Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
The moment I kiss him and tell him I love him again, he fucks me ruthlessly. It’s a punishing fuck and I bury my screams in the crook of his neck, the smothering heat and overwhelming pleasure rocking through my body.
Cody
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know,” I say and my answer is riddled with the irritated energy I’ve had all night with him.
“You mean to tell me—”
“That I arrived. I heard her. I had to defend myself and by the time you got there, my partner was unconscious and she was gone. Yes,” I snidely hiss the last word, my hackles raising as my palms dig into the steel table I lean across. “Yes, Detective Skov, that’s what I’m telling you and I fucking hate you for it.” I let it all out, the pain and frustration and disgust at how she slipped through my fingers and … how my brother stole her from me. “I loathe your sorry ass, and I hope you go to bed every goddamn night knowing she’s still missing because of you.”
His dark eyes narrow into thin slits as he bites back for me to watch it.
“Fuck you,” I bellow from deep in my chest. The only thing that keeps me from striking out at him, is the very firm fact that every bit of what I’ve told to him, I’ve condemned myself for as well. “I fucking hate you and the fact that you let her get away.”
“Let her? Did she just up and walk away then?”
“Fuck you,” I manage to repeat as I fall back into the metal chair.
“Did she run away from you?” Anger blisters from every part of me as my fist clenches in response. The door to the room that’s become my second fucking home slams open.
“Enough,” Skov’s partner, Gallinger, barks. His slim frame appears even lankier with a cleanly shaven jaw. He slaps a folder down, this one thin and pulls back the other chair to take a seat facing me across the table. Skov is silent, but his shoulders tense. Whatever Gallinger has, it pisses Skov off which should give me comfort, but not a damn thing can soothe the pain that’s run through me since I searched that cell and saw she was gone.
She left with him. I went through hell to get to her, and I didn’t even get to see her to know she’s safe.
“What do you know of Delilah’s father?”
My gaze rises slowly to his. “Never met him.”
“What about the cases he worked on,” he says, then shifts his weight from left to right. It’s a nervous energy I haven’t seen from Gallinger yet.
“What about his cases?” I question and then shake my head. “He hadn’t been on a case in … decades.”
Silence sits between us.
“He was murdered,” the detective starts and I keep my expression as neutral as possible. I can’t give a damn thing away. Aiding and abetting is not on the list of crimes I intend to go down for.
“The evidence points to a partner.”
“A partner?”
The folder opens slowly, at the same time that Skov uncrosses his arms. Pictures appear of a young woman in black and white, and then another.
“A partner who had a fetish for young women and then went younger.”
“Brass and Jones?” I’m flabbergasted.
“It explains a number of things but more than that, there was evidence found in Brass’s home. Trinkets and keepsakes of the women. Things related to other cases.”
“What does that have to do with Delilah’s father?”
“He kept photographs. We suspected him …” Gallinger trails off as he shares a glance with Skov. “But not to this extent, and there was no evidence of a partner.”
“You’re shitting me,” I say, feeling my shoulders stiffen. “There’s no way her father—”
“He was nearly disbarred several times over the years for a series of claims. The women dropped the charges, but a pattern is a pattern and the timeline makes sense.
“We’ll ask again, what do you know of Delilah’s father?
“Not a damn thing,” I reply without hesitation. I’m struck by disbelief, so much so, it takes me longer than it should to add, “I don’t have anything to say. So either let me go, or I want my lawyer.”
The air turns colder as the two men sit back in their seats.
“If you’ve got your suspects—” I start to say but Skov interrupts.
“They’re both dead and your girlfriend is still missing. It’s convenient, don’t you think?”
Leaning forward, I keep the threat in my voice thinly veiled as the command is murmured darkly, “Keep her out of this.” My heart hammers and I can’t breathe until the chill settles between us.
“You’re free to go, Special Agent Walsh … from this interrogation, although I’ve heard your superiors are wanting explanations. Apparently there are some things that don’t add up in your story.”
“What about Delilah?” My throat is tight. I’ll be damned if I let them stop looking for her. Marcus is a selfish prick and I don’t trust him to give her back. I don’t trust him at all anymore. I don’t trust anyone.