s go,” one of the officers said, this time not as pleasantly.
Tanner had dragged his feet long enough. If he didn’t walk with them willingly, the fuzz were going to throw the handcuffs back on him and escort him through the building in a far less dignified manner than by simply walking behind him.
This day just kept on getting better.
He’d at least managed to talk the officers into allowing him to leave through his private penthouse entrance. The last thing he wanted at his exclusive high-rise was for anyone, rich, poor, or in between, to see him being escorted off to the cheap streets by some of Seattle’s finest.
Undignified? As if!
Stepping from his apartment, he gave a long-suffering sigh as he pushed the elevator button and moved inside.
“Don’t you guys have more important things to do than escort a law-abiding citizen around?” Tanner asked.
One of the officers threw his a scornful glance. “Are you suggesting that we’re slackers, Mister Tanner?”
“I would never think that,” Tanner replied. “I was just saying that there are people out there who are actually committing crimes, and yet you’re both here ‘escorting’ me when I’ve never broken the law in my life.”
“I beg to differ, Mr. Storm,” the other officer snapped. “My mother lives in your new apartment complex. Or your old one. I think that having you stay there is sweet justice. Maybe this Christmas you’ll actually find a heart.” The guy snickered despite himself.
“Didn’t your mother tell you that I offered each tenant a large sum to move out?”
“I hate men like you, men who think they can solve all the world’s problems by throwing their wallets around. My mom has been in that building for thirty-five years. She has friends there, history, and she doesn’t want to leave. She just wants the heat and water to work correctly, and for rodents and bugs to not crawl all over everything she owns.”
“That’s the exact reason I want to condemn the building and start over,” Tanner said. He couldn’t hide his frustration.
“The building is solid, and it wouldn’t take much to bring it up to code,” the officer told him heatedly. “You just need to get your priorities straight.”
Tanner didn’t feel like saying anything else as the elevator doors opened and the three of them stepped out into the garage.
The police car was waiting for him. When he hit his head as they helped him inside, his lips compressed.
Three weeks. He just had to remember this would be for only three weeks.
Chapter Three
As Tanner found himself traveling the streets of Seattle in the back of a smelly police cruiser, he decided he was done talking to anyone and everyone. When they arrived at what would be his home for more than the next three miserable weeks, he couldn’t keep the disgusted look from his face as one the officers opened the back door and grinned — yes, it was the one whose mother lived in the building. Tanner didn’t feel too protected right now, and he really wanted to point out to both officers that it was their job to serve and protect, wasn’t it?
But this cop was enjoying the authority part of his job far too much for Tanner’s liking — the guy looked like he was itching to use his club, or even his gun. He was probably another underpaid public servant who thought men like Tanner needed to be knocked down a peg or two. No respect for the people who ensured he had a job by paying so much in taxes. Or it seemed like a lot, anyway.
“Have a pleasant stay, Mr. Storm,” the officer said before tipping his hat and leaving Tanner standing on the broken sidewalk.
Those cops weren’t worried he’d run now. They’d find him instantly, thanks to the device on his damned ankle. Thank the heavens the thing wasn’t too big and he could hide it with a thick pair of socks. His humiliation would be complete if anyone saw the depths to which he’d fallen.
Deciding his self-pity party had gone on long enough, Tanner pulled hard on the building’s heavy front door, which desperately needed some lubricant on the hinges. He was grateful to see no one about as he began his trek down the hallway. He wasn’t there to make friends, and he didn’t feel like speaking to a single person. The only people he’d likely find living here willingly were the type for whom burning in hell seemed appropriate.
Tanner reached his apartment, and he was almost afraid to open the door. The hallways weren’t cluttered, but the paint was peeling and there was a musty smell in the air as if there were leaks that no one had bothered to patch up. He was sure mold was running rampant throughout the place.
That had to be a health risk — wouldn’t it allow him to have the building condemned? He hadn’t even bothered looking through the reports from the inspection yet — he left that kind of thing to his employees. Maybe it was time he went through them himself, line by line. He did have a lot of extra time on his hands for most of the next month, even with all the hours he had to wear a Santa costume. All he knew for sure was that he wanted to tear the outdated building down and start fresh. It would certainly be a lot less hassle.
His legal team had quickly put the kibosh on the crap about historical value that local societies had spouted. Anyway, he couldn’t care less if the crown moldings had been handcrafted by early settlers of the area.
He wanted new. He wanted modern.
Squaring his shoulders, Tanner stepped inside his “new” apartment and looked around. The size of the place surprised him. A large living room was separated by a breakfast bar from a decent-sized kitchen. The appliances were extremely outdated, but the apartment wasn’t as filthy as he was expecting.
Huge windows opened out onto the grungy street, but Tanner saw potential for the neighborhood, especially since every area except his building was cleaned up. The riffraff living in the building ensured that this particular neighborhood remained sketchy, but he’d been told that respectable businesses would come back if this building was replaced. Nearby, a new complex was in line to be completed next year. Things were improving here, dammit.