Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 60576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60576 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 303(@200wpm)___ 242(@250wpm)___ 202(@300wpm)
“You don’t belong because people want blood, and with your father gone, who do you think they’ll turn to? The solution is pretty fuckin’ simple. Leave.”
His words cut deep. I glare, my lips pressed tight. “No offense, but I don’t know you, and you know nothing about me. I don’t care who you are or if everyone fears you—I’m not scared. Back off.”
I take my drinks when the bartender slides them over, offering a quick thanks before I disappear into the crowd. I don’t look back, even though I can feel his eyes burning into my back. He might be powerful and scary to the people of this town, but I am the daughter of a damned serial killer. Not much scares me.
Besides, he has no business telling me what to do.
My father’s enemies have nothing to do with me.
Right?
“Are you okay?” Jace asks as I sit. “I saw Rook talking to you.”
“Rook?”
“Wolfe Cross. His club name is Rook; that’s what everyone calls him.”
Wolfe.
A fitting name for him.
“Well, Rook, Wolfe, whoever, can mind his business.”
“What did he want?”
I shake my head. “Same as everyone else—for me to leave town and never look back.”
Jace smiles carefully. “Well, for what it’s worth, I don’t want you to leave.”
“That makes one of you,” I tease, and he laughs.
He grins and winks. “One is better than none.”
Laughing, I nod. “You’re right.”
Thank goodness for Jace; without him, this town would have driven me out by now.
But my determination is stronger.
I’m not leaving.
Not yet.
I need answers first.
WALKING INTO THE POLICE station, I reach behind me and pull my hair into a tight ponytail. The long locks are getting hot, causing my neck to sweat. It’s more nerves than it is weather, but, either way, I need to keep my composure when I start my search for answers. I want to ask about my mother and her death. My dad always told me it was a car accident, and I always believed him, because why wouldn’t I?
Back then, I didn’t think he had any reason to lie to me.
Now I know that everything he told me was a damned lie.
“Can I help you?”
The older woman sitting behind the reception desk gives me a sharp once over, and her eyes narrow. Another one who knows who I am. I exhale, bracing myself for her rude comments, growing used to them by now.
“Yes, I am wanting to speak to Sergeant Davidson, if he is available?”
“What is the matter concerning?”
“My mother.”
She narrows her eyes. Everyone in town knows my mother died, and I have no doubt as her fingers rush over the keys that she’s confirming that information.
“Can you be more specific?”
Her tone is clipped, and I am tired of being treated like I’m a monster.
“I am looking to talk to someone about my dead mother because I am here to find out the truth. Now, can you help me, or do I have to accept that you’re going to treat me like I’m some kind of killer, even though I was just a damned child when my father raised hell in this town.”
Her mouth drops open, but before she can answer, a voice behind me has me spinning around.
“Mera Sloane? Is that you?”
As I turn, I'm met by a familiar face—Sergeant Davidson. He was a pillar of kindness after my mother passed and even more so when my father was taken to prison. I trust him in a way I don’t trust many. He was the only one who ensured I was safe and taken care of when everything went down, unlike others who were quick to condemn me.
Over the years, he hasn't changed much, except for his hair thinning on top and his once chubby cheeks becoming gaunt. Age is catching up with him, but he still has those warm brown eyes and that unmistakable dimple on his right cheek when he smiles. He is the kind of police officer you want on your side when things go wrong.
“I bet you never thought you’d see me again,” I say, stepping forward and letting him pull me in for a hug.
He holds me tight. A feeling I hadn’t realized I had missed so much until this very moment.
“I certainly didn’t think I would see you yelling at my receptionist, but I should have known that spirit would come out when you finally arrived home.”
I pull back, giving him a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry, but people in this town have been less than friendly with me returning home. Do you have time to talk?”
He nods. “Always.”
Shooting a quick glance at the receptionist, who simply scowls at me, I hurry down the hall after Sergeant Davidson. Arriving in his office, he waits for me to take a seat before he closes the door. Once he is across the desk in front of me, he offers me a smile. “What can I help you with?”