by Vanessa Vale
A couple walking by eyed me funny at my vehemence. I ran my hand over my head, stepped closer to Nix.
“I’m resigning,” I said.
He froze. “You’re serious.”
I tucked my hands in my pant pockets. “Deadly.”
“Good.”
My eyebrows went up. “Not what I was expecting to hear.”
“I called my boss. Told him I was in a relationship with Kit, a suspect, that it had been going on for a while and that wasn’t going to change.”
“I thought you said he’d shit a brick when he found out.”
“If he found out from someone besides me. Kit’s worth whatever he wanted to do to me. I don’t want to hide what we have.”
“Holy shit. You got fired?”
“He wanted to fire my ass. He wanted to suspend me. But he can’t. Not with the murder case.” He laughed, rubbed the back of his neck. “He put Miranski on the Mills case. I’m tackling all others. He’s not happy, but he’ll survive. It’s only been forty-eight hours since she was found. I handed over my notes. Miranski ran Kit’s questioning. It’s all recorded and legit. Keith Mills might have his panties in a twist, but it would only become an issue for your office… if she were actually under arrest for the crime.”
I sighed, because that was never going to happen. “Which she won’t be.”
“You’re quitting?” he asked, circling us back to my earlier announcement.
“I’ve been my dad’s pawn in the DA’s office all along.”
“You didn’t win cases because of your father.”
“No, but I got the resume building cases because Daddy’s mayor. He has plans for me.”
He studied me and I waited for him to connect the dots. “The mayor and his future DA. Nash and Nash.”
“Exactly.”
“You don’t want to be his right-hand man?” The words were laced with sarcasm. Nix knew Pops well, knew how slick he was.
“I’ll start my own practice. He won’t be happy, but his happiness is not my concern.”
“Kit’s is,” he replied, pushing off the side of his SUV.
“That’s right. I have to run. Time to watch the shit hit the fan.”
I couldn’t be happier.
KIT
I was going through the motions. I spent the night on Dolly’s couch. I’d slept on there before, back in high school when my mom had either been in one of her manic moods or in the hospital on psych eval. But I hadn’t ached for two men, nor had lusty thoughts about them that had me slipping my hands beneath my sleep shorts, still leaving me unfulfilled. I also hadn’t had nightmares of my friend being murdered.
Between crying over what I couldn’t have and waking up afraid I was next on the murderer’s list, I’d barely slept.
Thankfully, makeup covered most of the puffy eyes and dark circles. I didn’t have to think all too much working at the diner. Not that it was easy, but because, besides the one year I was in Billings, I’d been working there for a decade.
Never ending black coffee didn’t hurt either. And while it offered the pick-me-up I needed, the lunch rush helped distract me.
Where I’d been bothered by the whispers and gossip from patrons the day before, now, I barely heard it. If I did, I didn’t care. I’d discovered something that hurt worse than having people think I was a murderer. And that was saying a lot.
Like something out of a romance movie, I’d thought maybe Nix or Donovan would return. Sweep me off my feet and carry me away to a happily ever after. I loved to see the perfect happy ending in the movie theater and read about them in books, but they didn’t happen in real life. Not for me.
“How are you holding up?” Dolly asked.
I shrugged as I closed out another ticket in the computer, tearing off the bill from the little printer.
“Thought so. Listen, Wendy and Sally have been talking.”
“About me?” I asked, glancing across the restaurant at the other two waitresses.
One was taking an order and the other filling drinks at the soda machine.
“Not like that,” Dolly scolded. “Wendy’s sister got engaged over the weekend and she wants you to plan a party for her.”
“What?”
“You are an event planner, aren’t you?” she quizzed.
“Not anymore,” I replied.
The ding from the bell went off. Silverware clattered, patrons chatted.
“You still are,” she told me. “You didn’t lose your skills with Erin.”
“Yes, but… but—”
“But what?”
But who would want to have a murder suspect plan your baby shower?
Wendy came over, a very hopeful look on her pretty face. “Please say you’ll do it.” She’d been four years behind me in school, but she’d been working at Dolly’s for a few years and we’d been friendly.
“You’re not worried?”
She frowned. “Have you met my mother? She wants to play hostess on her back patio with streamers and her crock-pot full of barbecue mini hot dogs beside a seven-layer bean dip with the football game on the TV in the background.”
I didn’t want to cringe and insult her mother, but yikes. “I can probably top that,” I said.
She beamed. “You’ve saved my life. And my mother’s because my sister would have probably killed her. I’ll catch up with you about the details and a time to meet my sister.”
A patron at one of her tables waved her down and she left.
“One event at a time, hon, and your company will take off. Just wait and see.”
Dolly patted my arm and got back to work.
My section for the shift was the lunch counter. Those who came in alone usually took a spot. I walked down the line handing out their bills and checking on beverage refills.
Working my way back, I spotted Lucas Mills settling into a spot.
Lucas.
I hadn’t seen him in a long time, well before I left to go to Billings. We’d dated after high school. He’d been sweet. Kind. The first guy to actually like me. At nineteen, we’d been each other’s firsts. I’d been surprised when he’d told me he’d never been with anyone. He had those boy-next-door good looks with his fair hair and killer smile, and I’d expected him to have gotten lucky well before me.
But he hadn’t and while it had been sweet… yup, that word again, it had been awkward. And it had hurt. I had no doubt he’d worked on his technique since that long-ago night. He was even more handsome than ever, and I didn’t doubt if he had a girlfriend.
I’d loved him once. Or thought I had. Maybe it had been a first love kind of thing, more surprise and giddiness, fizzy desire and breathy need. But it hadn’t been deep. I could see that now.
Nix and Donovan had showed me not only what real sex was like, but what real love felt like, too. It was wonderful. And awful.
Lucas saw me and offered a smile. I made my way to him, realizing there was so much more than the counter between us. His sister had been murdered. I was one of the last people to see her alive. And I was a suspect. What was he doing here during such a terrible time for his family?
“Kit.”
“Lucas. It’s… I’m, god, I’m so sorry about Erin.”
He gave me a sad smile. He and Erin looked so much alike. Fair, blue eyed. The same face shape even. Erin had been tall, but nowhere near the six-two of Lucas. He’d gone into the military—the reason why we didn’t stay together—and that had bulked him up. He’d been back in town for a few years, but he hadn’t lost a bit of the muscle.
“Yeah, I know. She was excited for you to come back and work together.”
A pang of sadness hit me. “It was good.”
“We weren’t that close, she and I,” he admitted. “Not since I came back. She was… different.”
I knew what he was talking about. While she hadn’t had tons of responsibility because of her money, she’d turned… reckless in the past few years. Lots of men. Partying. I hadn’t been able to keep
up. I hadn’t wanted to. I knew Lucas, at least the younger version. I’d heard he’d been deployed to Afghanistan and had been injured. Had a rough go of it for a while before founding his non-profit. He’d been quiet and introverted before, but if he struggled with his deployment, he probably couldn’t keep up with Erin either.
“It doesn’t make it easier,” I offered. “She was special to a lot of people.”
It was true. Every word. I just didn’t know what else to say. I didn’t do it wasn’t going to work. His sister had been murdered. It wasn’t about me.
“Can I get you a cup of coffee?” I asked, remembering why he was here.
“Sure.”
I turned and grabbed a cup and saucer and the fresh pot. I was pouring it when the entry door was flung open. “Lucas!”
It was Keith Mills. Fuck.
He stalked over to his son. “What are you doing here?”
Lucas lifted his cup. “Having coffee.”
“With her? Are you insane? She killed Erin!”
You could hear a cracker snap in the restaurant. Everyone was staring.
“Mr. Mills, I didn’t—”
His gaze lifted to mine, filled with a hatred I’d never seen before. He looked as put together as ever with his pressed pants and golf shirt, but he had a wildness about him. I knew people who lost their children went out of their minds with grief. Some went a little crazy. But this? All of his grieving and frustration at Erin’s murder seemed directed solely on me.
“I don’t want to hear it,” he shouted. “It’s lies, all of it. You’ve got people believing your sweet and innocent act, but I won’t.”
Lucas slowly stood, put himself between me and his father as if the counter wasn’t enough.
“She didn’t kill Erin,” Lucas said.
Mr. Mills flashed his anger at Lucas. “You don’t know that!”
“You don’t know she did it,” he replied calmly. His back was to me, but I could easily compare his calm stance to his father’s tense one. “If you did, you’d have told the police and they would have arrested her.”
“She’s been a menace to our family for years.”
Lucas shook his head. “She’s been a friend.”
“Friend? You’re one to talk.” Mr. Mills pointed at him. “She had you panting all over her, had a tight grip on your balls until you went overseas.”
“Yes, Dad. I had to go to war to get away from her ruthless clutches.”
Mr. Mills wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “She’s a money grubbing—”
“Don’t say it, Mills, or I’ll have you arrested for slander.” Detective Miranski stood behind Mr. Mills, hands on her hips. She was tall for a woman, but not as big as Keith Mills. But, if I had to put money on who’d win a fist fight, I’d back her. And the service pistol on her hip.
“She—” Mr. Mills began.
“She didn’t kill your daughter,” Miranski said, loud enough for everyone in the diner to clearly hear. She wasn’t from Cutthroat. She was close enough in age that I would have come across her often enough. Still, she knew how small towns worked, that the best way to get accurate information out was to spread it yourself, and the diner was the perfect place to do so. Because of his outburst, Keith Mills had given her the perfect opportunity.
My eyes widened at her statement. She’d been by the books until now. Making such a statement meant—
“You don’t know that!” he shouted.
“Actually, I do. A man confessed to the murder. He’s in jail right now.”
13
DONOVAN
“Donnie,” Pops said as he saw me.
He was walking down the hall with a man and a woman, but excused himself to join me. I was leaning against the wall outside of his office. The city building had been built in the late 1800s. Made of brick, it had high ceilings, large windows and wood floors. It had been renovated about a decade ago to historical preservation standards, but also to become energy efficient. The only outward change to the place was the addition of an elevator back in the sixties.
“You’re on the wrong floor.”
“I came by to tell you something.”
He looked at his watch. “I’ve got a few minutes.”
“Thought I’d give you the courtesy of telling you before you heard it from someone else.”
He arched a brow. “Oh?”
“I quit.”
His face went slack and he stepped closer. “You what?” he whispered.
“I quit.”
He looked both directions down the hall. “I heard you the first time. Why?”
“As a thank you.”
He frowned. “A thank you? What the fuck are you talking about?”
Ah, the swear words. He was pissed. Like I gave a shit.
“I figured you wouldn’t want the scandal of a prosecutor being in a relationship with a suspect, and when cleared, a witness in a murder trial.”
His eyes flared, catching on quick enough. “I know you’re fucking Kit Lancaster, but—”
“I am.” I wasn’t fifteen. While I didn’t kiss and tell, denying it wasn’t going to work here, especially when I knew my dad kept tabs on me, had people loyal to him even watching me, his own fucking son.
“For fuck’s sake, there’s pussy everywhere in this town. You’re my son. You’re a Nash. We can get any woman we want.”
I had no interest in reading into that statement or the women he slept with.
“I want Kit.”
“She can’t be worth chucking your career over?”
I nodded. “She is. I love her and I’m going to marry her.”
A vein popped out on his forehead.
“Ethically, I would have to recuse myself from the Mills case. I can’t be impartial when it comes to her. She didn’t do it.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
“You’re walking away from being DA.”
“I’m walking away from being your puppet,” I countered.
“Puppet? We’d be perfect together. Keeping the town safe.”
“You want the power. I want justice.”
He scoffed at that. Put his hands on his hips and paced in a circle. “What are you going to do now?”
“I’ll put out a shingle.”
“You’re making a huge mistake,” he replied.
It was very obvious he wasn’t going to be coming to our wedding.
Nix came down the hall at a fast clip, stopped in front of us. He nodded at Pops, then looked to me. “A man turned himself in and confessed to killing Erin Mills. Miranski and the chief questioned him. He did it.”
Relief coursed through me. Kit was safe. She was no longer a suspect. That meant we could be together. “Then we can go get our girl.”
Nix nodded. “That’s right.”
“What are you talking about?” Pops asked.
I looked to him, saw him differently for the first time. A weight had been lifted. Not because of the murderer being caught, but because I was no longer considering my dad in any of my decisions. I was excited about quitting. Cutthroat wasn’t a metropolis like New York, but I punched a clock, reported to a boss. And my boss reported to Pops.
I was free of that shit now. I was free of the politics that came with the DA’s office, with my dad.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” I told my dad. “You might have known about me and Kit, but Nix is fucking her, too. We’re both marrying her.”
The look on Pops’ face was priceless.
“What am I supposed to tell people?”
I laughed, slapped him on the shoulder. “As mayor of a progressive, modern town, I’d say you’re thrilled your son’s found love and that Kittredge Lancaster is quite the woman if she’s captured the hearts of not one man, but two.”
KIT
After Detective Miranski left, escorting Mr. Mills to his car and ensuring he pulled out of the diner’s lot before leaving herself, I went into the storage room and c
ried.
Cried for Erin, who’s end was because of some man who was now in custody. While Miranski blatantly shared that a man had been arrested for the crime, she hadn’t shared the why of it all. Why had he killed her? Who was the man and what was his relationship to Erin?
It would all come out soon enough, but for now, I was relieved he was in jail. Relieved he hadn’t really been after me, although that was still just an assumption. I grieved for my friend, for what could have been.
I also grieved for myself. For losing a friend. A job. For my mother who was still a hot mess, for what could have been with her if she wasn’t so consumed by her mental illness. By finding love with Nix and Donovan and losing it. For giving it up.
For everything.
I was back in Cutthroat where I belonged. I could avoid Mr. and Mrs. Mills. I’d done it for years. Perhaps he’d only find me a money grubber now and not a murderer on top of it. And yes, I’d totally corrupted Shane by stealing his virginity, but he wouldn’t see it that way. As for any other haters… they could fuck off.
I had Dolly. Clyde. The other ladies at the diner who’d I’d been friendly with but broke ties when I moved away. I had my first job as an event planner. All on my own.
It wasn’t much, but it was something. I didn’t need to go big, I just needed to keep moving forward.
As for Nix and Donovan? Fuck, it was going to be really hard to see them walking down the street, at a restaurant, moving on and dating someone else. Marrying her.
I swiped my tears away. I’d done the right thing. I had.
But it hurt like a bitch.
The storeroom door burst open. I jumped a foot.
It was Nix and Donovan, side by side, completely blocking my way.
“What… what are you doing here?”
“Claiming our woman,” Donovan said.
Claiming—
“What?” I replied.
Donovan stepped into the room, Nix following. He closed the door, leaned against it, arms crossed. “We’re here to get you back.”
My heart was practically beating out of my chest. They wanted me. They came for me.
“But the murderer—”
