Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58604 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
“No, he blacked the fuck out with three bullets in him!” she squawks.
“What?” I croak, shaking my head.
“He didn’t kill her. She shot him, and he blacked out.”
I swallow past the rock wedged in the back of my throat.
“She was alive when he passed out.” Her features soften. Pulling her hands from her pockets, she takes my right hand and squeezes.
“Then who killed her?”
CHAPTER 10
PUZZLE PIECES
“He doesn’t know.”
Kitty moves away, and I feel the distance more than I should. Deep sorrow wraps around me, isolating me once more.
“Why was she even there with them?” I hear the bewilderment in my own voice—too many questions. Nothing is adding up. My skin crawls. I feel like there’s a puzzle before me, but pieces are missing, and I’ll never find them to complete the image.
“Again, this is something you should maybe be asking that Tyler prick.”
A cold chill trickles down my spine. Tyler. Why wouldn’t he mention she was with him that night? “He wouldn’t have hurt her.” I went to him, and he acted normal, like himself. He loved her. There’s no way he knew she was dead. I don’t believe that. I can’t.
“Listen, it’s not me who needs convincing, it’s you. Things don’t add up, but our dad doesn’t have the answers,” Kitty says, reading my inner turmoil.
My gaze darts to the door when it clicks open. Callan walks back in, his arms full of snacks. “What did I miss?” He darts his eyes between the two of us. My stomach twists with nervous energy. My heart is beating too fast. “Here,” he says, opening a sandwich packet and handing it to me.
I don’t want to eat.
“They had these pre-packaged, but the woman behind the counter said they’re made fresh every day,” Callan says, pulling me out of my internal meltdown.
I bite my inner cheek at how adorable he is. I can imagine the flush on the woman’s cheeks as he spoke to her. It’s not every day a six-foot badass comes looking for snacks for his hopeless woman.
“Thank you.” I take it from him, pulling half of the sandwich out and biting into it.
“So domesticated.” Kitty snorts.
Flipping her the bird, Callan asks, “So, what were you talking about?”
“Rogue’s sister shot dad, and he blacked out. He doesn’t know what happened to her,” Kitty says so casually, you’d think we’re discussing the kind of chips I want with my sandwich, not attempted murder. “And he wants to see you,” she adds, dipping her head when he arches a brow in her direction.
“I’ll go there now if you stay with Rogue.”
“No.” I almost choke on the bite of the sandwich in my mouth. My gums dry the bread sticking to them, almost making a paste. “I want to come,” I manage to say.
“You need to rest. You can barely stand,” Callan says flatly.
“Oh, I saw a wheelchair.” Kitty holds up a finger and heads toward the door.
“No way,” I bark out, but she’s already gone.
Callan cracks a can of soda open and places it in my hand, nudging his head for me to drink.
I tip the can to my lips, groaning as the cold liquid fills my mouth and travels down my throat to help push the bread down. “Thank you,” I say, breathless. I hand it back to him, swiping my arm across my lips. “I needed that.”
Tension thickens the air between us, coiling like a rope around our necks. I hate it. A hollowness expands inside me, dark shadows haunting my waking hours. The mystery of Harley’s death continues to eat me from inside.
I need something tangible to cling to, to keep me from losing myself to it. I need Callan’s warmth, love, and sanity.
“Callan…” Every part of me tingles when his eyes turn to mine. He’s so beautiful, I nearly swell to bursting with love every time I look at him. “It sucks not knowing what happened to Harley, but I’m glad your dad isn’t the one who killed her.”
He drops his head, his eyes closing. I hold my breath, scared of what he may say.
I’ve been selfish, only thinking about myself and my agenda. This man’s dad nearly died, and I made it about me getting my answers regardless of the fallout. “I’m sorry. I’ve been so consumed with grief that I haven’t offered you any support. Your dad is alive. I’m thankful you get that.” I push all the warmth I can muster into my words.
His lips part, but nothing comes out. Kitty waltzes back into the room, stealing his attention. She pushes a wheelchair in the room and beams, raising her hands like a magician. “Voilà!”
I swallow past the lump growing in my throat, shaking my head. “Not a chance, Kit.”
“Don’t be a snob,” she grunts.
“Where did you get it?” Callan widens his stance, folding his bulging arms across his chest.