Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75095 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
“You know something I don’t, old man?” I asked, knowing the answer before I’d even said it. Of course he knew more than I did. The man knew fucking everything. I watched his face carefully, but he didn’t give anything away.
“All in good time,” he said after a moment.
“Bullshit,” I muttered, turning to look at Heather again.
Her shoulders were tight, and her hands were curled into fists in her lap as Casper leaned forward to say something I couldn’t hear. Poet’s hand came down on my shoulder just as I was about to rise.
“They ain’t gonna hurt her,” he reminded me. “You set it up, now let it play out.”
I nodded, but kept my eyes on Heather. She shook her head once then huffed in frustration.
“The door was open,” a voice called from the doorway, catching my attention.
“Come on in,” I said, not bothering to stand up.
Lincoln walked across the room and smiled as his eyes met Amy’s. “You must be Nix’s mom,” he said kindly. “He looks like you.”
Poet snorted.
“No, he doesn’t,” Amy replied, reaching across the bar to shake Lincoln’s hand. “But thank you anyway.”
“Bone structure, mannerisms… your coloring’s different but the way you carry yourself is pretty similar,” he said as he held her hand.
“You seem to know my son pretty well,” she murmured, glancing at Poet.
“You could say that,” Lincoln replied. He turned to me. “Detectives want to question your wife?”
“Called her a couple days before the wedding and left a message. She hasn’t called ’em back.”
“Well, she should do that tomorrow morning,” he said, sitting down on the barstool next to me. “The longer she puts it off, the worse it’ll look, and you don’t want them to change the invitation to an order.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” I muttered.
“What are they doing?” he asked, watching as Heather threw her arms up in the air just as my dad leaned down and pointed in her face.
“The crucible,” Poet said with a snicker.
“She was freakin’ out about answering questions, so they’re gettin’ her ready,” I replied.
“It’s a good idea,” he said and then looked at me. “But she doesn’t need it.”
“What?”
“I’ll be going with her to answer their questions,” he said simply. “As her attorney I’ll be able to field most of their questions myself, and I don’t need to practice.”
Amy laughed evilly behind us. “I’m baking Nix a cake for this one.”
“Do you want to go save her, or should I?” Lincoln asked in amusement as my dad and uncle played some fucked up version of good-cop-bad-cop and Heather flipped them off behind her back.
“I better,” I replied, sliding off my stool. “If she sees you, she’ll either start drooling or fuckin’ pass out.”
Lincoln laughed as I crossed the room.
* * *
Early the next morning I was up and dressed before Heather had even stirred. After taking time off the week before I needed to get into the garage and finish the cars I’d been working on. Customers didn’t give a fuck if their mechanic got married; they just wanted their ride back when we said it’d be ready.
“I’m leavin’,” I whispered, leaning down to kiss Heather’s shoulder.
“It’s too early,” she groaned, reaching up to grab me like she was going to pull me back into bed. The offer was tempting as fuck.
“Lincoln’s gonna meet you at the clubhouse at eleven,” I reminded her, laughing as her arms fell back onto the bed dramatically. “You don’t have to get outta bed for a few more hours.”
“Thank God,” she mumbled, rolling over and pulling the blankets over her head.
I smiled and grabbed my keys off the nightstand and headed out.
Her nerves seemed to have gotten better since the day before, but mine hadn’t. I knew the detectives would question her differently than they had me. She wasn’t suspected of anything, but I still hated the idea of it. They’d try to catch her in a lie. It was the nature of the beast, and she didn’t deserve the way they’d go about it. I trusted Lincoln to take care of shit since he seemed to know what he was doing, but that didn’t mean I wanted my wife getting questioned down at the police station.
“The hero returns,” someone called out across the garage as I walked in twenty minutes later. Then everyone was clapping and cheering as I tried to keep a straight face. Fucking idiots.
My dad poked his head out the door leading into the clubhouse and lifted his chin in my direction. “Need a minute,” he called out, disappearing again.
Shit. I took one more look at the car I wasn’t even half done with and cursed. I was never going to get that fucker finished.
“What’s up?” I asked as I stepped inside the clubhouse.
“Took a vote this mornin’,” my dad said easily. “Patchin’ you in tonight.”