Total pages in book: 208
Estimated words: 207002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1035(@200wpm)___ 828(@250wpm)___ 690(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 207002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1035(@200wpm)___ 828(@250wpm)___ 690(@300wpm)
My mind spiralled. My heart suffocated.
Too many people.
Too many moving parts and secrets and fears.
“I think I know what’s going on here,” Wayne muttered, placing his hands on his lean hips, puffing up his chest beneath a short-sleeved, lime-coloured shirt. His kneecaps were knobbly beneath neatly-ironed black shorts. “You’re afraid I’m here to interrogate you, aren’t you?”
My heart did its best to keep me alive as I forced myself not to shatter beneath panic. “I, eh...” I cleared my throat.
Get a goddamn grip.
I couldn’t break in front of this man.
I couldn’t show any weakness.
Because she knows.
“I’m just...tired, that’s all. Still healing.”
“I’ll never apologise enough for hurting you so badly, mate,” Jack muttered. “You sure nothing is seriously wrong? I didn’t break anything, did I?”
“I’m fine.” I balled my hands, never taking my eyes off the cop.
“You can press charges, you know,” Wayne said with a quirked lip. “Jack, for all his good intentions, committed assault on you.”
“Wayne’s not kidding that he’s here on your behalf, Aslan. Not ours,” Jack said. “If anything, he’s come to give me the third degree.” He chuckled but his eyes were slightly wary.
I would never lay charges against Jack, even if I could.
“It’s all good,” I muttered.
“That’s a relief to know,” Wayne said with a smile. “In that case, have no fear, Aslan. After my chat with Nerida the other night, I know you could never do such a heinous thing. She’s lucky to have you in her corner.” He grinned at Jack as he placed a beer bottle into the detective’s hand. “Cheers.”
“I told Wayne that we’ve buried our differences.” Jack clinked his bottle with Wayne’s, beckoning me to join them. “I made an awful mistake hitting you, but it’s all good now. So good, in fact, you’ve forgiven me enough to become my future son-in-law.”
“Congratulations, by the way.” Wayne saluted me with his bottle. His smile warmed as it landed on Neri. “To both of you. I met my wife young too. When you know, you know.”
“Thanks.” Neri grinned. “We’re both very happy.”
Wayne studied her for longer than I was comfortable with. Finally, he nodded with another smile. “I can see that. And I’m glad.”
“Will you stay for dinner, Wayne?” Anna asked. “We’re still working through Christmas leftovers, so it will just be a simple fare of roasted chicken, some salads, and the last pieces of chocolate cake Neri and I made.”
“That wouldn’t be too much trouble?” Wayne asked, his face far too eager. “My kids and their kids left yesterday. I returned to work this morning to stay busy even though I’m meant to be off until next Monday. If I’m honest, an empty house doesn’t sound all that appealing.”
I know you worked today.
You were in the house where I dragged a man away to be murdered.
And Zara knows.
But she didn’t tell you.
My hands fisted as I looked at Neri, and all my fear and panic solidified into a glacier, seeping with icy death in my belly.
Should I tell her? Should I tell her that Zara might have been an utter bitch to her, but she’d done something that well and truly redeemed herself?
Or should I keep Zara’s secret, just like she was keeping mine?
Before I could decide, Neri grabbed my hand and tugged me toward the outdoor table where Jack, Anna, and Wayne had made themselves comfortable. “Later,” she whispered. “We’ll talk later.”
And that was how I found myself sharing a beer with the goddamn detective hunting for the guy I’d brutally beaten and most likely slaughtered. How that same cop reached across the table and patted my hand, saying, “Welcome to the Taylors, Aslan. Any member of Jack’s family is a good egg. You have nothing to worry about from me, okay?”
I wished I could believe him.
I wished I could shut up those mocking, black whispers.
I wish I could trust that everything would be exactly what the cop said...
Okay.
Chapter Seven
*
Nerida
*
(Love in Greek: Agápi)
“CAN I GO TO THE BATHROOM AGAIN?” Margot’s question ripped me from the past, making me blink with disorientation.
My headache was back, softly pounding in the base of my skull, steadily getting worse the closer I got to the awful crux of our story.
“You went like twenty minutes ago,” Dylan groaned, grabbing another cod slider from the platter of finger food that Tiffany had brought down for us. “Do you have bladder problems?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I have anxiety problems.” Margot stood, brushing away the crumbs from the wedges she’d been snacking on while I spoke. “I can’t take much more of this.” Wincing in my direction, she added, “No offense, Nerida, but...the foreshadowing is turning my stomach into knots, and all the alcohol you’re plying me with is just going right through me.”
I smiled softly. “No offense taken. I feel the same way.” I stood too, pushing aside the blush-coloured blanket Tiffany had brought me. I stretched out the many kinks in my ancient spine.