Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
“It happened out of nowhere,” she began, already growing teary-eyed. “I swear. It just happened. Colton has a way with words, and his smile… It blew up. I thought it would be just one night, but it turned into more, and Lionel found out. He found out I was cheating on him, and I broke down. He—such an incredible heart—he told me it was okay, that people made mistakes and I would be okay. I believed him. I thought we’d get through it together.”
She started to bawl, covering her face as tears streamed down her cheek. Marco put a reassuring arm across her shoulders. She wiggled free and stood up, hands encasing her neck as her makeup smeared underneath her eyes.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Before I could say anything, Sammy shook her head and started to walk away toward the bathroom.
“Wait, Sammy, this is helpful,” I said, trying to diffuse the situation. Matthew watched, his analytical gaze bouncing from Sammy to Marco to me.
Sammy turned to me, a couple of steps away from locking herself in the bathroom. “Is it?”
“Yes, it is. We need to know every facet of Lionel’s life. You might have the key to solving all of this. Sit.” I remained in my seat, hoping Sammy would listen and sit back on the couch. This was news, and any kind of news in a serial killer case was vital. We now had a link between Lionel and one of our top suspects. All that mattered was untangling the web and uncovering who was the one spinning it.
“I just—what else is there to talk about? You don’t think that Colton… oh no.”
“Do you still talk to him?” I asked. Sammy took a few more steps toward the bathroom.
“No. No, I stopped once Lionel found out.”
“And did Lionel ever confront Colton? Did they ever fight?”
She looked up from her feet, her eyes locking with mine, still overflowing with tears. “No.” She looked at her watch and sniffed, rubbing her face. “I have to go to work. Fuck. Okay, okay.” She rushed into the bathroom and slammed the door shut. A few moments later, she came back out with a cleaned-up face still dripping with some water. She ran a hand through her hair and straightened out the dark red polo shirt she wore, the logo of the bar printed on her chest.
“I’m going to be late,” she said, hurrying to grab her purse off the coffee table, keys jingling inside of it. “You guys have my number, right?”
“We do,” Matt answered, his hawk-like gaze pinned on Sammy. A muscle in his jaw twitched, drawing my attention to his mouth, toward his pillow lips and strong nose, broken once before when he was in high school but healing just fine. That kiss in my office… it opened floodgates I long thought were barred shut. He tasted so fucking good, and his kiss on my lips felt even better than I remembered.
It filled me with a scorching heat, the tendrils of flame tickling at my spine, burning past any guilt I felt about the kiss. I’d talk to Harry, and we could sort things out. Unless whatever he was going to say had to do with Matt… I swallowed a lump in my throat and brought myself back to the moment, ignoring the twitch against my thigh.
“Okay, I’m out. I have to run.” Sammy dipped her head and said bye before hurrying out the front door.
“She’s been different since Lionel died,” Marco said, staring a little too wistfully at the closed door. “She used to talk and joke with me for hours. Now she barely says a couple of sentences before she goes straight to her room.”
“People deal with grief differently,” I said.
Marco nodded, cracking his knuckles and kicking his legs out for a stretch. “I just want her to be okay.”
“She will be.” I stood, scanning the room a little more thoroughly. There were signs of both Marco and Sammy all around: discarded Converses by Marco’s bedroom door, two posters of Paris hanging above a packed crafting table, a pink jacket thrown over an aged red chair. “Did she spend a lot of time with Lionel when they were together?”
“Oh yeah,” Marco answered. I sensed a sting of bitterness in his voice. “All the time. They’d always hang out at his place.”
“Did you two ever have anything?” Matt asked, plucking the thought directly from my brain.
Marco’s bushy brows jerked halfway up his forehead. “No, no. Me and Sammy? No, never.” He sounded convincing, although he started to shift back and forth on the couch, as if he was working himself up to say something. He licked his dry lips and ran a hand through his long hair. Matt and I let the silence linger. “She deserved way better than Lionel, though.”