Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
My peek through the peephole doesn’t reveal a murderer or Sawyer, whom my shower musings have me almost convinced he isn’t a killer. Colton Matthews is standing on my front porch, his jaw tight as if he’s annoyed but understanding of the time it takes me to open the door.
I unlock the front door, pulling it open with one hand while I reholster my firearm. He doesn’t look surprised or question why I have my gun out in the first place. Maybe he expected it. Maybe he does the same thing considering what his wife Sophia went through at their own home when they were dating years ago. This man is well aware how quickly a home invasion can happen.
“I need to ask you some questions,” Colton says after stepping inside and closing the door behind him.
“Do I need an attorney,” I joke, my hackles going up when he doesn’t laugh.
The man looks like he’s been through the wringer. He’s got dark circles under his eyes, and I don’t know if I just didn’t notice them when I handed over my case files or if he’s had a horrible couple of hours since I left the office.
“They’re going to be… intimate questions, Lennox.”
I hold my hand out to indicate the second sofa in the room, absently hoping a plume of dust doesn’t choke him out when he sits. Although the house isn’t exactly dirty, I’m not the best housekeeper because I didn’t have a ton of free time until just a few short hours ago.
I take a seat across from him, the sofa forming to my body because I’ve sat in this very same spot for the better part of a decade.
“I’m not going to presume to know what has happened between you and Sawyer Maddox.”
The fact that he doesn’t call him by either his first name alone nor his club nickname is telling, and my mind immediately begins to race with all the conclusions I’ve drawn as I start to second guess every one of them.
“Have you had sex with him?”
“Colton,” I grumble, my fingers automatically pinching the bridge of my nose.
“I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important.”
“I think you know the answer to that,” I mutter.
“And you know I don’t make assumptions.”
“I’ve had sex with Sawyer Maddox.”
He nods, his eyes darting away before he speaks again.
“We found the ball to a piece of jewelry at Rochelle’s house when we went back for a second sweep,” he says, and I know immediately what he’s referring to.
My blood runs cold, my eyes blinking rapidly as if it would somehow reset my hearing. What he’s saying couldn’t be true.
My eyes sting with anger, hatred, betrayal, and a slew of other emotions as they hit me in rapid-fire succession.
I’ve gone back and forth on Sawyer Maddox and whether or not I think he’s innocent or guilty so many times, my fucking head is spinning from it. So many times that I can’t separate which gut feeling on him was first any longer.
“He’s pierced,” I confirm. “His nipples and his genitalia.”
He nods. “Do you recall if he was missing any jewelry?”
I take a deep breath, really needing to close my eyes to picture it but my stomach starts to turn.
I shake my head. “He had five the first night. I… last night… I wasn’t paying close enough attention to know for sure.”
“According to the personal affects inventory, he had five when you had him booked in,” Colton explains, and I have to wonder if I’m so close to this it’s now personal and that’s why he’d share that information with me.
I feel beyond disgusted, wondering if he hurt Rochelle only for me to follow him into that hotel room. He didn’t bathe or wash up before I—
I cup my hand over my mouth and run from the room, barely making it to the bathroom before my peanut butter and jelly sandwich makes a reappearance.
Colton is still in my living room when I return after rinsing my mouth.
“We had sex almost immediately after getting to the hotel room,” I say, my voice weak.
Colton nods, as if he made this assumption already.
“You want me to go to the hospital, don’t you?”
He looks just as heartbroken as I feel when he nods again.
My stomach rolls again, knowing what he’s asking.
“I’ve showered,” I tell him, but he doesn’t look disappointed with the news.
If he sexually assaulted Rochelle, there could still be evidence inside of me.
My chin trembles, the urge to head right back into the bathroom stronger than it was the first time around.
The chief said the Cerberus MC has their DNA and blood profiles on file, and I drew the conclusion it was for their work, maybe in case they were hurt and needed a transfusion or were being held captive for ransom or something. I know they have plans to compare the DNA found on the scene to those, but my boss mentioned them doing it for exclusionary purposes. It seems that’s changed.