“You’re asking me to perform a miracle,” Grier snaps back.
“No,” I interrupt. “We’re asking you to find out the truth. Because while I don’t mind taking a free shot to my jaw, I do care about going to prison for something I didn’t do. I’m an asshole, for sure. But I don’t hit women, and I sure as shit would never kill one.”
Dad steps close and lays a hand on my shoulder. “You win this case, Grier. I don’t care what else you have on your desk. Nothing else matters until Reed’s free of this.”
The or else is implied.
Grier’s mouth thins, but he doesn’t object. Instead, he rises, tucks all his papers away, and says, “I’ll get to work.”
“What should we be doing while the investigation continues?” Dad asks, seeing Grier to the door.
I’m stuck in the chair, wondering how in the hell my life has come to this. I look down at my hands. Did I kill her? Did I dream leaving the penthouse? Am I suffering some weird memory lapse?
“Put on a happy face, act normally, and pretend you’re not guilty.”
“I’m not guilty,” I growl.
Grier pauses in the hall. “The DA needs means, motive, and opportunity to prove the crime. Brooke struck her head on the fireplace with enough force to cause her brain to shear from the spinal cord. You’re big and strong and like to punch people around. They have you on tape within the golden period. And they have motive. Oh, and Ella Harper?”
I tense up. “What about her?”
“Stay away from her,” Grier says flatly. “She’s your biggest weakness.”
8
Ella
Reed is waiting for me on the front steps when I get to school. This time Easton is the one who’s missing, but I’m kind of grateful to be alone with Reed, especially after last night. His meeting with Callum and Grier left him sullen and close-mouthed, and it was the first night in a long time that he didn’t sleep in my bedroom. I didn’t beg him to stay, but I did push him to talk.
From the little he told me, I guess the lawyer is worried about Reed’s fighting and the fact that he was unaccounted for during the hour he left the penthouse to the time he got back to the Royal mansion.
That part, I don’t really get. So what if he didn’t go home right away? It doesn’t mean he was doing anything suspicious, especially since the cops know he left the penthouse twenty minutes after he got there.
Still, if it bugs Grier and Callum this much, then it must be important. So it’s the first thing I bring up once I kiss Reed hello.
“I still don’t get why that hour you were driving around means anything.”
His eyes darken, which, combined with his untucked dress shirt and unbuttoned blue blazer, gives him a bad-boy vibe. I was never drawn to the bad-boy type before I met Reed, but in him I find it kind of irresistible.
“It doesn’t mean anything,” he mutters.
“Then why is the lawyer so worried about it?”
Reed shrugs. “I don’t know. But I don’t want you to worry about it, okay?”
“I can’t not worry.” I hesitate, not wanting to bring up this idea again because I know it makes him mad, but I can’t help myself. “We still have time to run,” I plead, then look around to make sure nobody is lurking near us. I lower my voice to a whisper. “I don’t want to sit here and wait for you to be locked up.”
His eyes lose that hard glint. “Baby. It’s not going to happen.”
“How do you know that?” A helpless feeling washes over me. “I’ve already lost the only other person who meant something to me. I don’t want to lose you, too.”
Sighing, Reed pulls me into his arms and kisses my forehead. “You’re not going to lose me.”
His mouth travels lower and finds mine, and he slips his tongue between my lips, taking my breath away, making my knees a little weak. I grab onto his biceps so I don’t fall over.
“You’re the strongest person I know,” he whispers against my lips. “So be strong for me, okay? We’re not running. We’re going to stay and fight.”
Before I can respond, a car engine snags my attention. I turn around in time to see a police cruiser pulling into the huge drive in front of the main building.
Both Reed and I stiffen.
“Are they here for you?” I ask anxiously.
His dark expression is back, blue eyes fixed on the cruiser. “I don’t know.” His face only gets cloudier when a stocky man with a bald head gets out of the driver’s side. “Shit.”
“You know him?” I hiss.
Reed nods. “Detective Cousins. He’s one of the cops who interviewed me.”
Oh God. This can’t be good.
Sure enough, Cousins marches over the second he spots us on the steps. “Mr. Royal,” he says coolly.
“Detective,” Reed answers, equally cool.
There’s a tense moment of silence before the detective turns his sharp gaze on me.
“Ella O’Halloran, I presume?”
“Harper,” I bite out.