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“I told her not to trust you.” He gritted his jaw. “I warned her you were only using her. What do you want from her? Her money to fix up that shit pit you’ve inherited? I’ve been trying to protect her for years, and I won’t let anyone else take advantage of her the way that fucking arsehole did!”
All the alarm bells in my head went off at the same time.
Bit fucking late.
“It was you,” I said quietly, looking at him. “You killed Declan.”
Panic flashed in his eyes. “You didn’t know.”
“No, I didn’t know! What, you think I’m the habit of running to confront murderers?”
All right, so that’s exactly what I thought I was doing here, but he didn’t know that.
“This is a problem,” Shane said, pushing off the island to pace. “Fuck.”
Why was he so worried?
I was the one in the kitchen with a murderer.
“Does Steph know?” I asked.
Yeah, that was good.
Keep him talking. Preferably until Steph got back. Which would hopefully be soon.
Really soon.
“Does Steph know I killed her husband?” He laughed hollowly; a sound so cold that it made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
I hoped I’d never hear anything like it ever again.
“Of course, she doesn’t know,” he said, still pacing. “I had no choice. There was no other way out for her. He wasn’t letting her go. He said he loved her. Can you believe that? Like he fucking knew what love was.”
Oh, Christ.
How was I going to get out here?
I was stuck with a crazed madman.
“It was the only way!” He slammed his fist on the counter, leaning over it, and his chest heaved.
“You’re in love with her,” I said quietly. “That’s why you moved here.”
“Ever since college,” he ground out, looking coldly at me. “We lost contact when he convinced her to marry him. I told her back then not to do it. She was eighteen when they met, and he was forty. He was a creep.”
I couldn’t believe I agreed with a murderer.
“She cut me off after she married him, and I didn’t know where she was. I tried tracking her down but couldn’t. Why the fuck do you think I got these qualifications? I hate my job.” Shane stood up and ran his fingers through his hair. “It was to find her, then my mother books a fucking holiday and I run into her here, of all places.”
I was afraid to say anything.
What were my chances of grabbing my shit and running? I wasn’t the fastest, but I definitely had the stamina from my morning runs.
I had a good chance, didn’t I?
Yeah. I could totally outrun this angry, murderous man.
File that underThings Idiots Tell Themselves.
