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“Well, they’re trying to, Imogen.”
I closed my eyes. “They won’t because I killed Kent.” I opened my eyes, and a tear streaked down my cheek. “And that’s what I’ll tell the police.”
“No, Imogen,” he thundered. “You are not going down for this, so I don’t.”
“But you didn’t kill Kent,” I insisted. “I killed him.”
“You killed him because he fucking raped you, Imogen. He deserved exactly what you gave him.”
“You’re right, Mace. He deserved whatIgave him, not you. You are not going to prison for something I did.” I shot up from the chair and snatched my purse off the hook by the front door. Mace was not going to go down for what I did.
“God dammit, Imogen,” he cursed.
I bent over to grab my shoes but levitated off the ground before slipping them on. “What are you doing?” I screamed.
Mace’s arms were wrapped around my waist, and he tossed me on the couch. “Keeping you from making a huge mistake,” he spat. “What the hell do you think you are going to do?” he demanded. “You don’t know anything, but you’re going to march out of here?”
“You told me they are trying to charge you with Kent’s murder. That is all I need to know.” I struggled to get off the couch, but he leaned over me and pinned my arms to the back of the couch. “This is why you came here. I’m going to help you.” I could repay him for what he did for me fifteen years ago. I, of course, didn’t want to go to prison for killing Kent, but I absolutely did not want Mace to go down for it, either.
“I did come here for your help, but not the kind of help you are trying to give me.”
I stopped struggling and looked up at him. “What other help can I give you?” I spat.
“Talk to my lawyer. Tell her what happened. If we both have the same story, that is better than just me saying I didn’t do it.”
I shook my head. “No one is going to care about my why for killing Kent. They are only going to care about me killing him.”
“You killed him because he raped you and then was going to kill you, Imogen. It wasn’t like you were just walking down the street and killing an innocent man because you were bored.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re right, but that isn’t going to happen.”
“Right now, you aren’t connected to his murder at all, Imogen. They are only coming after me because they found my fingerprint on the asshole's shoe. That is the only thing they have on me.”
“Well,” I drawled, “I’m not a lawyer or anything, but I have watched enough true crime shows to know they can more than convict you with that one fingerprint, Mace.”
“I have a plan, Imogen.”
“A plan?” I growled. “You have the plan to get you out of being convicted of murder?”
“Yeah, I do, but I’m gonna need you to stop talking for two minutes.” He shook his head and stared at me. “Just let me talk without you arguing with everything I say, yeah?”
“I’m not arguing,” I insisted. “I’m just trying to… Well, I don’t know what I’m doing because I’m still shocked this is happening after fifteen years.” I tipped my head to the side. “Why is this happening after fifteen years? Shouldn’t this have happened fifteen years ago?”
“Imogen,” he growled. “Just stop talking and let me talk. I will answer all of your questions. Deal?”
I sighed heavily and relaxed my arms. “Fine, talk.”
*
Chapter Seven
Mace
“They are coming after me because they allegedly found my fingerprint on Kent’s shoe.”
“But why did they just find the fingerprint?” she interrupted.
“Babe,” I grunted. “Just let me talk, and save your questions for the end, yeah?”
