Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 319(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
From the corner of my eye, I see Anya stiffen, but I keep my gaze squarely on the detective while maintaining my practiced poker face. “Unfortunate. But not unusual. There’s one every day in New York City.”
“True.” He drums his fingers on my desk. “What makes this one special is that you had the perfect motive.”
I raise a brow. “Are you accusing me of something?”
He flashes me a row of straight white teeth. “Aren’t you going to ask who the unlucky victim was?”
“No,” I drawl. “You’re here to tell me. Or did you just miss me?”
A chuckle rumbles in his chest. “Justice Kearney was found dead in his house last night. Someone burned it to the ground. The autopsy shows he died of multiple stab wounds before the fire.”
Behind Jordan, Anya’s face pales, but I resist the urge to look at her or to comfort her. Instead, I don’t break eye contact with the detective.
Giorgio whistles. “That’s shit luck.”
Our stare-off continues as Jordan says, “He was the father of your fiancée’s child, wasn’t he?”
“So?” I say.
“A bunch of witnesses saw and heard you threaten him in a restaurant not so long ago.”
“For not owning up to his actions as far as Anya is concerned. That’s hardly a motive for murder, Detective.”
He swivels his chair to face Anya. “Mr. De Luca insisted that Justice Kearney renounce his paternal rights, did he not?”
“To protect me,” Anya says without missing a beat. “I was worried that Justice Kearney would make claims on my child later.”
“As would’ve been his right,” the detective says, posing the statement like a question.
“He made it clear he didn’t want to be implicated in the costs or the responsibility of raising my child,” she says. “I accepted his decision, but I didn’t want him to turn around and disrupt my child’s life after.”
Jordan nods with a thoughtful expression, but he’s a bad actor. Anyone can see through his false sincerity. “Two people connected to you are dead since you started a relationship with Mr. De Luca.”
I clench my hand in a fist under the desk, wishing I could rip out his tongue for submitting Anya to this stress, which isn’t good for her or the baby, but she doesn’t waver in her answer.
“That’s purely coincidence.” She lifts her chin and meets his gaze head-on as she gives him the truth. “The murders have nothing to do with me.”
Because I didn’t meet her until after Lewis was dead, and Kearney wasn’t supposed to die last night.
“Mm,” Jordan says with a slight smile before turning sideways so that he has both Anya and me in his vision. “Where were you last night, Mr. De Luca?”
“Here at the club,” I say. “We had our engagement party.”
He glances at the rock of a diamond on Anya’s ring finger. “What about after the party?”
I smile. “I was at home in bed with my fiancée.”
“Is that correct, Ms. Brennan?” Jordan asks.
“Yes,” she says in an unfaltering voice. “Saverio was at home with me.”
“All night?” Jordan presses.
“Yes,” she says again, making me proud of how calm she is. “Until we came in to work together this morning.”
Jordan nails her with a killer look that’ll make most men stutter. “At what time did you get home?”
“Not long after midnight.”
“And you arrived here at…?”
“Nine,” she says.
“Could he have slipped out of the house between midnight and the early morning?”
“No.” Her voice is strong and level. “We had sex three times during the night. Besides, I’m a light sleeper, especially since being pregnant. I would’ve known if he’d gotten out of bed.”
“Yes,” Jordan says, the corners of his eyes tightening with an unfriendly smile. “My wife slept very badly through all three of her pregnancies.” He turns to Giorgio. “What about you, Mr. Bianchi? Can anyone vouch for your whereabouts last night?”
“Sure.” Giorgio shrugs. “I hooked up with one of the strippers after the engagement party. I spent the night at her place.”
“I’ll need a name and a contact number to verify that,” Jordan says, getting to his feet.
Giorgio grins. “My lawyer will be in touch with the details.”
Jordan’s flat smile stretches. “Gentlemen.” He straightens his jacket. “Ms. Brennan.” He shoots a last glance at the photos on the wall of the famous movie stars and celebrities who’ve been patrons of the club through the years before walking to the door. “Thanks for your time.”
The moment he’s gone, Anya’s proud posture sags. Her shoulders slump as she places a trembling hand on her throat as if she finds it difficult to breathe.
I get up and go to her, needing to soothe her. Pride for her brilliant performance warms my chest.
Kneading her tense shoulders, I say, “You did great.”
She wheels her chair away, rejecting my touch and my offer of comfort, and stands. “I need to use the bathroom.”
I ball my hands into fists, forcing myself not to grab her by the arms and drag her back to me. Instead, I watch with mounting anger, frustration, and worry as she walks from the room.