Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 138981 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138981 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
I swallow hard. “So you think he’s just laying low and it has nothing to do with me? Or he’s getting out of town ahead of some mafia loan sharks or whatever and stalking me out here is a perfect excuse to leave?”
“Two good possibilities,” Lucas admits. “It’s also possible he’s just a paranoid little shit and nothing’s going on in his lonely-ass life.”
Whoa.
I’m not expecting the sudden harshness in his tone or that shine in his stare.
He almost sounds jealous. Overprotective.
And I almost don’t hate it.
“Well, okay.” I lick my dry lips. “What happens next?”
“We stay vigilant and keep watching,” he rumbles. “And you call me if anything out of the ordinary happens, New York. Don’t hesitate. If I’m not in, you can trust my guys. We’ve got a damn good team out here, even if we’re smaller than a wolf pack.”
“Delilah,” I say pointedly. “If you want me to call you, it’s Delilah.” I force a weak smile. “Not Miss Clarendon. Definitely not New York.”
“Delilah.” He purrs my name deeply like the huge cat he is with his hot, raspy tongue.
Anyway.
I look away, smoothing my hair back from my sweat-dotted brow. “So, when we’re talking out of the ordinary, do you mean things that go bump in the night or another dead body?”
“Either, or anywhere in between.”
“Got it.” I curl my hands tighter against the grips, staring at the screen on the treadmill. Suddenly running doesn’t have much appeal when my heart keeps racing just fine on its own.
I take a minute to figure out how to ask the question burning at the back of my brain. “Did you find out anything else about her?”
Lucas heaves a deep, slow sigh. “I can’t be disclosing case details, New York. You know that.”
“Please.” I’m so desperate I ignore the fact that he’s still using that stupid nickname. “I know I didn’t know her, but... I need to know.”
He considers it gravely, rubbing his knuckles against his dark-shadowed jaw, raking them over faint stubble.
“There’s not much to tell yet, honestly,” he says. “Though I’m due on shift in a couple hours, and we might have more in from the coroner’s office then. While we still don’t have a positive ID on her, initial toxicology and examination indicates an overdose.”
“Overdose? Oh, God.” I slowly exhale until I feel deflated. “So she wasn’t... she wasn’t murdered?”
“Not that we can tell. As far as the chief is concerned, your house is cleared as a crime scene. We didn’t find anything interesting on a full sweep. You can probably move in again soon—assuming you still want to. Can’t blame you if you’d rather pitch a tent on the street than spend another second in that place after all that.”
“I mean, that’s not what I’m worried about. I’m fine at The Rookery.” I shake my head. “But I still don’t get it. If there’s no foul play, then how did she end up there?”
“Most likely scenario?” Lucas glances over his shoulder toward Trisha, who’s at least being a bit more subtle about watching us past her phone now. His voice drops as he looks back at me. “The girl was probably involved with the folks on the hill. Every so often, they throw these big lavish parties, and now and then the guests get up to a little of their own dirty recreation on the side. Wouldn’t be surprised if she got herself high and wandered down to your house, found her way in somehow, then died there.”
I blink. “The people on the hill—what hill? I don’t—oh.” When it hits me, I gasp. “That big house? You mean...”
“Yeah. The Arrendells,” Lucas answers reluctantly, working his jaw.
Holy shit!
“The people who hired me,” I rush out, eyeing him skeptically. “The people who told me during my interview they were looking for someone with family values.”
“Different families got different values.” He shakes his head, watching me almost warily. “Maybe they got mixed up with the wrong people. Who the hell knows. A few bad errors in judgment, some shit nobody meant to happen, only it happened anyway. That’s how it works sometimes.”
I frown, starting to feel dizzy.
I’m having serious trouble reconciling any drug-fueled debauchery with the buttoned-down Ulysses Arrendell I met. Sure, he was a little too nice, but mostly he was just charming—even if the way he talks is a little odd. Too formal, I guess, the kind of speech you pick up when your parents ship you to crazy expensive boarding schools overseas.
Holding my tongue, I eye Lucas.
I don’t know what to believe.
I don’t know either of these men.
I don’t know whether Lucas would lie to me for some reason, and I also don’t know whether Ulysses would put up a charming front to hide the fact that his little party got a girl killed.
Then again, if I could trust first impressions, I’d have never dated Roger Strunk.