Total pages in book: 190
Estimated words: 181992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 181992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 910(@200wpm)___ 728(@250wpm)___ 607(@300wpm)
I strolled down the hallway as Dax ever so slowly stepped aside, allowing the other male to enter. Podgy with a jowly face and closed-off eyes, Lowe strode inside at a nonchalant, unhurried pace. But the tense set of his compact shoulders betrayed his nervousness.
He wasn’t alone, but the cop with him—a cute dark-skinned guy who gave Dax a curt nod—didn’t cross the threshold. To me, it seemed like a This has nothing to do with me gesture. Which meant Lowe wasn’t here “on business.”
His flat stare landed on me. Hardened. Soured. Well, it would seem that he regarded me with the same distaste as his niece and great-nephew. And I couldn’t say I cared.
He quickly blanked his expression and turned to Dax. “Nice place you got here.” An idle, empty remark.
“I have plans, so you’ll need to make this quick,” Dax told him, his voice calm but firm. “Leave out the small talk and tell me why you’re here.”
“All right.” Lowe notched up his chin. “Where were you yesterday between the hours of five and seven?”
“Here,” Dax lied, no hint of deception in his tone, expression, or posture. “Why?”
Lowe squinted. “Is there anybody who can verify that?”
“Me.” I sidled up to Dax. “I’m Addison Mercier, his wife.” Did I feel bad about lying to a cop? Not in this case, no. I would have done it for Dax either way.
“Why the interest in my whereabouts, Lowe?”
“Blaise Buchanan.” The sheriff tossed out the name, a challenge in his eyes.
Dax responded with a slight shrug. “What about him?”
“He received a solid beating yesterday.” Lowe rested his hands on his gun belt. “His mother believes you had something to do with it.”
“Did Blaise accuse him?” I asked.
“No,” the sheriff reluctantly told me before resettling his gaze on Dax. “In fact, he was adamant that you had nothing to do with it. But he refuses to name who’s responsible.”
I folded my arms. “So, basically, you came here to appease your niece as opposed to actually question a viable suspect?”
Lowe’s eyes narrowed once more. “Where such violent incidences occur, Dax is always a viable suspect. And I’d say he has motive, since there was an incident between you and Blaise yesterday.”
“I don’t know if I’d call it an ‘incident.’ He made some smart remarks to show off in front of his friends,” I said, deliberately playing it down. “You know how teenagers can get. You also know how your niece can get. And since I know there can be nothing at all to link Dax to what happened because, as I said, he was here with me, all you’re doing is allowing her to waste your time.”
A slight flush stained his cheeks, but he didn’t deny it. Couldn’t. He was here to placate his niece—we all knew it.
“Any other questions?” Dax asked, drawing the sheriff’s attention back to him. “Or are we done here?”
Lowe pressed his lips tight together. “I may have more questions at a later date. For now, we’re done. But whoever put their hands on Blaise should reconsider doing it again.” He stiffly walked out, shrugging past his fellow cop. The guy gave Dax a brief raise of his eyebrows and then trailed after Lowe.
“I figured there was a slight chance he’d question you,” I said to Dax as he closed the door. “It seemed a no-brainer that Felicity would tell him little tales. I mean, she’s … What? Why are you looking at me weird?”
“You lied to him,” Dax commented. “You didn’t twist the truth. Didn’t simply omit details. You flat-out lied.”
Offended that he seemed so damn surprised, I frowned. “Of course I did. You think I wouldn’t give you an alibi?”
His silence said it all.
Feeling my mouth tighten, I propped my hands on my hips. “Look, we might not have gotten married for conventional reasons, but you’re still my husband. You have my loyalty. All the way. I will always stand by you, no matter what. Get used to it.”
His direct stare flickered with so many emotions—all were there and gone in milliseconds, leaving me with no idea what he was thinking or feeling.
He delved a hand into my hair and fisted—not too tight, but tight enough to get my attention. “It’s dangerous to make that kind of promise to a man like me.” The words were soft. Quiet. Grave.
I swallowed, my hands slipping down to my sides. “I don’t know what that means.”
“It means I’ll hold you to it,” he warned. “Even when I’ve done something I know you won’t condone—and there’ll be plenty of things I’ll do that most people won’t condone—I’ll still hold you to it.”
“And so you should. I gave you my word.” I held up my hand and wiggled my ring finger slightly. “Haven’t I always stuck to it before?”
“Yes, you have. But lying to a cop for me is one thing. You don’t like or respect Lowe. Could you lie to your sisters, friends, parents? Lie to the people you love for me?”