Total pages in book: 767
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
“Right,” I replied, remembering what Donovan had said earlier. I dug my keys from my purse, turned to my car. I wasn’t sure if my hand was shaking because of his dominance or the reminder I was still a suspect. Reality was sinking in. My friend had been murdered. I was under investigation. If my pussy wasn’t a little sore, I’d have wondered if last night had actually happened.
“What are you going to do now?”
That was the question of the day. I glanced over my shoulder at him. I couldn’t believe a guy so hot was into me. I glanced at his hands, remembered what he could do with them. How gentle he could be. How skilled those fingers were. And I knew what was beneath that jeans and shirt. Knew every sinewy plane, every inch of his huge dick. Still, us being together was a dirty little secret. One that could blow the case, his career. Donovan’s too.
Was I as Mr. Mills had said? Trash? Was I ruining two men’s lives for a wild time? The night before, they’d said forever. But that was when I was naked. When faced with losing everything, was I worth it? I couldn’t rely on them. I trusted them, believed what they said, but couldn’t hold them to it. I needed to be able to stand on my own two feet, to support myself and my mom. I needed a paycheck.
“Eddie Nickel ended the big contract and the baby shower that was the only remaining client wants nothing to do with me.” I kicked a pebble on the pavement. “I’m headed to the diner to beg for my old job back.”
8
DONOVAN
“You wanted to see me?”
My father looked up from his desk, smiled. “Donnie. Come and sit.”
He extended his hand to indicate the chairs that faced him. He didn’t stand, didn’t give me a hug. We didn’t have that kind of relationship. Oh, I’d gotten manly slaps on the back and got the usual Donnie, which made me inwardly cringe. He’d said he was proud of me often enough. But not to me, Donovan Nash, but the prosecutor for Cutthroat County. I’d ensured some bad people were off the streets and he’d been pleased with my stats. I kept Cutthroat safe and that helped keep him mayor.
And who could be more satisfied with that than Anthony Nash, mayor?
Yeah, the fucking mayor.
He was sixty-two and had no plans to retire, unless he got voted out of office.
“What’s the latest on the Erin Mills’ murder?” he asked as I dropped into a chair.
I knew this was why he’d asked for me to take the elevator to the third floor of the city building that housed his office as well as the DA. Small time drug dealers and wife beaters didn’t affect his chances for reelection like a murder of the town’s “It Girl” and daughter of his biggest campaign contributor.
He didn’t give a shit that my summer softball league won the championship or that I’d bought a new car. He would care about Kit, but for all the wrong reasons.
“You’d have to ask the detectives about that. It hasn’t hit our office yet.”
He pursed his lips. People said we looked alike. His fair hair was mostly gray now, but he hadn’t lost any of it, which boded well for me. He kept active, in the summer playing golf and the winter skiing on the slopes of Cutthroat Mountain, and it showed. He hadn’t married again after Mom died, but I knew he’d been casually seeing Angela Martin on the side. Had been for years. Another thing we didn’t talk about.
“You’ll be trying the case,” he commented, resting his elbows on the arms of his high-back chair and steepling his fingers together. “I’m surprised Nix didn’t give you the latest over a beer or something.”
I didn’t answer. Instead of sharing a beer the night before, we’d shared Kit. Fucking her was much more fun than talking about the case.
He sighed, leaned forward and rested his forearms on his desk. “I’ve heard they’re looking into the Mills family, men Erin may have dated, Erin’s roommate, the house cleaners and even neighbors.”
I nodded. “Autopsy is this morning. It all sounds like standard procedure,” I replied, picking up a glass paperweight and tossing it from hand to hand.
“This shouldn’t be standard procedure,” he countered. “We need this killer found. And fast.”
I stopped the juggling and looked at him. “Why? Because the election’s in a few months?”
His jaw clenched. “It’s not only my career on the line.”
I frowned. “What are you talking about?”
He shrugged. “The District Attorney’s going to want the killer behind bars just as much as I do. That falls to your shoulders.”
“Meaning don’t fuck this up.” While the DA was in charge of the office and dealt with politics, like meetings with my father, I dealt with the actual cases, did the time in the courtroom. If things went south, it was on me.