Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
I didn’t ask him what the punishment was. The look on his face screamed it loud and clear.
Wilder’s light eyes gazed down at me without seeing. “I don’t blame Wolf for never letting me win. But I do hate him for how much he enjoyed it when I lost.”
“Oh, baby.” I kissed him slow and deep, sending waves of comfort. “On a psychopath scale of hamsters to Everleigh, what are we dealing with?”
“Wolf is Everleigh’s soul mate.”
“Then him coming here is bad for us,” I confirmed.
“He’ll fuck with me just because he can. He’ll ruin everything I touch just for the laugh,” Wilder gritted. “It’s bad, Luna.”
“But you said you have a plan,” Rafael spoke up. “Hopefully one that doesn’t rely on hacking or computers.”
“I have a plan. Not sure if it’s a good one yet. Don’t know if it’ll work. But I do know it’ll cause Everleigh Starling the maximum amount of pain nonstop until one of us is taken out permanently. I’ll make sure that one is her.”
“Lay it on us,” Wilder said. “All my shit is in a charred pile—again. And I’ve got the cops threatening to put me on a terror watch list because of the stuff in my second room. The maximum amount of pain is too little.”
“The first step is simple...”
Chapter Three
The bell chimed, welcoming me into a pine-scented lobby. My purple wedges sank into the memory foam mat, drawing my brow up. Between the cucumber and orange slices floating in the water cooler, antiquey chairs in the waiting area, and a plate of cookies with a “Take one!” sign by the receptionist, I could honestly say this was the nicest police station in America.
“Hello.” The receptionist waved. “How can we help you, ma’am?”
“My name is Luna Sinclair.” I closed the distance and helped myself to that cookie. “I’m here to report an attempted murder. Mine.”
TAP. TAP. TAP.
I followed the rapid rise and fall of her pen while sipping on my cucumber water. If I thought the lobby was nice, it had nothing on the captain’s office. Ornate desk, upholstered seats, and photos of the captain beaming alongside every important person in Regalia.
“This is quite an allegation, Miss Sinclair.”
“It’s not an allegation. It’s what happened.”
“Are you certain you’re recalling the details correctly?” She leaned back, pressing her tight chestnut bun into her high-backed chair. The wrinkles around her gray eyes deepened. “We have a confession. Connor Langston admitted to setting the fire. Clearly, the body we recovered in the wreckage wasn’t you.”
For as long as I lived, I’d wonder how Mr. Dumont was able to get his hands on a spare corpse so quickly. Wonder was all I could do since he smoothly dodged all questions about it during the three days we were on the boat.
“But that means you weren’t there,” Captain Capaldi finished. “Why should I believe your version of events over Connor’s?”
Scoffing, I shook my head. “Aren’t there courses and seminars available on how to talk to victims? You really need a refresher.”
The lines around her mouth hardened. “Excuse me?”
“You should believe my version of events because I’m the one who was electrocuted, woke up to flames eating the room, and was treated to Everleigh Starling crowing about how she drove my sister to suicide and was now going to kill me. Langston wasn’t anywhere near the place.”
“Why would he lie and confess to such a serious crime?”
“I’m sure a peek in his bank account will answer that question. You could also drop by his house and join the party his family is throwing now that they’re moving up the Royal line.”
Saying nothing, she scribbled something short in her notebook. I noticed she didn’t ask me what the Royal line was.
“So you’re claiming Everleigh Starling set the fire to kill you?”
“She tied me to the furniture and said she was going to kill me, so... yeah, that was the goal.”
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
I gritted my teeth as her pen did another dance on the mahogany.
“Why would she do such a thing?”
“For the same reason she paid monsters to bully my sister. She thought that by tormenting his daughters, she could drive my biological father out into the open and kill him.”
“Your biological father would be...?”
“Alistair Burkhardt.”
A vein in her forehead jumped. Alistair laughed when he said she’d remember him. She was a regular uniformed officer the many times she arrested and then was forced to let the rich boy go, but he said she’d remember him fondly.
I noted her curled lip. Not so much fondly as furiously.
“Alistair Burkhardt went missing eighteen years ago. He didn’t have children.”
“He had two, and the guy you’re shaking hands with in that photo will confirm.” I gestured to a picture of her and Dario Burkhardt. “They set aside an inheritance for me and my sister.”
More tapping, then some scribbling, then tapping again. The captain stared at me like she was trying to x-ray my head and figure out my angle. “I’ll need time to verify these claims.”