Total pages in book: 170
Estimated words: 160166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 801(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 534(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 801(@200wpm)___ 641(@250wpm)___ 534(@300wpm)
“They aired that she’s believed to be dead although her body hasn’t been found.”
“On what basis?” Carter questions.
“They announced they had clear persons of interest who were potential suspects, but we haven’t received or heard anything from the DA.”
“How soon can we expect to be questioned?” Nate asks. I’ve known him for years and I know his tells. He’s anxious and for good reason. He’s the one who disposed of her. If he fucked up anything, they’ll be able to pin on it him first.
“It depends on how the deposition in the—”
“Who’s being deposed?” Carter asks for clarification.
“Nate first.” At the confident declaration, a quiet Nate meets my lawyer’s gaze and nods in understanding. “Then we can expect them to make the rounds until they’ve gone through every employee.”
“Working from the bottom to the top,” Carter comments dryly and then leans back in his seat. I’m at the head of the desk with Carter beside me. Nate is seated across to our right and Michael is to our left. While we’re all in suits, Nate wears a thin tie, our lawyer a bow tie and Carter and I have none. My sleeves are rolled up to my forearms and without my jacket and not having shaved since yesterday, I’m certainly the least professional-looking one in the room.
“Anything in particular I can expect in questioning?” Nate asks.
“If it’s just being hauled in for questioning, demand a lawyer and don’t say shit,” I tell him.
“I meant deposition,” Nate clarifies. It’ll be his first if they go through with it.
The cops arrested one of the men who work here, Bardot, and the DA brought charges of drug trafficking. Now they’re using that to force every single person who’s worked for us to testify under oath in a deposition.
It’s not the first time we’ve been through this shit. Won’t be the last.
But given the murmurs and questioning around first Scarlet, then Ronnie, then Hale … loyalty is questionable.
“I’ll be there and object to anything and everything. Don’t answer without a nod from me. I don’t care what they ask; until I nod, you stay silent.” Our lawyer is a shark and we still have a firm grip on enough of the DA’s office that it’s not too concerning.
So all of this is simply eating up the time between now and the moment I check to see if Braelynn is waiting for me.
“We should talk about the girl,” McHale brings up and my gaze is quick to move from the hardwood desk to his pale blues behind wire-rimmed glasses.
“Is she all right?” he asks. I know the hidden question behind those four words. Is she dead?
“She’s fine,” I answer over Carter who opened his mouth to speak. Pushing my sleeves up further, I ignore the prick at the back of my neck and all the nerves on high alert at the mere thought of her being pulled into this. Now is not the time to let her run. I was the one who pulled the trigger to get it over with. I only pray I haven’t fucked up everything even more than I already have.
“Does her family know that?” he asks. “Her mother has been calling around and even showed up at The Club looking for her.”
“When was that?”
“A few days ago.”
“She’s been texting her mom. She’s fine, was just sick for a moment.”
My lawyer’s stare is that of a man who’s used to reading between the lines.
Scowling, I tell him, “She was actually sick. A cold or something. She’s better now but resting up. I’m doing what I can to spoil her given how she’s had a difficult couple of weeks.”
“So she’s good?” he asks, his brow raised.
“She’s good,” Carter declares.
“Would she be good if she was brought in for questioning?” McHale questions and anger heats every inch of me. She needs to stay out of this.
“Scarlet was her friend, right? She was seen with her the week she died?”
“You would be there if she was questioned or deposed, so she would be fine,” Carter says to me and it’s silent a moment. Michael’s reading between the lines of what Carter is suggesting.
My head spins with the possibility of her in questioning. It’s too fucking risky. All of it is.
“What about E?” McHale continues. He’s referring to a business associate of ours. His real name is Ian, but for some fucking reason he goes by E.
When Bardot got arrested and didn’t show up for work … it caused a bit of a stir. E doesn’t have time or patience. He doesn’t work for us but it’s to our benefit to keep business flowing with E in upstate New York.
“We’ll get him what he needs. He knows this kind of thing is just part of the game.”
“He’s anxious and for good reason, but I’ll reach out and smooth things over. Reassure him that everything is fine,” Carter answers, shifting slightly in his seat and I’m almost certain it’s the only move he’s made for the last twenty minutes.