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)
“None of your fucking business. If I had an orgy in the fucking tundra and got a cold, it’s none of your damn business.” I emphasize each word and quickly regret being such a bitch.
“I’m sorry, Officers—”
“Detectives,” Barlowe corrects and any semblance of niceties leaves me.
“I knew my mother was overprotective but damn, this seems a little much.”
“Declan Cross is a suspect in a number of crimes and you have been spotted with him numerous times in the last month,” Hart says.
He pauses and silence sits between us. Both of them stare at me and I’m forced to answer, “Is there a question there?”
“Do you have anything you’d like to tell us?” Barlowe asks.
“Your code name, perhaps?” Hart questions.
“Code name?” My voice practically squeaks. “If you mean my pet name, he calls me his little fuck toy and I rather like it.” The defensiveness raises my voice far too loud. If any hospital staff is outside the door, they undoubtedly hear me. “Please leave me the fuck alone. I don’t have anything to say.”
“If you have any knowledge of criminal activity pertaining to Declan Cross and you intentionally keep it from us, we’ll make sure that you’re convicted alongside him,” Barlowe says, attempting to intimidate me, but it’s useless. They will never get a word out of me.
The battering ram of my heart crashing against my chest is matched by the ridiculous beep, beep, beep and I’ve finally had enough, ripping the sticky electrodes the fuck off.
“I don’t consent to a search. I don’t consent to shit. And I’m not saying anything else other than, have a pleasant fucking day unless you’d like to detain me.”
A beat passes and then another. All the while, I stare at the wall rather than them. There’s no more beep, no sound at all other than the blood rushing in my ears.
It’s then that Declan comes in and I’ve never felt such relief.
“If that’s all, ma’am,” Barlowe says and they leave; Hart doesn’t say a word.
With a plastic bag in one hand, Declan watches them as they each pass, one on each side of him.
I’m so damn grateful I tore the monitors off, because if it was on right now, the beeps would give away how fast my heart is racing.
Declan continues toward me, a scowl on his face as he watches the men leave.
I swallow thickly and the moment the door closes I shove the phone into Declan’s chest.
“I recorded everything,” I tell him, my words rushed.
With his left hand, he holds his phone to his chest. With his right, he offers me the bag. “I got you soup.”
I’m hesitant to take it. He heard me, didn’t he? I have it all fucking recorded. They can’t say I said anything. I have it. I have it all on the phone he gave me. I stare at it, willing him to just look.
“They upset you?”
“They asked me questions and I didn’t tell them anything.”
“Calm down, my little pet.”
“I swear, they said my mom called them and that I was missing—”
“Hey, hey,” he says and runs a soothing hand down my hair, hushing me as I heave in a breath. “It’s okay, they’re gone.”
“I didn’t tell them anything,” I stress to him and the back of my eyes prick as I do. Tears threaten to spill out, it’s all so overwhelming. “Just listen.”
“I believe you,” he tells me, staring at me, seeming to see through me.
He kisses me, tenderly and then deeper. My lips mold to his and I want more. I need more, but he pulls away.
“I swear, whatever they tell you, I have it recorded.” I try to explain to him.
“I got your red flag text and came as soon as I could.”
“I didn’t know what to text you and I—”
“You did just fine, my little pet. Perfect even,” he tells me and I believe him, yet at the same time, I don’t. It can’t be that simple. He hasn’t even listened yet.
“I’m sorry, I should have had men outside of the room.”
“Watch it. I didn’t say anything,” I try to reassure him.
“I don’t have to watch it—”
“I want you to.” My voice is louder than I meant it to be. He needs to listen. He needs to know I didn’t say a damn thing. “I want you to know—”
“Okay, it’s okay,” he says in such a calming tone, like he’s trying to calm me down more than anything. He concedes, “I’ll watch it.”
“I don’t know that you can see anything, but you can hear it and you saw them.” I explain, feeling light-headed and unsure. I did record it. Didn’t I? I have to look down at my phone, which is still recording. I press end and watch the wheel spin until it’s done. It’s there. It’s right there. “I can prove I didn’t say anything,” I say and hold it up for him, my heart still racing.