Chapter 17
Denver
Quinn Marshall is going down.
After hours of her asking me the same question over and over, I’m ready to lose my shit.
I’ll strangle her with her own ponytail, and I’ll enjoy every damn second of it.
I’ve started singing “no comment” instead of saying it, and my throat is hurting from my operatic performance an hour ago, but it gave me some satisfaction watching her wince when I tried to hit high notes.
But fuck this lady and fuck her half-assed CCTV footage that only shows me parking outside the house of a guy who later died. I resisted telling Detective Marshall that most of the men I spend late nights with are now dead. It’s an unfortunate consequence of being close to me.
I slump back on the bed, resting my head on the cold wall. I’ve been here all night and might be here for another, if the lawyer isn’t able to get me out. I need a shower, a cup of coffee, and a hug from Colt. And maybe a gun to forever remove Quinn Marshall from existence.
“Ah, here she is,” I sigh as Quinn comes into view. “The apple of my eye. My favorite detective in the whole wide world. How are you?”
“Well rested and caffeinated,” she says, standing on the other side of the bars with a grin on her face. “How about you?”
“Thrilled. It’s not the Ritz, but it’s good to venture outside of my bubble.” I stand and sidle confidently up to her. “Got any gum? I have morning breath. Unless you like that kind of thing.”
She rests her elbow on the bars. “Is this how you were with Holden Hayes? Y’know, before you killed him.”
I imitate a buzzer when an answer is wrong. “Incorrect, Detective. I was cleared of all charges.”
“You were cleared for your husband’s murder, too. Lots of men seem to die around you.” She winces dramatically. “I hope Colt Harland isn’t next.”
My smile vanishes and I lean close. “I don’t think he’ll be next, Detective.”
Quinn laughs. “Threatening me, Deluxe?”
“A harmless observation.” I saunter back to my bed.
“Marshall,” someone says from down the hall.
She turns on her heel and I call out, “If you’re heading out, I’d love a latte!”
I sit back down and wait. I may dislike the woman, but torturing her is at the very least entertaining.
And seeing her thunderous expression as she returns is like Christmas all over again.
She unlocks the cell. “You’re free to go.”
I cup my ear. “What was that?”
“Get out of the fucking cell, Denver.”
“I swear there’s an apology buried in there somewhere.” I stand and glide past her, winking.
My bravado slips when I see Colt in the waiting room. I rush over and wrap my arms around him. He lifts me, squeezing me tightly. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I whisper. He places me on my feet and cups my face.
“You’re sure? I’m sorry I couldn’t get you out sooner.”
“It’s okay …” My voice trails away, and I touch his split lip. “What happened? Were you fighting?”
He catches my hand gently, his gaze flicking behind me. “Let’s talk in the car.”
I turn to see Quinn watching us, arms folded, her glare a brand on my back. The door to the station opens.
“Ready to go when you are, boss,” Charlie announces.
“What are you doing here? Who’s with Holly?” I ask, my heart racing. “She isn’t alone? Is your mom alone, Colt?”
Colt rests his hand on my lower back. “Cain’s men are with them. Charlie wanted to be here.”
My heart slows slightly, but not enough to truly allow me to relax. Someone we know should be with Holly. I know he trusts Cain’s men, but what if they’ve been compromised and we don’t know?
“Denver,” Colt says softly. “I wouldn’t have allowed it if I didn’t think it was safe. It’ll be fine. They’ll be fine. I promise.”
Reluctantly, I nod.
“Hey, cutie,” Charlie says, and flashes a grin at Quinn. “What are you in for?”
I clear my throat. “Charlie, she’s the detective on my case.”
He grimaces. “Ugh, gross. I almost flirted with a cop.” He points at her. “A face like that is entrapment.” Quinn huffs and walks away. “Damn cops. They should all wear uniforms, so we know who to avoid. Home, anyone?” He ushers us out the door.
Once Colt and I are in the back of the car, I reach for his hand. “Are you going to tell me about the lip or not?”
Tension bunches his shoulders, and he tries to roll them out. “Alistair and I had a disagreement.”
I groan. “Please tell me it wasn’t over me.”
“It was over you,” Charlie pipes up.
“Colt.” I face him. “You’re hitting each other now? Why? What could possibly have led to that?”
“I thought it was him who sent the footage to the cops,” he says. “And he said he didn’t, but that he wanted to. We argued. I lost my temper. He lost his.”
My heart becomes a dull ache. This isn’t what I wanted. I dislike Alistair, but I don’t want Colt’s relationship with him to suffer just because I’m in his life.
“Then what?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Then he left.”
I search his face. “And that’s it?”
“What else is there?” he asks. “He said I chose you, and I do. You’re my wife, Denver. If he can’t get on board with that—”
“You got married?” Charlie squeaks. “And you spent your first night as Colt’s wife in jail? My God, woman, you are a Harland.”
I smile weakly, sinking low into the seat as guilt overtakes the worry of the night.
“Then we find Alistair, and we fix it,” I say.
“We have more things to worry about than Alistair throwing a tantrum. Denver, you were arrested for murder.”
Not my first time. Not even my second. I was arrested for Holden Hayes’s murder, too, when his body was found with a bullet in the brain and burned to a crisp in my club. A crime Axel committed to keep me safe.
“Reid is going to meet us at the house,” Colt says. “We’ll figure it out.”
If this had been my first arrest, I’d feel more confident, but I think there’s a set number of times in your life where you can get away with taking a life, and three might be pushing my luck.
When we get home, Taf, JJ, and Lewis welcome me back, but their smiles are strained, likely wondering if I know the reason behind Alistair’s absence. Colt’s right, though. That can be fixed later.
Reid McManon is all business when he arrives. His light brown hair is tinged with gray, and wrinkles are set into a handsome, broad face. He’s in his early forties, and judging by the ring of white around his wedding finger, recently divorced.
“Okay, honesty first. If they get the rest of that CCTV, how fucked are we?” he asks, leaning back in the dining room chair.
“On a scale of one to ten? Totally fucked,” I admit.
He nods. “I thought so. Any leads on who leaked it?”
Colt shakes his head. “I thought I knew, but now I’m not so sure.”
“Could it be Ranger?” Reid asks me. “Ex-husbands can be bitter, especially when you remarry.”
I play with my necklace. “Ranger doesn’t know I remarried, but I don’t think he did this.
He may be angry, but even he wouldn’t want me in jail.
If it were Colt on that tape? I’d say definitely.
But not me. He’d rather I be dead than locked away.
” Colt tenses, his biceps flexing underneath his shirt. “I’m just being honest.”
“I know,” he says with practiced calm. “Doesn’t mean I like it.”
“So, what happens now?” I ask.
Reid says, “You weren’t charged, so that’s good news, but Marshall is going to come for you.
Hard. Apparently, she was already looking into you, and a run-in with Ranger lit a fire under her ass.
” Typical. Still affected by a man who has done nothing but slowly ruin me since I fucking met him.
“You need to lie low. Don’t leave the state. ”
“Behave?” I offer weakly.
He nods. “Yep. Be a bride. Enjoy your marital bliss. I’ll work on keeping you out of jail legally. Colt can do the other stuff I don’t know about.”
Colt gives me a reassuring smile, and it eases my worries somewhat. If anyone can keep me safe and out of jail, it’s him. Reid leaves, and once we’re alone in the hallway, Colt kisses me.
“What if we can’t fix this?” I ask. “Whoever has that footage decides my future.”
Colt runs his fingers through my hair. “Then we run.”
My heart stalls a little at the thought. “But Holly—”
“She’ll come with us. We can start a life anywhere, Del. We have money. Resources. If we need to run, we’ll run.”
Running. Forever. Always looking over our shoulders. Always wondering if the next person we meet could recognize us.
“We’re not running,” I say. “Holly deserves a better life than that. And running makes me look guilty.”
Colt smiles softly and gently grips my chin. “Denver, my love, light of my fucking life—you are guilty.”
“I mean … technically,” I mumble.
Colt has a meeting with Andrzej Nowak, and given that the head of the Polish mafia rarely makes himself available, he has no choice but to go and strengthen our brittle relationship with him.
Once he’s gone, I shower, change into pajamas, and decide to sit with Ronan.
I rest my elbow on the bed, my chin on my hand, and watch him sleep. It’s nearly two months since the explosion, and his breathing tube is out, but he still isn’t awake. I honestly don’t know what we’ll do if he doesn’t wake up.
“If you could just open your eyes, that’d be great,” I whisper, taking his hand. “We need some good news.”
He doesn’t stir. No blinking, no twitching, no tightening of his fingers against mine.
The weight of the last week has me resting my cheek on the bed, and despite fighting it, I close my eyes, sleep washing over my mind.
I dream of being in that cold cell, but flickers of city hall come back to me, too. To Colt’s smiling face as we promised each other forever, and I became his wife—
My phone ringing tears me from the dream, and I answer. “Yep?”
“Did I wake you?”
I rub my face, grateful to hear Colt’s voice. It’s dark outside, so I must have been out for hours. “No, I needed to get up. Are you all right?”