Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 123212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123212 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 616(@200wpm)___ 493(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
I go to reply but Eli steps aside, blocking his view and making me wonder how this turned into some twisted pissing contest. “She’s fine.”
Langton’s hand flinches at his hip and I let out a frustrated groan before flying to my feet and throwing myself in front of Eli. My arms stretch out wide, blocking as much of his large body as I possibly can. "Okay," I say, hating the fact that this isn't the first time I've had to do this. It's not even the second or third time that I've had to put myself between one of my boys and a cop. “There’s clearly been a misunderstanding. Eli is a friend and is more than welcome to barge in here with his pants down whenever the hell he sees fit.” I spin around and glare at my friend. “As for you, you need to shut the fuck up and sit your ass down. He’s here taking my statement because Charles Carrington was killed this morning … or last night. I don’t know.”
Eli’s brows shoot up into his hairline. “The fuck? Daddy Warbucks is dead?” I nod and he laughs. “No shit. Who would have known? I’m not surprised though. That fucker was a hard ass. He had it coming.”
Langston takes a step toward us, his eyes narrowed suspiciously on Eli. “Where were you during the early hours of this morning?”
For fuck’s sake.
I groan and turn to face Langston again. “He was home in Breakers Flats.”
Langston doesn’t move his glare from Eli and it’s as though I’m invisible—not that I’m surprised. Before Eli showed up, Langston was respectful and questioned me as if I was hurting over Charles’ death. Now that he’s seen my connection to Eli that respect has flown straight out the window and it doesn’t sit well with me.
“Actually,” Eli says with a tone in his voice that has me cringing. “I was sinking deep into Harlow Burberry’s pussy all night long. She can verify my story.”
I look back up at Eli. “Who the fuck is Harlow Burberry?”
He shrugs his shoulder. “I don’t know. I met her at Pony Girl’s last night. She was a fucking rocket, babe. You should have seen the way she moved.”
“Okay,” Officer Langston says, less than impressed. “I think I’ve heard enough.”
With that, he excuses himself and walks out the door, heading back to the main house while most likely disregarding my whole statement. The words of a poor girl from Breakers Flats won’t be as valuable as someone born and bred in Bellevue Springs.
I put it to the back of my mind. It’s nothing worth crying over, it’s just the way things have always been for us and we’re more than used to it. So, I focus on a much bigger issue. “You hooked up with a stripper last night?” I demand, smacking a hand over Eli’s chest. “No wonder you got syphilis, you dirty man-whore. You’re disgusting.”
“Chill out,” he says, catching my hand before I get a chance to smack him again. “I didn’t fuck anyone last night. I wasn’t even in Breakers Flats last night, I was here, but it’s not like I was about to let that fucker know.”
“Sorry,” I grumble, shaking my head. “I knew that. It’s just been a weird day … and night.”
“Yeah, I bet,” he says, his voice taking on a more serious tone. Something I’m not exactly used to when it comes to Eli. “So, the old man is really dead?”
“Yeah,” I say, glancing away, not wanting him to see the emotion building within my eyes. “He was stabbed right through the chest with a silver dagger.”
“A silver dagger?” Eli demands, taking my chin and forcing my eyes back to his. “Your father was killed just like that.”
“I know.” I tear my chin free and drop down onto the couch. “Trust me, I fucking know. It’s all I’ve been able to think about all morning, but that’s not the worst part.”
His brows furrow, focusing heavily as he sits down beside me. “How could it get worse? You were fucking raped last night, the dickhead is on the fucking run, and now Carrington is dead.”
“The dagger,” I told him. “I swear, it was the exact same one that killed my dad. It has the same design on the hilt.”
“Nah.” Eli shakes his head and drops his arm over my shoulder, pulling me into his side. “That’s not possible, babe. Maybe you saw it wrong. You’ve had a lot on your mind, and I don’t blame you after the night you had. That fucker drugged you. You’re thinking too much into this.”
“It was the same fucking dagger, Eli,” I snap, not appreciating being questioned. “I fucking know it. I was the one who walked into that room and saw it sticking out of my father’s chest. The image is burned into my mind. It. Was. The. Same. Fucking. Dagger.”