Phoebe knew something was up before she reached the cell in the local, not federal, section of the jail. When the cop opened the door, the hair on the back of her neck rose in warning. She stepped far enough through the door so he could close it, but no farther.
“Be nice to the new girl, Holly,” the cop said with a smirk before strolling off.
Phoebe heard a low growl from the shadows of the lower bunk. The bed creaked, then groaned as Holly rolled over and got up. She was beautiful. Tall and formed like an magnificent sss, she had a rioting mop of red hair and hard purple eyes. Her lush body strained every seam of the drab prison garb. The pointed red tips of lethal-looking nails fanned across her hips as she surveyed Phoebe with a distinct lack of welcome. Phoebe had a feeling Holly’s “
