Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 144435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 722(@200wpm)___ 578(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
“I have a right to ask questions.” She shoots me a mulish, mutinous look.
“And what happens if you ask the right questions to the wrong people?” I press. “What happens if you end up with the wrong attention on you? What do you do then?”
“I…” She trails off, her eyes narrowing as they crawl slowly across my face, carefully scrutinizing my expression. “You know something, don’t you?”
I grit my teeth, refusing to answer.
“You do!” she cries. “You know something about what happened to him, don’t you?”
“Raven.”
“Are you looking into it? Do you have a suspect?” she asks. “Do you think they might come after me? Is that why you don’t want me looking into it?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then why don’t you want me looking into it?”
“Because there are some things you can’t unknow, princess,” I say, dropping the top piece of bread onto my sandwich. I carry our plates across the kitchen, setting her plate in front of her. “There are some things that stay with you forever. When you look into a crime, the first thing you dig into is the victim. You cut into the heart of him and reveal all his secrets…the good, the bad, and the ugly. What you find alters your perception of the victim forever.”
“You think he had secrets.”
“Everyone has secrets, songbird.”
She swallows audibly, her expression troubled. She knows I’m right. Look at the two of us. We’ve been carrying our own secrets for the last three years, haven’t we? Desperately trying to hide them from the very man we now mourn.
“You know his secrets, don’t you?” she asks, watching my face intently.
I nod once, not lying to her.
“Are they…bad?”
“They aren’t good,” I admit.
Her face falls.
“Did…did they get him killed?”
“I can’t answer that.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
“I’m not sure yet,” I say. It’s the truth. I know enough to answer some of her questions, but not enough to answer all of them. Did Marnie kill him because of his secrets? Was it an accident like she claimed? Or did she have some other plan I haven’t yet unraveled? I want to believe it was an accident, but nothing makes sense. Why did she drag me into it? Why blackmail me into helping her cover it up? I’m missing something and I don’t know what.
“You don’t want to tell me.”
“He’s your father, songbird. I’m trying to protect you.”
“From what?” she asks, desperation in her voice. “I don’t understand, Rhys.”
“I know you don’t,” I sigh, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. It’s silky soft. “I need you to trust me, Raven. I know I’m asking for a lot right now, but trust that everything I’ve done and everything I’m doing is to protect you, your baby brother or sister, and Brant. I’ll do whatever I have to do to ensure you’re safe and taken care of. And I’ll do everything I can to ensure that whoever killed Brant pays for it.”
“Promise me,” she demands. “Promise you’ll make them pay for it.”
“I swear to you, even if I have to destroy myself to do it, there will be justice,” I vow, meaning every word. One way or another, Marnie will suffer the consequences for everything she’s done. I don’t care what it takes. As soon as she has that baby and I find a way to ensure Raven doesn’t lose everything, she’s done.
Raven scrutinizes my expression, searching out any little hint that I’m just telling her what she wants to hear to get her to give me what I want. When she doesn’t find it, she expels a slow breath. “Okay,” she reluctantly agrees. “I’ll let you handle it.”
Chapter Four
RAVEN
“Excuse me,” I say, leaning over the bar to get the attention of the middle-aged bartender.
“Be right with you, hon,” she says, not even glancing up from the long line of shot glasses set up in front of her. She grabs a bottle of tequila from beneath the bar and flips it upside down, quickly filling the glasses one by one. Somehow, she manages to do it without even spilling a drop.
It’s impressive. I would have poured it all over everything had I tried that. Then again, serving alcohol isn’t something I’ve ever done before. I’ve never drank much of it either. My schedule has always been so jam-packed that it never left a lot of room for going out or partying.
My whole life, I’ve wanted to sing. I’ve poured everything into it. And I’m good at it. Really good. Unfortunately, I’m not great at much else. I never had time to master anything outside of music. It’s worrisome. If Rhys can’t convince Marnie to let me finish school, I’m screwed. I’ll be a mostly trained vocalist with no real-world skills beyond teaching kids to sing.
The bartender places the shot glasses on a tray with a bowl of lemon wedges and lifts a hand, waving over a waitress. As soon as she’s sure the waitress is headed in her direction, she turns to me. Her brown eyes rake over me in a cursory assessment. If she recognizes me from any of the thousand news stories about my dad, she doesn’t react. Her heavily made-up face gives nothing away.