Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58408 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58408 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
When he is certain I am mostly rinsed clean, he flicks the shower off, throws a towel around my body, and scoops me up, carrying me straight to the bed. He doesn’t bother with pajamas, just shoves me under the blankets and crawls in after, curling around me like something desperate.
“You gotta sleep, darlin’.”
I choke out a laugh, bitter and hoarse. “I don’t think I’m ever going to sleep again.”
He grunts in agreement.
His arms stay around me, banded so tight I can barely move, but I don’t care. For the first time in what feels like hours, my heart slows, just a little. His breathing is steady, deep, and after a while, I realize mine has matched it.
In the dark, with only the hum of Knox’s breathing and the distant echo of our shattered lives below, I finally slip under. No dreams. No nightmares. Just the comfort of him, and a bone-deep, soul-shaking grief that—for tonight at least—doesn’t have to be faced alone.
Tomorrow is a new day.
18
“Can you tell me how you knew Ralston Cupp?”
A police officer sits across from me, the room stark and empty, only a camera in the corner. He is middle-aged, already balding, but he has a friendly face and so far, he has been kind. I knew this was coming, after all, the explosion was on my farm.
Questions will be asked.
“My uncle passed away and left everything to me,” I say, as rehearsed. “I came into town to fix up the house and sell it. Honestly, I didn’t know anyone and Ralston came by, he told me that he could sort the cattle sales out for me and I agreed. I had no idea who he was.”
The officer nods, Peter, I think his name is.
I can’t remember what he told me.
My brain is an empty, screaming mess right now.
“Tell me how he managed to set up an entire meth lab in your barn.”
“I didn’t go down there,” I shrug, calmly. “I know that sounds crazy, but the first day I arrived, I went in and a cow just about killed me. I wasn’t stepping foot down there again. He told me he would fix the barn, the fences and then sell the cattle for me. His men were in and out all day, and he had it locked up, but I didn’t question it. Why would I?”
“Did you know he was running an illegal business through your uncle’s books?”
“No. I didn’t. As I said, I came back to fix the place up. I hadn’t gotten into that side of things yet. I had only signed paperwork with the lawyer a couple of days before. She was going to send me everything.”
“Did you know Harper was working with him?”
I shake my head, my eyes burning. “Not until my brother got out of prison and told me everything. I didn’t...we were so close and she never told me.”
That’s not a lie.
She didn’t.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
At least he acknowledges that.
I offer him a weak smile.
“And the Fallen Sons MC?” he asks, almost gently. “What’s your connection?”
I let out a shaky sigh. “I know Knox. He was in a relationship with Harper until she died. She’s the only reason I know of the club. Beyond that—” I spread my hands, palms up, “I barely know them. They were helping me around the property, fixing things. That’s all.”
He taps his pen. “No other reason for them to be on your farm?”
“None,” I say, flinching at how hollow the word sounds. “They were just there to help me. Nothing else.”
He jots this down, mouth pinched, like he wants to say more but isn’t sure if I can take it. “And you never saw anyone from the club interact with Ralston or his men?”
“Never,” I answer.
He flips a page and rubs his forehead. “I can’t tell you much until the investigation is underway, but you should stay somewhere else for the time being. The farm’s a crime scene. No one goes back till we finish clean-up and forensics.”
I nod. The words sting, but I see the logic. “How—” I swallow, force my throat to work again. “How many people were there?”
He clears his throat. “The explosion did a number. I am not certain we will get a clear idea of how many men were there that day, there is very little left.”
The truth drops like a stone in my gut.
I try to thank him, but it comes out as a cough. He gives me a bottled water from the break room and shows me to the side exit, away from the main lobby, away from the cluster of bored reporters waiting for a story.
When I step outside, the sun is disappearing into dusk, painting the parking lot in orange and blue. I walk a dozen shaky steps before I see the bike at the far end of the lot. Knox leans against it, helmet tucked under one arm. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days, jaw dusted with stubble, grief lacing his features.