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But the second I was in his arms, I knew he’d keep me safe.
I just knew.
Thankfully, as it turned out, I didn’t need him in the interview room because Katrina knew what she was doing. And as I was now realizing, that’s what she got paid for.
“Oh God, payment, right,” I rambled, shaking my head and pinching my eyes closed. “I can, um, I’ll—”
“Honey.” I blinked a couple of times before looking up at her. Her smile was warm and reassuring. “When a good man like you’ve got here offers to pay what a woman like me charges, they’re doing it because they want to look after you.”
Drake slipped his blazer off and stepped around behind me, helping me slip my arms into it before pulling it up over my shoulders and gently pressing his hand to the small of my back. The move instantly allowing me to breathe out the tension in my muscles, my shoulders slumping as I slowly exhaled.
“Thank you,” I told Katrina as Drake guided me out into the hall where the elevator was located. I noticed the guy with the tattoos on his neck hugged her before he followed us, the doors opening and the three of us stepping out.
“Cassie, this is Reed, a good friend of mine,” Drake introduced. “Katrina is his lawyer.”
“Heard a lot about you,” Reed answered with a grin, a very knowing one I probably would’ve blushed at had I not been so exhausted—or just killed a man.
I tried to force a smile, but I was pretty sure it came out as more of a grimace, though. “It’s nice to meet you,” I croaked, reaching for my throat.
Drake’s hand was at my back once again when the doors slid open. “We’re gonna take you to the hospit—”
“You murdering fucking bitch!”
I sucked in a sharp breath.
It hurt like hell but not as much as when I looked up and saw Emmett, Brian’s brother, standing at the other end of the hall with two police officers fighting to hold him back. They looked so alike that for a second, I wondered if it was Brian coming back to haunt me.
That maybe I was in my own version of hell where I could never escape him.
“You should be in prison,” Emmett screamed, swinging his fist and connecting with one of the officers, giving him enough time to push past the other and race toward me. He was still wearing his work overalls just like Brian had been—no doubt he’d have been the first point of contact when the cops showed up, and he would have driven straight here. His steps pounded down the hallway, every single one I could feel vibrate through me. “I’m gonna make sure you pay for this, Cassidy.”
I fought my best to keep my breathing slow and steady, though it was suddenly extremely hard with what felt like a wave of hatred and guilt hitting me square in the chest.
“Reed, take her,” Drake ordered, and I soon found another set of arms around me, gently lifting me off the floor and carrying me to our left, where another group of officers was racing to assist.
“That whore murdered my brother, and no one here is doing anything abo—”
There was a hard smack, followed by a scuffle and shoes squeaking on the linoleum floors.
I tried to turn to check on Drake, but Reed kept carrying me forward as the officers rushed past us.
“Drake, is he—”
“Drake can hold his own, trust me,” Reed quickly responded, briefly placing me back onto my feet at a set of double doors. There was an officer to my left behind some glass. “Cassidy Thomas. Being Released. And can you make it really quick because there’s an angry bastard back there trying to get to my friend here, and I need to get her out to the car so she’s safe?”
The lady officer quickly signed the paperwork in front of her and slipped it under a gap in the glass. “Word of warning. Cameras got wind of this and are buzzing outside.”
“Fuck,” Reed cursed, snatching up the paper and shoving it in his back pocket before looking over my shoulder. “News crews are here.”
“Better take a deep breath, Cassie,” Drake warned, his voice instantly wrapping around me, helping me to inhale long and deep just like he’d said before the door ahead buzzed loudly, and Reed pushed through it.
We were in a back alley, Drake’s SUV parked at the curb with Simon standing beside the door, his glare focused on a handful of people flashing cameras and holding out cell phones, screaming questions and names and demands.
“Mr. Shaw, are charges being laid for the murder?”
“Mr. Shaw, was the attack some kind of gang rivalry?”
Drake helped me into the back seat while Reed took the front.
