Page 417 of Good Boys Don’t Bite

“Elliot did.”

Of course. Ronan closed his eyes.

“Fucking Elliot.”

Bell’s mouth twitched.

“He was attempting to protect you.”

“He needs a hobby.”

“He had one.”

Ronan stared. Bell realized.

“Poor wording.”

“Very.”

A buzzer sounded. The locked door opened. Ronan forgot Bell existed. Elliot appeared beside a corrections officer. Gray facility clothes. No cuffs. No mask. No expensive sweater. No carefully chosen college-boy outfit. Just Elliot. His hair was messy. Dark circles beneath his eyes. Bruise still visible around his throat. And the second he saw Ronan, something changed in his face. Relief. So immediate Ronan felt it in his chest. Elliot tried to hide it. Failed. Good. The officer pointed toward another door.

“Visitation room two.”

Ronan moved. Bell caught his shoulder.

“Thirty minutes.”

“Yeah.”

“And Ronan?”

He turned.

“Do not discuss evidence.”

Ronan stared.

“What exactly are we supposed to discuss?”

Bell looked toward Elliot.

“Anything normal.”

Ronan almost laughed. Wrong couple for that. The visitation room contained one table and two chairs. No glass divider. Better than Ronan expected. An officer remained outside the window in the door. Worse. Elliot sat first. Ronan sat opposite him. Three feet. Too far. For several seconds, neither spoke. Ronan looked at him. Elliot looked back. Then:

“You came.”

Ronan’s chest tightened.

“Yeah.”

“I knew you would.”

“Liar.”

Elliot smiled faintly.

“I hoped.”