Make Me Yours (Top Shelf Romance Book 4)

by Devney Perry

  A tear rolled down her cheek as she shook her head. “He didn’t kill anyone.”

  “Nina, he did. He’s going to jail for the rest of his life. If he’s lucky, they’ll give him two life sentences. He’ll spend the rest of his life in prison and that’s if he’s lucky enough to find a judge that won’t order lethal injection. Samuel is gone. He’s dead. Don’t end up in jail too. Tell me, where were you the day of the murder?”

  She cried harder, burying her face in her hands as her shoulders shook.

  I almost felt bad for the girl. Almost. Simmons was using the love for her boyfriend and some well-strung lies to break down her walls. He was capitalizing on her youth and the emotional stress of being trapped in a colorless room for hours. Simmons was using it all to push her over the edge.

  “Nina,” he said gently. “Just tell me what happened. I’ll do whatever I can to help you. Just . . . let it out. Tell me what happened.”

  She sobbed again, then dropped her hands. Her eyes were begging Simmons to understand. “Samuel didn’t kill them. Please, it wasn’t him.”

  Simmons waited, stretching the silence out until it was nearly unbearable, until finally, Nina whispered, “It was me.”

  The words came out of her mouth and rang in the air as guilt and relief and sorrow washed over Nina’s face.

  Maybe she’d been wanting to confess. Maybe she had been tired of keeping it in. Whatever the reason, there was no doubting the truth in her voice.

  Nina Veras had killed Jamie Maysen and Kennedy Hastings.

  I fell back into my chair, shocked to my core.

  Simmons had done it. He’d been the key to breaking this case all along.

  I’d been holding out hope, praying that we’d be granted a miracle. I’d wished that this day would come. But I’d never actually thought it would happen. I’d never thought about how I’d feel in this moment.

  I was relieved. I was grateful. But it was painful too.

  I hurt. For Jamie. For Kennedy. For Poppy. My heart hurt now that we’d learned the truth.

  That a seventeen-year-old girl had killed two people.

  “He did it,” Matt whispered. “Holy fucking shit, he did it.”

  Simmons reached across the table and took Nina’s hand as she cried. “Okay, Nina. Tell me what happened.”

  Over the next thirty minutes, Matt and I sat and watched as Nina Veras gave a complete confession to the liquor store murder.

  As Matt had suspected, her involvement with Samuel had been the motive. The couple had just moved to Montana from Los Angeles, where Samuel had been a long-standing member of the Bloods. He’d been sent here to branch out, to make money and start a new crew for the gang.

  And part of his crew was a girlfriend willing to do whatever he’d asked, no questions.

  So Samuel had sent Nina into the liquor store with a gun and clear orders. Get the money from the register. If anyone refuses or puts up a fight, kill ’em.

  It had been her test.

  Nina swore up and down that the first shot had been an accident. That she hadn’t wanted to kill anyone, but the gun had gone off in her shaking hands. Maybe that was true for the first shot. But twice? I wasn’t buying it. I think she’d panicked and killed Kennedy to save herself—not that my opinion mattered.

  A judge and jury would decide her fate.

  “I can’t believe all this.” Matt shook his head. “We should have found her in the bathroom.”

  “Yeah.” I scoffed. “We should have.”

  After she’d run out of the liquor store, Nina had disappeared behind the shopping complex. She’d stripped out of her sweatshirt and baseball hat and, just as I’d suspected, snuck into the loading dock at the grocery store.

  She’d hidden in a cabinet under the sink in the women’s bathroom—a place very few men would fit, which is likely why no one had checked. She’d stayed hidden for two hours, only to come out when Samuel had texted her that the police had finished sweeping the grocery store.

  Samuel—that fucker—had been sitting in the parking lot the whole time.

  He’d come inside the grocery store, snatched a couple of plastic bags, then snuck into the bathroom. Then the pair had carried Nina’s disguise and gun through the front doors like they’d just bought steaks for dinner.

  Being so young, I had dismissed Nina when I’d seen her on the video footage. Just like all of the cops had done that day as they’d watched the young couple walk to their black car and drive away.

  Leaving ruined lives in their wake.

  “How am I going to tell Poppy all of this?”

  “I don’t know.” Matt stood from his chair. “But it’s good that you can be the one to break the news.”

  I followed Matt out of observation to the hallway but stopped as the door to interrogation opened. With Simmons gesturing her through the door, Nina stepped into the hallway. Her eyes were aimed at her feet, but when she saw Matt and me, she looked up. Then with one hand, she brushed her hair back, holding it out of her eyes.

  For the first time, I got a full view of her face. A face I recognized after all. A face I knew from years ago.

  My feet faltered and my shoulder crashed into the wall.

  Time slowed as Nina stared at me, recognition dawning on her face at the same time it did on mine. She held my eyes, unblinking, until Simmons shuffled her along, down the hallway to process her arrest.

  No. No, it couldn’t be her. Nina Veras couldn’t be the young girl I’d caught six years ago one night on patrol. It couldn’t be her.

  Except it was.

  “Please. Please, Officer, please.” The girl clung to my arm. “Please don’t arrest me. I promise, I’ll never do something like this again.”

  “Look, kid. I’m sorry. But you and your friends were vandalizing private property. Graffiti is illegal, even if that building is condemned. I can’t let you go.” Especially because she was the only one of her gang that I’d managed to snatch.

  “No.” Her eyes begged me as she spoke. “I swear. I wasn’t even painting. Look.” She held up her fingers, all of which were clean.

  “Then you won’t get in much trouble. Let’s go.” I took her elbow and started walking her back to my car.

  “Please.” She was tall, probably five ten or eleven, so she kept up with my steps as she kept pleading. “I’m only sixteen. If you take me in, they’ll send me back to California. But I can’t go back. I can’t. My mom’s boyfriend . . .” She stopped her feet, tugging my arms so I stopped too. “Please. I can’t go back to live with him.” With her free hand, she lifted the long, dark hair off the nape of her neck, revealing a cluster of six cigarette burns shining under the streetlamp.

  Fuck. This girl might be playing me, but the tears in her eyes and the torment on her face looked like the truth.

  “You’re sixteen?”

  She nodded.

  “How did you get to Montana?”

  “I came with my boyfriend. He’s twenty-one and we moved here together. But my dad lives here, he just doesn’t have official custody.”

  “And was this boyfriend one of the punks who was vandalizing that wall?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  My eyes narrowed at her lie. “Really?”

  “I won’t do it again,” she whispered. “Please.”

  I let her arm go and took a deep breath. Without a trace on her hands, I couldn’t prove she’d been spray-painting. All I could show was that she was with the crowd, which meant she’d probably get a slap on the wrist and a one-way ticket to California from social services. So instead of dragging her to my cruiser, I put one finger in her face. “This is your once. Your one chance. If I catch you again, I’ll drive your ass to California myself.”

  “Thank you.” She threw her arms around my middle. “Thank you.” The second she let me go, she turned and ran in the opposite direction.

  “Be good!” I called to her back.

  “I will!” She waved and disappeared around
the corner.

  “Cole.” Matt put his hand on my shoulder. “Cole, are you okay?”

  I watched as Simmons steered Nina Veras down the hallway. When they were out of sight, I shook my head, sinking to the floor as the world tipped upside down.

  If not for me, Nina Veras would have gone back to California.

  She would have been in the system. She would have been a thousand miles away from the liquor store and Samuel Long.

  And Poppy’s husband would be alive.

  50th Birthday: Change someone’s life

  Cole

  Three days later . . .

  The shrill ring of my alarm sent blinding pain through my skull. I buried my face in the pillow as I hammered my fist on the nightstand, missing the alarm the first time but smashing it silent with the second. Then I covered my head with another pillow—Poppy’s pillow—and willed the pounding in my temples to stop.

  “Fuck,” I groaned as it just got worse.

  I couldn’t gripe. I’d earned this hangover. For everything that I’d done, this was just a fraction of the punishment I deserved.

  It had been three days since I’d gone to Poppy’s house and told her the news. Three days since I’d sat by her side on that single porch step and explained it all. How Nina Veras had killed Jamie. How she’d eluded the police and escaped. How the only reason she’d even been in Montana was because I’d been too much of a pushover to send her ass back to California.

  How the loss of Poppy’s husband had been my fault.

  She had stayed silent as I made the confession. She’d sat like stone, staring blankly at her front yard. The only movement came from her shallow breaths and the tears streaming down her face as I broke her heart. Only after I’d been done, after we’d sat in excruciating silence for an hour, had she finally asked me to leave.

  Driving home that night, I knew I’d lost her.

  I’d texted her the next day, just to check in, but hadn’t gotten much of a response. I’m fine. Just busy. I’ll call soon.

  Busy.

  I’m sure she’d been busy. Busy telling her family and Jamie’s the news of the investigation. Busy blocking me from her mind.

  So I’d spent the last three days locked in my house, waiting for the phone to ring, mourning the best thing I’d ever had and lost.

  The bourbon I’d guzzled last night hadn’t helped. My heart was still in pieces—the ache in my chest just another fucking bonus to go along with my splitting headache.

  “Cole!” Dad’s shout carried up the stairs.

  Goddamn it. I never should have given him my house key. The last thing I wanted was to see Dad. To see the disappointment etched on his face too. I didn’t need a fucking audience as my life spiraled out of control. Couldn’t I just be left to suffer alone?

  “Cole!”

  I guess not.

  Whipping the sheet off my legs, I pushed myself to sitting. The room was spinning as fast as my stomach, but I swallowed down my urge to hurl and stood. On unsteady feet, I shuffled my way out of my bedroom and down the hall.

  “Cole! Get your ass down here!”

  “I’m coming,” I yelled as loud as my head and raspy voice would allow. “Just give me a fucking second.”

  Every step throbbed behind my eyes—the light from the windows only making it worse. By the time I made it downstairs, I walked straight to the couch and collapsed so I wouldn’t puke or pass out. “What are you doing here?”

  Dad sighed and sat on the coffee table. “Matt Hernandez called me this morning. He’s been trying to get ahold of you since last night but kept getting voicemail.”

  Shit. Where was my phone? It must have died sometime in the evening and I’d been too drunk to notice. Had Poppy tried to call?

  “What did Matt want?”

  “Just to check in.”

  “Did he . . .”

  “Tell me you found Jamie Maysen’s killer on Friday? Yeah.”

  I grunted. I didn’t have the energy to rehash the story again and I was sure Matt had told him all about Nina Veras. “So?”

  “So, I got the story from Matt.” He paused. “And then I went to her house and got the rest from Poppy.”

  My eyes flew open as I sat up straight. “You saw her? Is she okay?”

  It was New Year’s Day—Jamie’s birthday—and I couldn’t imagine today would be easier on her. I hated that I wasn’t by her side, but the last thing I wanted was my presence making things worse.

  “She’s okay. Sad, as to be expected.”

  I slumped back into the couch and stared at the ceiling. All that time I’d been working so hard to make Poppy happy. If only I had known that the best thing I could have done for her was to stay away.

  “Cole, look at me.” Dad’s eyes softened with his voice. “There’s only one person to blame for that murder. It’s not you.”

  I shook my head. “No. No, it is my fault.”

  “Bullshit.” His bark made me wince. “We all give warnings. Every single cop in America has given a warning. Whether it be a speeding ticket to a soccer mom. A college kid that’s had too much to drink. Or a girl who was spray-painting an old wall that has since been torn down. If you’re to blame, then you might as well condemn the rest of us too.”

  I sighed and hung my head. “Poppy lost her husband. I could have prevented that.”

  “I just don’t believe that’s true, and if you would stop to think about it for a minute, you probably wouldn’t either. There’s no guarantee that girl ever would have been sent away. And even if she had been shipped back to California, all it would have taken was a bus ticket to get her back. The only person to blame for that murder is her. Are you hearing me? Her. Not you.”

  My throat started to close. “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is Poppy, and I lost her.”

  “Then go find her.”

  Without another word, Dad stood and let himself out. He left through the front door, but his words stayed, echoing in my living room.

  Then go find her.

  She’d asked me to leave. She hadn’t called. She wouldn’t want me around. Would she? As the question went unanswered, I pushed myself off the couch and shuffled into the kitchen. Dad’s words were still ringing in my ears.

  Then go find her.

  I filled a glass of water, chugging it down along with three pain pills.

  I wanted to see her, but the truth was, I was scared. I hadn’t stayed away because of some text. I’d stayed away because of my own insecurities—my own jealousy. I’d assumed she was still so in love with Jamie that she’d never see past this horrible coincidence. That she’d never forgive me.

  When in reality, I hadn’t given her enough faith.

  Poppy had enough love for us both.

  Then go find her.

  Maybe things really were that simple.

  I put my glass in the sink, ignoring the pain in my temples, and jogged to the stairs. Heading straight for the bathroom, I didn’t wait for the water to warm up before I stepped inside the shower. Then I washed away the booze and self-loathing, stepping out clean and ready to find Poppy.

  There was no guarantee that she’d forgive me. No guarantee that we’d make it through this together. But I was going to find her and find out. I wasn’t going to let my own issues keep me away for another moment.

  I drove to the restaurant first, but since her car wasn’t there, I flipped my truck around and went the opposite direction toward her house. A new For Sale sign was in the yard with a Sold placard already slanted across its front.

  What the fuck? She’d sold her house already? I’d been here three days ago and it hadn’t even been listed.

  I parked in front of her garage and went to her door, knocking but not expecting an answer. Every window was dark, and inside, I could only see empty rooms. Where was she? Where were her things?

  My hand dove into my pocket for my phone. “Shit,” I muttered when it came out empty.

  I didn’t have my phone. It was dead somew
here in my house.

  Cursing myself for getting so drunk last night, I raced back toward my house, mentally drafting my apology speech once I got my phone charged.

  I pulled up to my house, hitting the remote for the garage, but did a double take when I noticed the porch.

  Two white rocking chairs—chairs Poppy had sworn she was going to buy after moving in—were placed perfectly in front of the railing.

  She’d been here? I scanned the street, looking for her car, but it wasn’t here. Which meant we’d crossed paths. While I’d been searching for her, she’d been here. But why had she left?

  Not wasting time by parking in the garage, I left my truck in the driveway and hustled across the snow-covered yard, taking the porch steps two at a time. But the moment my foot landed at the top, I froze.

  Leaned against the front door were two books. One I’d never seen before. One I had. It was Jamie Maysen’s journal for his birthday list. And on top of both books was a letter with my name curled in Poppy’s fancy handwriting.

  I picked up both books and the letter, not bothering to go inside and get out of the cold, then sat in one of the rocking chairs and started with the letter.

  Cole,

  Exactly one year ago, I decided to finish Jamie’s birthday list. I was standing in the kitchen at my house and taking a selfie. That’s how this all started. One selfie of me crying in front of a chocolate birthday cake.

  I wish I could go back to that day, not to erase this last year, but to tell myself to hold on. To tell myself to keep breathing, because pretty soon, someone special would come into my life and make it easier. I’d tell myself not to cry, because he’d be there to help me finish the birthday list. He’d hold my hand when I needed to borrow some strength. He’d let me cry into his shirt when I couldn’t hold back the tears. He’d make it easy to fall in love again.

  Because I do. I love you, Cole. I can prove it too. Do me a favor. Put this letter down and look at the big book. And don’t just flip through it. Really stop and look.