Shelby's sigh is half strangled cat this time. "I don't want bail," she grinds out with the stubborn set to her jaw returning. "I'm not leaving this delightful Disneyesque establishment." She gestures around with a sweep of her arms. "I just need you to let Daisy out and feed him. If you do, I'll owe you a favor."

A favor. That's priceless. I look at her. She's dressed in jean shorts more conservative than any prostitute wears and a rainbow tank top that shows off her ...