Part 10 (1/2)

”I did. That's why I'm here.”

”Cole didn't kill that woman. He arrived at the Fletcher house after I did.”

”I know. He...he was with me before that.”

Jason's dark eyes turn black as I speak, sending icy cold fear down my spine. But when he speaks, his words surprise me. ”I'm sorry.”

I wait for more. He doesn't give it, and I don't know what to say. What is he sorry for? He didn't do anything. If anyone needs to be sorry, it's Cole, but even then...he's never hidden who he is. I went into last night with my eyes wide open. A meaningless f.u.c.k with a bad boy.

Obviously, that's exactly what I got.

If I'm a suck who can't handle that, it's on me.

”I'm prepared to make a statement to the police.” My entire body is shaking now, but it's the right thing to do. ”I'd prefer to do it as discretely as possible, of course, but-”

Jason stands suddenly and I cut myself off. He starts pacing as he shoves his hands into his pockets.

”I mean, the discretion isn't as important as clearing Cole's name,” I continue, my mouth dry. I remember the bottle of water Ellie pressed into my hands and I twist off the cap. ”It's just...”

”You don't need to do this,” Jason says, now staring out the window. His voice is strong and clear, showing none of the nerves rioting through my body. ”If it's too much of a bother.”

”Excuse me?” I push myself to a stand. ”It's not a bother. It's the right thing to do. But I have a right to try and protect myself.” Someone has to. Cole certainly didn't think about me before walking into the middle of a crime scene and making himself the prime suspect.

Jason shrugs, and white hot rage replaces the nerves inside me. I cast about for the right words, but none come. I don't understand what it is we're doing here, and as mad as I am at Cole, I wonder if anyone here has his back.

After a beat, Jason turns around, his t-s.h.i.+rt pulling against his straining biceps. Even at rest, he's a pit bull. Where Cole is big in a safe, protective way, Jason is scary looking. The p.i.s.sed-off look on his face doesn't help.

”Maybe it would be best if you leave before he gets here.”

”He's coming here?” I squeeze my hands together, distracted by the thought that Cole is, at least temporarily, free. ”So...what does that mean?”

Another shrug. I really hate Jason's shoulders right now. ”Tag and our lawyer are at the station now. He hasn't been taken to central booking, as far as I know. He might not be charged with anything today.”

I don't understand. Hasn't he been arrested?

”All of this is beyond me, and I don't get why you're mad at me, when I haven't done anything, but if I can move that might to a definitely won't be, I want to help.”

Jason opens his mouth and pauses before saying something obviously different from his first thought. ”Look, you don't need to worry about Cole. He's a big boy.”

f.u.c.k that noise.

”I'm not going anywhere until I see him.” I sit down and pull out my phone.

It's a long, silent minute before Jason grunts. ”Fine. Suit yourself.”

-two-.

Cole.

Jail would be better than sitting across a desk from Detective Kendra Browning in the middle of the precinct like I've been brought to heel.

A Russian gulag might be better. Kendra makes my nuts want to crawl back into my body for protection.

Sure, she's beautiful. Smart. One of the good guys.

The problem is, I am not.

”Mr. Parker, you need to answer my questions.”

I only want one woman calling me Mr. Parker, and it's not Kendra. I stare back at her, confident in my Miranda-protected right to shut the f.u.c.k up. Being under arrest is a pain in my a.s.s. And she won't even put me in an interrogation room so I can demand my lawyer and be left alone.

I've been here for an hour, after being transferred from another precinct. I'm not sure why Major Case wasn't involved from the start, and I don't really care. I just need to hang tight until one of my partners shows up with a lawyer, then I can go and find the a.s.shole who killed Anabeth Fletcher.

If it's my client, that's going to be awkward, but I don't think it is. We only had just over an hour with him before the police showed up-presumably called by someone who knew there was a dead body in the house.

Someone responsible for that death.

The entire time we were there, he was in shock. Real shock, not an act.

That'll happen when you don't remember falling asleep, then wake up in your den, a gun in your hand and a dead wife upstairs in your bed.

As soon as we all got there, we knew something didn't add up-right now, Wilson is getting a private lab to run Fletcher's blood, find out if he was drugged. The scotch he swears he was drinking before he fell asleep is gone-the decanter, the tumblers, the original bottle in the bar. Vanished.

So when the cops showed up, I made a gut decision to complicate the scene. I picked up the gun. Maybe it was the wrong call, but it means my client's not in a cell right now.

And all of that is none of Kendra's business, because whatever is going on here is way over the pay grade of a DC cop. She couldn't unravel this even if she believed me, and she wouldn't, because she thinks I'm as crazy as her ex-husband.

When she sighs and looks back at her computer, I reach for my pocket out of reflex. But everything-my keys, my phone, my wallet-is currently on a tray on her desk.

She notices me eyeing my phone, because I didn't hide it. She picks it up and twirls it slowly between her fingers.

”Drop it and I'll send the department a bill for a new one. Actually, I've been meaning to upgrade, so go the f.u.c.k ahead.”

”So you do speak, after all.” She leans in, flas.h.i.+ng just a bit of cleavage, which doesn't work-even if I weren't mad as h.e.l.l at how this has gone down, she's not Hailey. And Kendra's not available, either. Not really.

Her t.i.ts are nice, though, and so is the try, so I give her the slow, appraising look she wanted. Then I close my eyes and tip my head back against the chair.

”Who have you been texting, Cole? Mind if I have a look?”

”Get a warrant, Detective. It's got a pa.s.sword on it for a reason.”

Her laugh turns to a sigh as heavy footsteps sound behind me.

”Oh great, the cavalry's arrived.” She pushes back from the desk, shoving it against my arm in the process. I don't react. ”Who let this guy past the desk sergeant?”

I recognize the hard-edged laugh as belonging to one of my business partners, Tag Browning. Kendra's ex-husband. ”Time to let him go, baby. You don't have anything.”