Chandler was wrong. I think that Detective Rias took the news about the guy with the scar quite seriously. And yes, I think that my testimony made him scratch me off the list of suspects—his list of suspects. Unfortunately, I was almost positive that, in the eyes of Bernard Lockwood, I was still a highly probable murderer. Chandler wasn't fond of the idea of spending another hour at the precinct, but I was determined to tell Malik Rias everything I knew about the guy with the scar. This time, the detective led us to his office. I could see a few frowns and curious gazes reaching us before Malik closed the door. I knew that many of those policemen recognized me, and most weren't happy to see me. I knew why. Damien was their friend, and I was the girl who accused him before and was also a suspect in his murder case. I sucked in a deep breath and turned my gaze away. I did nothing wrong—Damien did. I only hoped that one day the truth would reach all those fucked-up brains of theirs. "I
Hands trembling, I reached for the switch and turned off the lamp by my bedside. The sun had just begun to set, but wrapped in a thick layer of clouds, it didn't give off too much light. It worked to my advantage… or so I hoped. Certainly, the completely logical part of me told me to stay calm and consider all—more likable—possibilities.The car might have had nothing to do with me. Maybe whoever drove that car lived nearby and only parked in front of my building. Maybe whoever drove that car was visiting someone who lived nearby. Maybe whoever drove that car lost their way and was now looking at the map, wondering how to get out of here.I half-hid myself behind the curtain, then squinted my eyes, concentrating my stare on the van. I couldn't get a good sight of the windshield—possibly the only untinted window of the van—but my angle still allowed me to notice some movement inside. I froze. Someone must have been inside. I scratched out all the safe and logical arguments. Whoever was
I heard a whisper. Someone was calling my name, but the voice felt weak and hoarse. I forced air into my lungs. Stretching my chest made me wince, and wincing spread the pain through my insides. Something felt wrong with the way I felt my body. I opened my eyes and realized I was upside down, hanging on the seatbelts. Then I remembered. Two cars hit ours, pushing us off the road, and we fell down the hill."Aiden?" The raspy voice that came out of me sounded nothing like mine. It was dark, and I could barely see my fingers, even when I brought them close to my face."Charlie." I heard Aiden's ragged exhale. "Thank God… You're awake," he said softly and swallowed. "Hold on, I'm going to get you out of here."I looked to the sides, but I couldn't see him. Panic gathered within me. I needed to confirm that I hadn't imagined his voice. I needed to know he was real. "Aiden!" I called out hoarsely."I got you." His hand grabbed mine. I glanced down and noticed him crouching beside me, his f
The world around me froze. My brain processed the facts at a speed hundreds of times faster than light. I heard three shots. Not one, not two, but three. Who the hell fired the third one? And, most importantly, where did those bullets go? Would I feel an explosion of raw pain as soon as time restarted? Was I… going to die?I inhaled sharply, and all my senses returned. I expected the agonizing pain to come within a heartbeat, but it didn't. All I felt was a scorching cut on my right arm. I still held a gun pointed at the shooter, and his gun was pointed at me. Did he… miss?Another second passed, and he turned pale. The hand holding a gun lowered to his side. Did I shoot him? My heart thundered against my chest. My ribs shrank, limiting my breathing to shallow gasps. I wasn't wounded. Not severely. Not by his bullet. But he got hit. He must have gotten shot, but where? It was hard to spot blood on the black shirt and black combat pants he was wearing. After a heartbeat, he fell to his
My mouth opened, and I stared at Mr. Edevane blankly. It didn't make any sense. I was their target. It all fit. I had told the detective about the man with the scar, and then a black van appeared. Once the black van was gone, someone else came and pushed us off the road. I assumed that it was Mr. Scar who wanted me dead… But why would he want Aiden dead as well? Aiden knew exactly as much about Mr. Scar as I had told Detective Rias and Chandler Ellis. Would that mean that they were on the hit list as well?That wasn't the only thing that didn't make sense. I was a nobody, and my death would have probably gone almost unnoticed, but the death of someone like Aiden Hart? That would have been as huge as an international incident! No one in their right mind would have even considered killing someone with a background as powerful as Aiden's. That would have been like signing their own death sentences… unless they were powerful enough to take such a risk.Chills ran down my spine. I initiall
My recovery in Aiden's clinic was almost like spending four days in a luxury SPA with an out-of-this-world level of treatment. Again, I wondered what was in the IV drip I had been given the first two days after the accident. Whatever it was, it helped my bruises heal at an almost supernatural speed. Unfortunately, my inner muscles weren't as quick to forget they were strained, and my movements were limited, especially when I tried to move fast.My body was massaged and placed in an infrared sauna for healing sessions two times a day, and I had never thought that rehabilitation could be so relaxing. I guess a lot of things could be different for someone like Aiden Hart. But no matter how luxurious and soothing my treatment was, I couldn't shake off the feeling that my freedom here was restricted and I was under surveillance…It would have been easier if I could have stayed with Aiden. Unfortunately, the doctors insisted that his treatment required extra attention… and no distraction, w
I was rattled over my handwriting discovery. Still, I kept the revelation to myself. I needed to check it thoroughly. After all, both brothers might have had similar handwriting, and I was not a graphologist, but it was a clue. Even if Christopher forged his brother's signature, it wouldn't put him on Julienne's murder suspect list, but it would mean that he must have been involved in… something.I inwardly groaned at hearing my own thoughts. Someone put a death sentence on me, I had just spent three hours uselessly staring at the criminals, but it did nothing to lessen my excitement over finding out that Christopher might have been engaged in a series of Hart Global's failed projects.Yup, it felt even more pathetic when I put my thoughts in order. I took a shower, trying to wash away the lingering restlessness. It helped for about ten seconds before another wave of anxiety flooded me with cold sweat. I didn't want to be alone. I couldn't stand spending another moment without Aiden.
It turned out, I only needed to kick someone's ass for Aiden's team to respect me. Certainly, winning against Marina had nothing to do with my strength and everything to do with luck and her underestimating me, but that didn't change the fact that I knocked her down. As soon as the show was over, Aiden grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the training hall. I barely managed to grab my shoes on the way out. "Where are you taking me?" I called out as he led me through the corridor. He didn't answer; he only glanced at me over his shoulder. I caught his gaze and gulped. His eyes were dangerously dark, with only a thin ring of blue left. He pushed one of the doors open and pulled me into a small room that looked like storage for documents. There was nothing inside aside from a few shelves filled with boxes, a table, and a single chair. Aiden shut the door behind him, and a second later, my back was against that door, and Aiden's lips were on mine. "I couldn't wait to taste you," he purr