by Jewel E. Ann
I glare at him through squinted eyes.
After a few seconds he swears under his breath and stands. “You said yes earlier. There’s no taking it back now.” He interlaces our fingers and presses my hands to the window of his truck next to my head. “There will be a wedding and a white dress. You will take my fucking breath away a million times before we make it to the reception. We’ll dance to the sappiest love song ever composed. You’ll pitch the bouquet to a group of jealous women. Then I will stand in the middle of a ridiculously expensive hotel suite like an idiot in awe of the fact that the kindest, most beautiful woman ever said ‘yes’ to me.”
He loosens his grip on my hands, but I don’t move them.
“Then I’ll unwrap you like the gift you are and always have been to me. I’ll thank the food gods every day for bringing us to checkout lane number three a little past five on a sunny Thursday afternoon in March.”
I blink, releasing a single tear. He kisses it away.
“But this is it … this is the epic proposal that you’ll tell our kids and grandkids. You pinned against my truck, in tears and pissed off at me. And me refusing to let you go. I will never let you go.”
I swallow back as much emotion as I possibly can. The rest stays lodged in my throat. “I can’t believe you remember the time of day and checkout lane number,” I whisper.
“I remember all life-changing moments.”
Like this one … this is a life-changing moment. I will remember it forever. But I hate that I’m sharing it with Nate. Griffin resides in my heart and the forefront of my mind. My desire to spend the rest of my life with him is indisputable.
What I fear is Nate. What if he lives in my soul? Even worse … what if she lives in my soul?
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, completely releasing my hands.
I wrap my arms around his neck and he hugs me to him.
“Let’s go to my apartment.”
*
“What’s going on?” I say as Griffin parks his truck up the street from my apartment building. A swarm of emergency vehicles blocks the road, along with crime scene tape.
We worm our way through the small crowd of onlookers.
“Sorry, you’ll have to stay behind the tape,” a police officer says.
“I live here. What’s going on?”
“I’m not at liberty to share any information. I’ll need to see some identification before I can let you in the building.”
Griffin rests his hand on my lower back as I dig my wallet out of my purse.
The officer inspects my driver’s license. “Barnes?” he calls.
A shorter man in uniform turns and walks toward us.
“Swayze Samuels. 2B.” The first officer hands me back my driver’s license.
“I’m Detective Barnes. I’ll escort you to your apartment, and then I need to ask you a few questions.”
“What’s going on?”
He doesn’t answer. He just turns and heads toward the entrance surrounded by police officers and a few other tenants I recognize. One of the ladies wipes her red, tear-stained eyes, giving me a grievous look as I pass her.
Griffin’s hand goes from my back to interlacing his fingers with mine as we make our way up the stairs. When we reach the top by my door, I twist around toward the voices above me.
“No …” The air explodes from my lungs, leaving me gasping for my next breath.
There’s a few more officers outside of Erica’s apartment, which is blocked off with crime scene tape.
I tear my hand out of Griffin’s and run up the stairs.
No. No. NO!
“Ma’am—”
I charge my way past the officers, catching them off guard, past the tape, and into the apartment filled with more police and a few other people in suits, including a guy standing in her hallway taking photos, his lens directed into the bathroom.
“Miss, you can’t be in here.”
I move faster than the officer trying to get my attention. I need to know what’s in Erica’s bathroom.
“Swayz …” Griffin’s voice is nothing but an echo as I see it—her.
I can’t fucking breathe.
“No …” I pant, gasping for air. Desperate to make sense of what I’m seeing.
The photographer says something to me, pointing me away from the bathroom door. It’s all echoes. Every voice.
My vision blurs.
A hand wraps around my arm and another around my waist, ushering me out of the apartment.
Echoes everywhere.
The room spins but it doesn’t erase what I saw. Erica’s naked body in a bathtub of water. No blood.
It’s Griffin. He’s guiding me to the stairs. I think he’s saying my name. I’m not sure. The door to Dougly Mann’s apartment is open. He’s sitting on his sofa talking to an officer in the chair next to him, jotting down notes.
Scar-faced, clown-haired, creepy neighbor glances up as I pass his door. He winks.
The. World. Stops.
“Come on, Swayze.” Griffin’s voice sounds like it’s underwater.
I don’t move. I can’t move.
Dougly winked at me. I’ve seen that wink before. His nose twitched when he did it. He’s not that good at it. But the last time I saw him wink, the scar on his face was not pink and pearly-edged. It wasn’t a scar at all. It was a bleeding wound. Blood running down his neck. Blood pooling at the corner of his mouth, and when he grinned there was blood covering his teeth. But he winked and his nose did that weird, unmistakable twitch.
“You killed her,” I whisper.
He keeps his eyes on me.
“You killed her,” I say louder, pulling away from Griffin.
“Swayze …”
The officer in his apartment turns and looks at me.
“You killed her!” I run toward him and the officer stands and blocks my way, holding out his hand.
“Can we get some help in here?” He looks over my shoulder.
“Swayze?” Griffin grabs my arms and pulls me back. “Erica? You think he killed Erica?”
I shake my head while fighting Griffin’s grip so I can reach my phone.
“Miss Samuels, we need you to come with us.” Detective Barnes jerks his head toward the stairs as I fight to hold my ground in the hall outside of the murderer’s apartment.
“Swayze, let’s go to your apartment.”
I shake my head, swinging my elbows as Griffin tries to pull me toward the stairs.
“It’s here,” I mumble, my shaky hands move over the screen of my phone. “Here.” I hold up my phone toward the door to Doug’s apartment.
“You. Killed. Her!”
Doug squints his beady eyes and slowly stands, moving past the officer, keeping his gaze on the screen of my phone.
I try to move closer to him, but Griffin doesn’t let me budge.
Doug stops, blinking slowly several times at the screen of my phone. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. It’s him. He knows I know it. I see the recognition in his face as he looks at the photo.
“Let’s go.” Griffin loses his patience, grabs my phone, and pulls me down the stairs.
I keep my head turned as Doug stares at me until the door to my apartment closes. Even now. I stare at the door, unblinking.
“Miss Samuels. We need to ask you some questions.”
“Swayz?”
I slowly turn toward Griffin and Detective Barnes.
Griffin holds up my phone. “Who is this?”
Blink.
Blink.
Blink.
“It’s Morgan Daisy Gallagher.”
End of Book One
Order Epoch, the conclusion to the Transcend Duet, today!
Also by Jewel E. Ann
Jack & Jill Series
End of Day
Middle of Knight
Dawn of Forever
Holding You Series
Holding You
Releasing Me
Standalone Nov
els
Idle Bloom
Only Trick
Undeniably You
One
Scarlet Stone
When Life Happened
Look the Part
jeweleann.com
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About the Author
Jewel is a free-spirited romance junkie with a quirky sense of humor.
With 10 years of flossing lectures under her belt, she took early retirement from her dental hygiene career to stay home with her three awesome boys and manage the family business.
After her best friend of nearly 30 years suggested a few books from the Contemporary Romance genre, Jewel was hooked. Devouring two and three books a week but still craving more, she decided to practice sustainable reading, AKA writing.
When she’s not donning her cape and saving the planet one tree at a time, she enjoys yoga with friends, good food with family, rock climbing with her kids, watching How I Met Your Mother reruns, and of course…heart-wrenching, tear-jerking, panty-scorching novels.
