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He releases a long breath before lowering his head. “And now, do you understand my feelings on that asshole?”
“I always did.”
“Do you think he'll go through with it? The girl, I mean?” He glances at me over his shoulder, his eyebrow arched.
“I don't know, but I don't want any part of it. All I'm worried about is making sure it doesn't blow back on us, since he has no idea who he's fucking with. He'll only get so far on his family name.” Especially once word starts to spread of how unpredictable he is; nobody wants to do business with a loose cannon. Those types have a way of suddenly disappearing without a trace.
“I'm sorry I lost my cool.” He turns away from the window, still scowling, but his fists have loosened.
“That better be the last time I have to keep your brains from getting splattered across this room.”
“I'll make a note of it.” He rolls his head from side to side, shaking out the tension in his shoulders. “That ignorant kid.” An ignorant kid who got under his skin the way I've rarely seen anyone do.
I can't spend the rest of the morning talking about this. We need to get off the subject. “Didn't you say there was something you were planning on discussing this morning?”
His brows draw together in time with the pressing together of his lips. Not that I expected great news, but this doesn't bode well. “Right. It took some digging, but I got one of my contacts in the police department to draw up a list of people they knew were taking money on the side around the time Mrs. Cole was murdered.”
I'd think this would brighten his mood. We've been trying to get our hands on names for weeks. “And? Are we looking at a lot of names?”
“A considerable amount,” he tells me, pulling out his cell phone and handing the device to me. “Although there's one in particular I thought would interest you. I looked into all of them, and… it's him.”
The name might as well be written in bold print. It leaps out at me, carrying the sort of ramifications I hadn't considered until this very minute. My heart sinks as the enormity of the situation becomes clear.Ken Miller.“You're sure it's the Ken we know?”
“Positive. I wanted to be sure, so I did some internet searching. It's him.” The man her father trusts above all others. A crooked cop. The perverse part of me is almost gleeful, imagining how this would shatter the last of that sanctimonious asshole's illusions.
This isn't about him. Not entirely.
“We can't let her find out,” I murmur, handing the phone back.Why do I feel numb?“It would crush her.”
“Finding out her father's best friend was in on the take?” He sighs, shaking his head. “Damn right, it would. And you know Charlie can't find out about it. They're still friends.”
“Right.” No way the great white knight would stand for that. As soon as he confronts Ken, it would mark the end of him being useful to us. Hell, Charlie might blow his brains out–he's that unhinged.
“We don't know yet who was paying him, though, so we've got to keep that in mind.”
The thing about reaching my position is you don't get there without sharp instincts. Instincts can't be turned on and off at will, especially not when a man doesn't want to face reality.
I have to face the possibility of a time when the last of my little bird's illusions shatter. I hate to imagine being the one to shatter them—but it might be better coming from me, come to think of it.
Not yet, however. I need more information before I can do anything with this. “Let's dig deeper and find out who was paying him.”
“Will do.” Romero heads to his office while I sit back in my chair and rub my tired eyes, hoping for Bianca's sake that her mother's killer wasn't someone she was supposed to trust.
BIANCA
Ihonestly didn't think Callum would give me the space I needed. Sure, I asked for it. I physically removed myself from the bedroom. I've gone out of my way to avoid him—sneaking around the house when I know he's busy in his office, basically pulling a Tatum otherwise. I've done a lot of reading and caught up on a lot of shows that I've been meaning to binge. The nights are tough, especially since I've gotten used to sleeping next to him and being alone isn't easy. I doubt it's any easier on him.
It sort of gives me hope, in a way. He's not trying to push himself on me the way he would have done before. There's no begging or forcing. He's not chasing me through the house or seducing me--which I have never, ever been able to fight back against. It's like my Achilles heel, the sexual chemistry between us. Only he hasn't taken advantage of that.
I wish I could believe this means he's genuinely turned over a new leaf, but a big part of me can't help but be suspicious. Is this his way of yessing me to death? Playing along to keep me from walking away for good?
Thank you for being so understanding. I skim the rest of the email to make sure there are no typos, then send it off to my manager. The fact that I still have a job is a miracle. No, I don't really want it, but that doesn't mean I want to be a total jerk and no-call, no-show. This latest leave of absence would probably get anybody else fired, but everybody seems understanding.
If I didn't know better, I'd think Callum was behind all of this.
Wait. Who am I kidding? I don't know better. I'd bet he called somebody and fixed things for me. The more I think about it, the more obvious it looks. If I had any desire to speak to him right now, I'd march downstairs and tear him a new one for once again interfering where he wasn't invited.
The thing is, I have no desire to speak to him yet. It's been a week, and I still have nothing to say that wouldn't end things immediately. That's not what I want—out of everything, all the confusion and sadness, and even with the sense of betrayal still fresh, I still don't want us to come to an end. I can't live without him.
