Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 95676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
I gasp when I realize that's what he was hiding from me this morning. He knew what was going to happen to him today, but he didn't say a word to me.
Why didn't he tell me?
Because he loves you, a little voice whispers in the back of my mind. He sacrificed his career to make sure you had a chance.
"I need something," I blurt to Detective Ventura, swiping at the tears threatening to spill over.
"Why would I do anything for you, Miss Kendall?"
I hesitate for a moment, and then take a deep breath. "Because I'll tell you everything you want to know about my relationship with Rory Clark."
"What do you want in exchange for your confession?" he asks, and I know I have him. I can see it in his eyes.
"I want you to convince the D.A. to withdraw her offer to release me to Detective Lewis," I say before I lose the nerve altogether. "I'll stay in jail until the trial if necessary, but make sure she refuses to release me to him." I swallow as pain rolls through me at the thought.
I was right. I'm in love with a cop and I don't get to keep him.
I'm sorry, Cam. I'm so sorry.
"You're saying you want to stay in jail?" Ventura asks.
"Yes."
"Why?" He looks like I just managed to shock the hell out of him.
"I used Detective Lewis," I lie, fighting to keep my voice steady. "I tricked him into sleeping with me. I knew if I could convince him that I was being set up, I would have a chance of beating this. He didn't do anything wrong. I'm the one who initiated our relationship. I seduced him, and he believed me because I made sure he would, but I realize now that I was wrong. He shouldn't lose the career he's spent his entire life working toward because of me. Keep that from happening, and I'll tell you everything you want to know."
"You're serious," he says after a brief pause.
I meet his gaze and nod, ignoring the pain threatening to tear me in two.
"Miss Kendall."
I glance up from the book in my lap and blink at Detective Ventura. He's standing at the door to my cell, his arms crossed over his chest. He looks the exact same way he did yesterday and the day before and the day before that. For some reason, he's checked in on me almost every day since he brought me here. I don't know why. Aside from him, I've refused to see anyone except for Erin, Bryan, and my lawyer. Cam tries to visit me every day, but I say no every single time they tell me that he's here.
Keeping him at a distance is killing me. The pain is unreal and it's not getting any easier. Every day, being without him hurts a little more. I cry myself to sleep every night, only to dream about him. Those dreams are my own personal purgatory. In them, we're together and everything is perfect between us. And then I wake up, cold and alone in a jail cell, and I remember that I let him go. Willingly.
That reminder breaks me every night, but I know if I see him, for even a moment, I'll cave. I'll tell him that I made up the entire story I told Ventura and let him rescue me. I can't do that. Not when his entire future rides on me keeping my mouth shut and sticking to the story I told. The one that gives him a shot but seals my fate.
I confessed to a crime I didn't commit.
I've resigned myself to being stuck in this cell until I go to trial. Even though I told Ventura everything he wanted to hear, I couldn't bring myself to plead guilty. I couldn't take that final step. I don't think the D.A. is happy with me because of it, but honestly? Being here isn't as bad as I expected. Everyone thinks I'm the closest thing to a murderer there is, so they leave me alone. That works out well for me. I rarely have to interact with anyone except the guards, who don't give me any trouble. I think they feel sorry for me, though I don't know why.
"Miss Kendall, did you hear me?" Detective Ventura asks. He seems worried. It's there in his eyes. They're as hard as ever, but I'm learning to read him. He wears that hardness like a mask, but underneath, I think maybe he's a decent guy.
"What?" I ask, shaking my head to clear it.
"You're being released," he says.
I just stare at him, not sure I heard him correctly.
He pushes away from the wall and crosses to me. "You're going home, Ivy."
"Home?"
He nods.
I'm going home. To my own bed. To my old lady neighbors and my morning run. To my tiny apartment and my real life and private showers and real panties. A bright burst of relief explodes inside, engulfing me. And then panic slams into me, making me gasp for breath.