"Shit." I ended the call and returned the phone to the driest part of the towel. Hurrying now, I finished rinsing my hair and practically leapt out of the tub, feeling dirtier, mentally anyway, than when I'd gotten in.
By the time I'd dressed and dried my hair, the phone had rung at least seven more times from seven different numbers. Each time, I forced myself to answer. And each time, the caller had been Rango.
Apparently, hehadn'tbeen lying about the phones.
Goodie for him.
As for me, I wanted answers. Not from Rango. From Jake. If he had, in fact, paid for my car, I really needed to know – not only to thank him, but also, to find some way of paying him back.
Soon, I was heading down the building's stairway, figuring it would be quicker than waiting for the elevator. I was halfway down when my cell phone rang yet again.
Damn it.
