19. June
19
JUNE
I ’m just minding my own business when Anderson walks in with a look on his face so scary that I would have sworn he’d been in another fatal fight. I leap to my feet and rush to his side. “Baby, what’s?—"
But he grabs me in a bear hug that he clearly needs more than my words. So, I hold on until his body goes … well, not limp exactly, but slightly less tense. He kisses the top of my head, then goes straight to the scotch.
“What is going on? Did somebody die?”
That makes him blink at me. “What? No.”
“The way you looked when you walked in, I wasn’t sure. Tell me what’s going on now. I don’t think I can take another surprise.”
He sighs and sets the scotch down. “I spoke to the police today.”
My book falls from my hands, and I don’t bother to pick it up. “You did what?”
“Yeah. With Otto Pym?—"
“Otto ‘The Blade’ Pym?” A shiver shoots down my back.
“He’s not as scary as the rumors would have you believe.”
“I’ll take your word for it. How—your dad, right? He hired him?”
Anderson nods. “And Otto is worried.”
Fuck. The Blade is nothing if not confident. “Worried why, specifically?”
“Connolly, of Bryce-Connolly, does not like the bad press that’s coming out over this, and he has connections at every level of law enforcement.”
I can’t wrap my head around that. “Neil was a new hedge fund manager. Why would Connolly care about that?”
“Doesn’t matter. Since no one local knew Neil, the only connection people make in the news is that he worked there, so their name is tainted, and Connolly thinks it’s bad press. Pym says he’s likely a part of the reason this is getting so much attention. Connolly wants this solved, so they’re going to come down hard on anyone associated with the case.”
I snatch his scotch and knock it back before pouring him a new one. This is too much. I can’t keep taking more shit, and I can’t avoid it, either. It’s all I can do to keep breathing, and my legs are going boneless. “I can’t … I just can’t … what do we do?”
His head tips back in frustration before he drinks his scotch. “In a perfect world, we’d just run away. Leave it all behind. No forwarding addresses … just ghost everyone.”
“In your perfect world, we’re fugitives?”
He lifts a shoulder and smirks. “Think about it, and tell me it doesn’t have a certain appeal.”
I huff a laugh. It’s absurd. We’re adults. We can’t just run away from home.
But…
Admittedly, it sounds amazing. Still not an option, though. “It’s a nice fantasy, but we live in the real world, and in the real world, we are fucked.”
“We are not fucked. We?—"
“If Otto Pym is nervous, then we are fucked with a capital F.” And now, I hear it in my voice. The fear.
Anderson takes my hands and presses them to his chest before kissing my palms. “Baby, I love you.”
I don’t know why, but hearing that now brings tears to my eyes. “I love you too, but that doesn’t?—"
He kisses me.
I push him away. “We need to talk!”
“I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to think. I just want you.”
“You’re being ridiculous! We have to talk about this and face things like adults. And what are we doing talking about this here ?”
“If you want to go for a walk, then we can, but it’s raining, and it’s icy, and it’s not as if I’m going to say anything I didn’t say in the interrogation room, so relax.”
I laugh in his face. “Relax? Did you really just say that to me? The police have questioned us both about a possible homicide, and you want me to relax?”
He takes a deep breath and stares into my eyes. “June. Nothing gets solved by panicking, right?”
“Because panicking is optional to you? It’s not to me. Panicking is pretty much my go-to response when the police are sniffing around.”
“Not your first rodeo?” He arches a brow at me.
“No.” I can barely get the word out. The feeling of drowning and that hand dragging me under … God, it comes back so fast.
“What—"
“Now is not the time.” I put enough steel in my voice that he only nods in response. “What are we going to do?”
“We’ve both spoken to the police. Now’s the time when we wait to see what comes of that. If they’re smart, they’ll see we had nothing to do with anything.” He mouths, “Bugs.” Then he continues, “I’m sure they will keep an eye on us in one way or another, and that’s fine. We have nothing to hide. I think our best course of action is to do what we’d normally do.”
The thought of going to work tomorrow is almost as unfathomable as prison. I’m too boggled, too messy. Go there and pretend to be an adult? I’ve run out of my capacity for pretending. It’s just gone.
“I don’t think I can do that. I’m too freaked out. Normal? You mean go to work? Friends? Family? Anderson, I am out of fucks. I have no more fucks to give. The police took them all. How am I supposed to operate like this?”
“There’s option b.”
“Whatever it is, yes.”
“We take a few days off and find a cabin in the woods to renew ourselves.”
I laugh. Hard and loud. “Are you insane? We’re persons of interest in a murder investigation. We are lawyers. We know what that looks like!”
He strolls up to me, putting his hands on my hips. Anderson’s smile makes me want to smack him for being so chill about this. “You’re right. I do know what it looks like. It looks like two people, stressed out, going for a little rest and relaxation. We will call everyone important, tell them we’re sick, and head up north for a little while. We’ve never done a road trip. It’ll be fun.”
“You’re insane.”
“About you.”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t stop myself from smiling. “You’re better than that. Try again.”
He grins. “Baby, it’s not like we’re heading to someplace without extradition. I was thinking about Vermont. No one told us not to leave town or the state or anything like that. We’re not under arrest, and given the circumstances, I think we deserve a chance to enjoy something before this shitshow gets any worse, don’t you?”
He's right about that, at least. Some time away does sound nice, especially out of the city. But the implications are terrible. “And how do we explain this to the police?”
“Why would we? We’re not in their custody. We don’t owe them explanations about our leisure time, and even if we did, what are we doing wrong?”
In all fairness, he’s got me there. “I’m just … I’m just scared, baby.”
“I know.” He kisses my forehead. “And all the noise in that big brain of yours isn’t going to get better here and now. But some time away might be just the thing you need to quiet that down.”
I lean my head on his chest. It feels so good to let him hold me right now. He’s my rock. “So, when you brought up the fact that I keep stuff to myself … is that what inspired this idea?”
“Might be.”
He’s trying to be there for me. I should let him. I take a deep breath of him. His scent always puts me at ease. But I also steal the rest of his scotch again. “Let’s do it.”
“Is that you or the scotch talking?”
“Please. The scotch is good, but it’s not that good. You’re right. We need a damn break, and if the world won’t give us one, then by God, we will take one.”
He smiles, his face finally relaxing. “You mean that?”
“I do. When do you want to?—"
“How about now?”
“Seriously?”
“Can’t think of a better time. Can you?”
He ’ s right. I shrug. “It’s like a four-hour drive to Vermont from here. Are you sure you’re up for that?”
“Absolutely. Let’s pack some bags and get the hell out of Dodge.”
“I’m feeling more relaxed already.” I pad to the bedroom and grab the luggage.
“Just one thing you have to do before we go.”
“What’s that?”
“Promise me you’re not bringing your laptop.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “Not an ice cream cone’s chance in hell am I bringing my laptop.”
He smacks my ass, then works on his own luggage. From the decision to walking out the door takes fifteen minutes, and even though every lawyer instinct in me screams this is a mistake, it’s one I want to make.
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