by Jane Henry
“They sure as hell do if you make them mad enough,” I retorted. Then I gave in to the impulse that had been riding me since we stepped into the kitchen and kicked his shin. Hard.
He gave a gasp of surprise, and I enjoyed a single, beautiful moment of gratification… before my poor toes screamed in outrage and I learned another painful lesson courtesy of Ethan Warner. Never, never kick a man’s rock-hard shin with your too-small, pointy-toed, patent leather shoes.
I blamed Ethan for this, too.
Tears sprang to my eyes, but I held them back. In fact, I doubled-down, ready to kick him again. But he stepped closer at the last minute and wrapped his leg around mine, forcing my foot off the floor and removing my leverage. He looked down at me, and his expression morphed from anger to concern when he saw the tears in my eyes.
“Enough!” he said. “Jesus, Haven. Enough. You hurt yourself, didn’t you? I won’t let you hurt yourself, even to hurt me.”
I struggled against his hold. “That’s not for you to decide, Ethan!” Not now. Not ever again.
He grabbed my chin roughly, forcing me to look at him. His red-brown hair had fallen down over his forehead in our tussle, and some stupid, stupid part of me wanted to push it back.
Christ, I was an idiot.
“You have no reason to trust me, I get it. I’m an asshole, I get that too. And I hurt you. I’ve known that for a long time, but I’m not the man I used to be, and I...” He shook his head. “You know what? I’m not even going to say I’m sorry. Because that would be worthless to you right now, and I know it. But I’ll make it up to you. I will. I’ll give your parents back every penny they lost and then some.”
“Every penny you took,” I corrected him. “They didn’t lose it, Ethan. You took it.” And he’d taken even more than that – my trust, my faith, my innocence – things that could never be redeemed.
“I did. Yes, God, I know I did. And I don’t expect you to believe that I’ve changed. But work with me on this. Work with the Masters. And when this is done…” He looked me in the eye. “When this is done, I will apologize to you, I will make restitution to everyone I stole from…and then if it still means nothing to you, you can turn me in.”
I huffed out a laugh and wrenched my chin from his grip. I didn’t believe for a single second that he’d do any of the things he said, but I’d already decided I’d go along with the Masters, for Max’s sake. And I would decide when I was ready to turn him in.
“Fine,” I lied. “I agree to your terms.” After all, I told myself, animals are less inclined to bite when they’re not cornered.
He inhaled sharply, stepping away from me. “We should probably come up with a story,” he said. “The others are going to get that we have a history.”
I shook my head in disgust. “You tell them whatever you want to tell them. You’re the expert liar, after all.”
He nodded once, and we made our way back to the library. I refused to let him help me, even though every step was painful.
The others were all stationed exactly as we had left them, and all eyes turned our way when we walked in the room. It seemed like most of the glances my way were curious, while those aimed at Ethan were decidedly annoyed. They wanted to know the connection between us, of course.
Good. He could spin them whatever tale he wanted, but I wouldn’t help him.
“You’re all… refreshed?” Walker asked as I took my seat. There was real concern in his dark eyes, partially obscured by the swath of hair that fell on his brow.
“Oh, yeah. I’m doing just peachy,” I said with a smile. I had no idea who any of these guys were, really, or why they’d associate with a man like Ethan, but I appreciated Walker’s kindness.
My eyes strayed up to where Ethan had perched on the arm of the sofa next to Walker, arms folded over his chest. He wasn’t bothering with his friendly, innocent act anymore, and he positively glowered at me and, weirdly, down at Walker.
That honest, unscripted emotion sent a thrill through me, and I thought back to the way he’d pinned me against the refrigerator.
“You were about to tell us what you know about Max Pederson,” Xavier reminded me solicitously, his eyes sharply moving from me to Ethan. He called the shots here, it seemed.
“Right. Of course.”
Jesus, Haven, smarten up. Ethan Warner is your enemy.
I cleared my throat and channeled my lingering anger into a cogent recitation. “I’ll tell you everything he’s authorized me to tell you. You probably know from the media that Emma Pederson was found shot to death in the Pedersons’ apartment just over a month ago. It was their housekeeper, Gwendolyn’s, evening off, and according to Mr. Pederson, his wife was supposed to be having a spa night with some of her friends. He returned home from a late business dinner around ten o’clock, and went directly to his office, where he drank whiskey and watched videos, as he did every night. He didn’t wonder where his wife was since they weren’t on speaking terms at that time. He fell asleep on the couch in his office, which he says was not unusual for him, and didn’t wake up until early the next morning, when he heard Gwendolyn screaming for someone to get an ambulance.”
Xavier frowned. “But Emma Pederson was already dead then.”
I nodded. “For several hours. But Gwendolyn didn’t know that.”
“What evidence do they have against Mr. Pederson?” Caelan asked, leaning forward. I noticed his empty tea cup had been placed neatly on the table – on a coaster, no less – and there was something so sweet about that, I couldn’t help but give him a friendly smile.
“I won’t lie,” I said. “They’ve got a lot. The Pedersons’ security shows no one leaving or entering the apartment from the time Max came home until Gwendolyn got back from an overnight visit to her sister on Long Island. Anyone else would have had to be inside the house with Emma Pederson before her husband came home. The investigators think that’s highly unlikely. So Max is the only suspect with opportunity. And as for motive, Max had recently found out his wife was having an affair with a criminal named Robby Fletcher.”
Several looks were exchanged around the room, and no one seemed surprised.
“Go on,” Ethan prompted. “Who else have they looked at?”
“No one. Well, Fletcher might have been a suspect, but he was sent to jail on Federal weapons charges just a week before Mrs. Pederson’s death, so we know he wasn’t involved. And, to make matters worse, Mr. Pederson had also spoken to many friends about having consulted his attorney to move forward with divorce proceedings against her.”
“Yeah, but if he was divorcing her, why would he have killed her? He’d known about the affair for a while,” Sabrina said, widening her eyes significantly. “This was no crime of passion.”
“Money,” I told her simply. “The fact is, Mr. Pederson did begin divorce proceedings in a fit of anger after learning about the affair. But their prenup agreement didn’t have a cheating clause.”
“That was stupid,” Ethan remarked, and I had to agree.
“More like criminally irresponsible, given that he was a lawyer, himself. But then, we’re all fools for love, aren’t we?” I asked sweetly.
Ethan held my glance for a moment before I collected myself and continued.
“Unfortunately for Mr. Pederson, he’d made some long-term investments over the past year. It would have been extremely difficult – not impossible, mind you, but difficult - for him to liquidate his assets and get cash together quickly. It might have required selling off his business.”
Caelan whistled through his teeth. “That’s a heck of a motive.”
“It is. If I were prosecuting this case, I’d have opened a bottle of champagne already,” I said glumly. And then I told them the kicker. “When he ran out of his office that morning at Gwendolyn’s scream, his hands were covered in blood. His wife’s blood. And his prints were found on the murder weapon.”
“What?” Sabrina’s eyes were wide, and she looked to Anson for confirmation. �
�His prints? Were on the gun?”
Anson wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder, but he turned to me. “So, what the hell makes you think he didn’t do it? I hate to think it about the guy, but the physical evidence, the motive, they all point to him.”
“They do,” I sighed. “But I believe he’s telling the truth. And you can trust me when I tell you, I’m pretty hard to fool these days.”
I didn’t glance at Ethan, but I hoped he knew my words were directed at him.
Xavier studied me for a second, like he was assessing the truth of my statement, but I didn’t flinch. I got the sense that he would be nearly impossible to manipulate, himself. Finally, he nodded.
“I believe that you believe that,” he said. “But…”
“But it’s not enough to go on,” I said. “I know. There’s more. Do you believe in conspiracies?”
Once again, they all exchanged looks, and a frisson of awareness passed through the group, but Walker was the one to break the silence.
“Oh, Haven. Honey. You have no idea,” he said. “Spill the tea.”
I blinked, then arched one eyebrow. Walker kind of guy my mom would call a rascal – cute and devious, sexy and sweet, all at the same time. I found myself warming to him even more. “The tea? Did you hear that term in the dark realm?”
Anson hooted appreciatively, and Caelan grinned. Walker’s eyes crinkled at the corners, and his eyes lit with genuine humor as he admitted, “Nah. YouTube.”
I found myself laughing, despite the seriousness of the topic, then I sighed as I caught Ethan’s scowl. Did he not like me laughing with his friends? Did he feel left out, since he’d missed the joke? Too damn bad. The laughs in my life were few and far between these days.
“Max Pederson has had not one, but three attempts on his life while in prison.” I looked around the circle and found all traces of merriment had disappeared. “Most recently, a couple of men were able to get into his cell while he slept, and if his cellmate hadn’t woken up and scared them off, he’d already be dead. Neither of the men involved have been caught, because they threatened to kill his cellmate’s family if Luis identified them.” I looked around the circle. “Given that they had enough pull to get into Max’s locked cell, it’s no wonder Luis believed they have enough connections to pull strings on the outside.”
“Luis?” Walker asked.
“Luis Rivera,” I confirmed. “The cellmate.”
Walker began typing on his tablet. “I’m running a check now.”
“Luis has a daughter and a mother at home,” I told them. “He’s petrified. He told Max the men involved were somehow connected to the people who got him sent down for a rape he didn’t commit.”
“Lots of innocent men in this prison of yours,” Ethan remarked. “God save us from do-good reformers.”
Caelan reached over and thumped him on the knee, like a sign of solidarity, and Ethan gave him a sad smile. I was dying to know what that whole exchange was about and frustrated beyond belief that I didn’t even know who I could trust to tell me.
“Bonneville is not my prison,” I replied shortly. “And I don’t know Luis from Adam. But you’d be surprised how often it happens. Especially when you get on someone’s bad side.”
“Once again,” Walker said grimly. “You have no idea how hard we can understand that.”
I frowned, but before I could follow up, Xavier interrupted me. “Did this Luis person identify the people who set him up?”
“Nope. And I’ve never talked to him. I’m not his attorney, so it’s beyond my purview,” I said. I hesitated for a second. “I offered to represent him. After Max told me all of this, I told him to tell Luis that I’d take his case pro bono. I mean, if Luis could give me all this information on the record, I could start looking into it. But Luis flew off the handle. Was pissed Max had even mentioned this to me. Said something about how the last guy he trusted had gotten killed, and he didn’t want another soul on his conscience, or something.”
“His last attorney got killed?” Ethan was sitting up straight now and looking at me with a fire in his eyes I didn’t know how to interpret. “And you’re volunteering as tribute? No fucking way are you hoisting yourself into that mess.”
“Yeah? Says who?” I demanded.
Ethan crossed his arms again. “Me.” He looked around the group and added after a pause, “And every sane person in this room.”
I looked at Caelan, and he shrugged sheepishly. “He’s right. It definitely wouldn’t be my first choice.”
I grimaced at this betrayal from my newfound friend.
“In any case, it wasn’t his attorney who got killed, it was a guard, if you can believe it.” I shrugged. “I mean, in my experience, prison guards aren’t particularly sensitive to inmates’ sob stories, but apparently this guard believed Luis. Claimed he had connections and would check things out quietly. He died before he got anything, though. And I don’t even know if he started to search.”
“A guard?” Ethan demanded in a fierce whisper, and I blinked. I’d never heard him – or anyone – use quite that tone of voice in my life, like he was broken-hearted and hopeful all at once. “At Bonneville? What was his name?”
At this, the entire room seemed to be holding its breath, every eye focused on me.
“The-the guard, you mean? I don’t remember,” I stammered, shaking my head. I had no idea what was going on, but this suddenly seemed to be of the utmost importance right now. “I’ll check my notes, but I don’t think Max ever said.”
I grabbed a folder from my briefcase and started sorting through the papers. “It might all have been a coincidence, anyway,” I blathered on to fill the utter and complete silence. “Max thinks Luis might be connecting dots that shouldn’t be connected because he’s scared, you know? I mean, the guard wasn’t murdered, he was killed in a prison riot a few months back.”
Sabrina made a little, distressed noise, but I ignored her, skimming the pages in front of me. “Oh! Wait! It is here. His name was…”
Oh, fuck. Oh, fuckity fuck.
I looked up at Ethan, at those summer-blue eyes now wide with grief and anger. No matter what had happened between us, no matter how badly he’d hurt me or how much I’d thought I wanted to hurt him, I’d have given anything not to deliver this blow.
“His name was Warner,” I whispered. “Eli Warner.”
About Jane Henry
USA Today bestselling author Jane Henry pens stern but loving alpha heroes, feisty heroines, and emotion-driven happily-ever-afters. She writes what she loves to read: kink with a tender touch. Jane is a hopeless romantic who lives on the East Coast with a houseful of children and her very own Prince Charming.
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Connect with Jane:
Amazon author page
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www.janehenryromance.com
[email protected]
About Maisy Archer
Maisy Archer is a total book nerd who's been in love with romance since reading Julie Garwood at the tender age of 12. When she's not writing, she's into coffee, caramel, beach vacations, yoga pants, and spending time with her family.
She writes M/M romance as May Archer.
Connect with Maisy:
www.mayarcher.com
[email protected]
Other titles by Jane and Maisy
The Boston Doms
My Dom (Boston Doms Book 1)
His Submissive (Boston Doms Book 2)
Her Protector (Boston Doms Book 3)
His Babygirl (Boston Doms Book 4)
His Lady (Boston Doms Book 5)
Her Hero (Boston Doms Book 6)
My Redemption (Boston Doms Book 7)
Boston
Doms Boxed Set
Also by Jane Henry
Contemporary
NYC Doms
Deliverance (NYC Doms Book 1)
Safeguard (NYC Doms Book 2, out April of 2018)
The Billionaire Daddies Trilogy
Beauty’s Daddy: A Beauty and the Beast Adult Fairy Tale
Mafia Daddy: A Cinderella Adult Fairy Tale
Dungeon Daddy: A Rapunzel Adult Fairy Tale
Bound To You
Begin Again (Bound to You Book 1)
Come Back to Me (Bound to You Book 2)
Complete Me (Bound To You Book 3)
Bound to You (Boxed Set)
Black Light: Roulette Redux
Sunstrokes: Four Hot Tales of Punishment and Pleasure (Anthology)
A Thousand Yesses
Westerns
Her Outlaw Daddy
Claimed on the Frontier
Surrendered on the Frontier
Cowboy Daddies: Two Western Romances
Science Fiction
Aldric: A Sci-Fi Warrior Romance (Heroes of Avalere Book 1)
Idan: A Sci-Fi Warrior Romance (Heroes of Avalere Book 2)
