 by Marie James.jpg)
Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74749 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
How joking with Detective Lennox Maison about her handcuffs transformed into her actually arresting me was something I could’ve never predicted.
I thought it was a joke at first, but what kind of person would joke about the murder of a local woman?
Lennox claimed I was the last one to see her alive.
I should have an alibi. I should be able to tell them exactly what I was doing that night.
The truth is, I can’t remember, and that argument never holds up in court.
I manage to convince her that I’m innocent, only for it to happen again.
I not only have to worry about being falsely accused of murder, but now I have to worry if I’ve put Lennox in the crosshairs of a serial killer.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter 1
Lennox
I don’t know if the rhythm of my heart will ever return to normal.
I also don’t know if I want it to.
Deep breaths while looking up at the ceiling aren’t helping, and I know I look like a fool, but my night has just been too good to care right now.
No-strings sex is always a gamble. There’s no way to tell if it’s going to be horrible or life altering.
I got lucky this time with the latter. I roll my head on the pillow, a small smile playing on my lips at the sight of him sleeping, mouth open half an inch as he breathes softly. The mouth breathing should be a complete turn off, but I just can’t find it in me to care, knowing it’s a little weird that it’s bordering on cute to me. I know my reaction to him would be a lot different if it weren’t for the things this man made me feel tonight.
Leaving the gym with a guy that didn’t even tell me his name is both uncomplicated and extremely dangerous. The thrill and danger of it lit me on fire.
Honestly, I should know better. I’d tell every other woman in the world that taking such risks could end very badly for them. I don’t know why I put myself in such a dangerous situation this evening, but I just couldn’t walk away from him. I was trapped by the cocky grin, and with how he left me melting with the way he swept his eyes down my body. I felt his silent attraction to me as if it were a tangible thing, as if it had enough consistency to be picked up and carried in my pocket any time I was feeling down about myself.
I should leave. I should get out of bed, get dressed, and never look back. That’s how tonight should end, but I find myself more reluctant than normal to leave this hotel room.
The buzz of my phone on the bedside table is an omen, a reminder that no-strings means exactly that. This man is no more interested in me sticking around than I should be, no matter how sizzling the sex was.
The message on the phone both thrills me and makes me sad.
As a homicide detective for the Farmington Police Department, it’s never a good sign when my phone lights up in the middle of the night.
As quietly as I can, I climb out of bed and gather my strewn clothes. I smile as I drop to my knees in search of my bra. We weren’t exactly careful or concerned about where things landed earlier. I bite the inside of my cheek in an effort to keep from smiling, knowing I should have better control over myself than I do, as I get dressed.
As I’m pulling my shirt over my head, he rolls on the bed, his smile soft and satiated, no doubt matching the one I’ve been unable to control. I grin back at him wordlessly, giving him a final, little wave after gathering up all my things.
He doesn’t stop me or ask for my number as I open the door and leave the room.
There’s always an off chance of running into him again at the gym, and that possibility of a rendezvous keeps me company all the way to the address that was sent to my phone.
There’s a sinister feel to the air when I climb out of my car near the edge of the field. It seems I’m the last to arrive. The red-and-blue flashing lights on several patrol cars cast an almost cartoonish glow on the scene.
Senior Homicide Detective Colton Matthews glances up from the notepad in his hand as I approach. He looks somber, more so than he normally does at a scene, but it’s a good thing the man hasn’t become hardened to murder. When that happens, it’s time to switch gears and do something else with your career.
He’s silent as I take in my surroundings. It’s certainly a dump job, as people don’t usually walk around in empty fields. There’s one set of shoe prints, and a double line etched in the dirt leading up to the body, indicating the victim was dragged to this location.
“Who called it in?”
Colton’s lips form a flat line before he responds. “A woman that lives half a mile away. Her kids found her earlier in the day and mentioned it at dinner. She thought they were lying, said it was just eating at her and she couldn’t sleep, so she called the department.”
Mentioned it at dinner. Like a dead woman in a field is barely worth a mention over chicken nuggets and macaroni and cheese.
“We’ll make contact with the reporter in the morning and offer counseling services for the children,” Colton continues.
I nod, pulling my eyes from his. I know there’s disappointment in my eyes that matches his. Farmington isn’t a community that has a plethora of violent murders, like larger cities. We have our fair share of domestic abuse that turns fatal, car accidents, death under suspicious circumstances, but murder isn’t an everyday occurrence. Because of this, the children that found her should’ve been horrified. They should’ve run home screaming and crying. It says a lot about the things our children have digital access to if they aren’t just utterly horrified at what they found.