Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 68831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68831 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
He stared at the pebbled drive, tuning out the Miranda warning, and prayed like hell all of this would work.
BELL
I was only a dead woman for a short time.
I hugged my knees to my chest and watched the small box television, watching as Dario was led through a crowd of reporters and into the jail. Even in handcuffs, he was powerful. Those broad shoulders straight, his head high, his stride confident. But in his face, I saw the strain. In those fierce features, the scowl across those delicious lips… his eyes looked weary. He looked away from the cameras, and I noticed the rough mess of his hair, the limp crease of his expensive collar.
“He looks bad.” The comment came from Laurent’s sister, a six-foot-tall Amazon with wild curly hair and green eyes that matched her brother’s. Septime had all but barreled into the house several hours ago, shoved me aside on the couch, and gave me a look that screamed to toughen the hell up.
We hadn’t, in the hours since, become any better friends. A headline appeared below Dario’s image, one that matched the broadcasters’ chatter.
DARIO CAPECE CHARGED IN WIFE’S MURDER
“You don’t think they’re going to bring up—” Septime’s words fell off abruptly, and I turned just in time to see a look passed between her and her brother. He shook his head minutely, and I straightened up off the couch.
“What? You don’t think they’re going to bring up … what?”
“Nothing.” Laurent’s sister leaned forward, watching the news, and didn’t look my way. I turned to Laurent, who met my gaze in the bored manner of a man with a secret. I sank back against the cushion and tried to control my anger. This wasn’t fair. They were arresting Dario who wasn’t—couldn’t be—guilty. I had been there. I had seen his reaction. And now, these two were keeping something from me. Everyone seemed to be keeping something from me.
I crossed my arms tightly over my chest and watched as Dario stopped just before the door to the police station. He turned his head, the camera zooming in as his eyes connected with the lens.
There.
I was sure he was staring at me. I had to believe that there was a promise of security in those eyes. For us. I wanted to believe in that connection. He had told me to trust him. He had told me everything would be okay.
It was a momentary moment, potentially an imagined promise, but I believed it.
“He didn’t do it. You know that.”
I ignored Septime’s comment, holding Dario’s gaze until a navy suit pushed at his shoulder, and Dario turned and passed through the door. Out of sight, but fully protected. Surely, he’d be safe in there. Surely, with all of the uniforms, the guns, the security … he wouldn’t get hurt.
“Don’t you be worried ‘bout him.” Laurent heaved to his feet and reached for the remote, turning the television off. “Our boy has a plan. He always do.”
If he’d had a plan, Gwen wouldn’t be dead, and I wouldn’t be in this dank shack in the middle of the swamp. I swallowed the thought and looked down at the hem of my new shirt, pulling at the cotton.
A timer went off in the kitchen, and Septime lifted her head, pushing to her feet and moving toward the sound. I looked at Laurent, and he tilted his head toward the porch. “Let’s go for a walk.”
I hadn’t walked through the woods in years, not since I was a little girl exploring the forest on the edge of our trailer park. I mentioned this and Laurent laughed.
“Not much else to do but explore. It’s probably why we all end up with so many kids.”
I had to blush at the thought, though he and Septime were both, as far as I could tell, single. I said that and he shrugged, pushing his hands into the pockets of his jacket.
“Yeah, well. We da picky ones.”
He nodded toward a dirt path through the trees, one large enough for a car. Everything was wet from this morning’s rain and I pulled my hair into a knotted ponytail, the summer humidity thick in the air.
“A girl died once. At Dario’s casino, over in Biloxi.” Laurent glanced sideways at me. “That’s what Septime was trying to bring up.”
My heart fell at the same time that my body did, my foot sinking into a soft spot and causing me to tilt forward, my arms windmilling through the air as I attempted to stay upright. Laurent reached out, catching me, and I fell against his chest, my hands hooking into the fabric of his jacket as I sagged in his arms. “Shit.”
“It’s okay, chere.”
He lifted me clear off the ground and stepped to the side, eyeing the soft dirt, then set me down, watching as I tested my ankle. It wasn’t injured, but my tennis shoe was covered in dark mud. When I took a forward step, things squished around my sock. I made a face. “Crap. There’s mud in my shoe.”