Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 126580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126580 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
I’d gone to Easter Lanes. Molly Easter, who was so removed from anything and so pure, was going to vouch for me.
Molly had bit her lip in the adorable way she did, heaved a sigh, and filled my first beer.
It was a beer night for me. I was on my sixth for the night.
She just slid a seventh to me when I noted a stillness that came over Molly.
She was looking behind me.
I turned, my whole gut clenching up, because I knew whoever it was wouldn’t be good.
Ashton stood there. His gaze was fierce and filled with such loathing that I was burned from the inside out. He had two guys with him, and I was taking them in because they weren’t the normal guys that I’d grown accustomed to around Trace. These guys were military.
All three were staring me down until Ashton strode forward.
“Don’t!” Molly yelled as he began to reach for me.
He paused, but I knew my luck had timed out. I’d been betting that they wouldn’t come for me until four in the morning. Maybe five. That meant Trace had probably been the one hauled down to the police station, and Ashton was already released from questioning.
“Don’t get involved,” he growled at her, in a savage hiss. Then his hand closed down over my shoulder, and he was hauling me off the barstool. “If you get any ideas, those guys are ex-rangers. So don’t.”
I was nodding. “Spotted that already.”
He paused, narrowing his eyes at me, before he made another low growl and dragged me with him.
“Where are you taking her?” Molly shouted from behind. She looked ready to launch herself over the bar, a bat in hand. “Hey!”
Ashton shoved me forward as the other two guys took me, and he remained behind, but I heard him before the door closed. “Stay out of this.”
The streets were quiet, calm, as they put me into the back of an SUV.
It was an odd feeling. It felt like the other shoe was about to drop. I just didn’t know what shoe it was.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
JESS
They hauled me off to somewhere outside of the city.
Ashton kept glancing at me on the way. “Why are you so quiet?”
“Drunk. Also, what are you going to do?”
“They raided our warehouses tonight. Anthony sent word that after you went to restock, you took off, and it didn’t take long to find the security footage or to identify Detective Worthing.”
“Again. What are you going to do?”
“You knew an hour before the raids went off.”
“And you’re here super fast, so obviously they didn’t get a whole lot.”
He bit off a growl, reaching for me and yanking me toward him. “You knew. You could’ve warned him!”
I grabbed his hand on my shirt but yelled right back because the drunkenness was starting to fade. I was starting to get pissed. “And why would I? I’m a PO!”
“You’re with Trace.”
“Yes, I’m with Trace. I am not with what he does for a living or what his family does. I’ll never sign off on that.”
“Then you can’t be with him, because he is who his family is.”
“Please.” But I was done with him grabbing hold of my shirt. I twisted his hand, shoving him off of me, and I glared. “Don’t fucking manhandle me again, or you’ll find out my other basic training, asshole.”
The two ex-military guys were in the front seat. We were in the back, and the one in the passenger seat turned back to us. “You need help?”
I huffed. “Not a chance.”
Ashton’s response was more muted. “We’re good. We’ll wait until we get there.”
I rolled my eyes, but I wasn’t going to ask. He’d want me to do that, and he’d take pleasure in not telling me.
But, dammit. I wanted to know other things. “Is he okay?”
“Like you care.”
“I do care, but I am not a criminal. Nor will I become one.”
“You got a heads-up about the raids, and you did nothing.”
“I had to make a choice. I can love Trace and not what he does for a living.”
“Except when you could’ve stopped him from going to prison.”
I shot him a look. “Come on. You’re professionals. Your families have been doing this for decades. I’m betting that anything found in the raids isn’t going to be anything that’ll put Trace away. And again, you are here. That means if you were hauled in for questioning, you’re out. That means they aren’t looking at you. They’re going only at Trace, and I am, again, highly doubtful they’d find anything on Trace.”
“Yeah? Why’s that?”
“Because it’s Trace. He’s smart.”
“And I’m not?”
“You’re both—” Why was I doing this? “Never mind. Interrogate me whenever we get where we’re going.”
We fell into silence, driving more north until they turned into a driveway that led to a small log cabin. The place was isolated and in the middle of woods. In this context, this was creepy as fuck. In a different set of circumstances, this could’ve been a romantic getaway. Either way, when we parked and I was led inside, I had the thought, Here we go.