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“No, baby. Not on you. I just...I asked if there were any missing person reports from Las Vegas.”
Her jaw drops, her normally warm brown eyes looking at me with loathing.
“I didn’t tell them your name or the name you use,” I tack on since I know for damn certain that Madalyn is not her real name.
“How could you?” she asks in a whisper.
“Because you wouldn’t fucking talk to me!”
“This...this is all your fault!” she exclaims, gesturing to the dead man on the pole, and making everyone, including every cop in the vicinity, turn to look at us, at me.
“Oh, hell no,” I tell her through clenched teeth. “Don’t blame this shit on me. I just asked for a list and nobody matching your description was even on it.”
“Because my father wouldn’t risk putting my name on a public list when he has enemies everywhere!”
“Then maybe you should’ve fucking told me that!”
Last night I shouted at her for the first time. Today is another first—swearing at her while yelling. But whatever the hell is happening here isn’t on me. Maddie’s feeling guilty and trying to pile her shit on me.
“Jordan!” Remy calls out to get my attention and remind me that there are eyes and ears everywhere, including cops who want to talk to me because I know the dead guy hanging from the sign ofmyemployer.
I turn to him and hold up a finger, telling him that I need a minute. When I turn back to Maddie, she’s got her phone up to her ear and is already walking in the direction of Greer’s bar.
“Maddie, wait. You can’t just walk down the road alone, and I have to stay…”
“Celeste is coming to pick me up,” she says to me over her shoulder. “I just need…space.”
Space. Of course, she does. Space away from me because I finally exploded and blamed her for shit that’s not her fault. Not really, even if she knows who the hell is responsible.
“I’m sorry, okay?” I tell her when I catch up to her, stepping in front of her so she has to stop. “This isn’t your fault, but you know that it’s not mine either.”
“I trusted you,” she grits out. She may as well have just stomped all over my heart.
“No, you don’t. If you trusted me, then you would’ve been honest with me by now and stopped keeping secrets. I don’t blame you for being silent, being careful when we first met. But it’s been more than a year, and you know I love you no matter what.”
“Jordan!” Remy shouts again, and this time his tone is the presidential kind I can’t ignore unless I want to be on his shit list.
“I have to talk to him, but as soon as I’m done helping RJ catch up on jobs, I’ll come pick you up at Greer’s,” I tell her.
“I may need more time than that,” she says as Celeste’s sedan rolls up in the distance.
Rather than try to argue with her, I let her go. I wait until Maddie jogs over to the passenger side and slips inside the car before I turn back around to the crowd.
Making my way through the growing number of gawkers, I find Remy, who nods his chin toward one of the cops on the other side of the yellow police tape.
“Deputy Little wants to sit down in the shop and talk to you. It’s better than him dragging you down to the sheriff’s office in the back of his cruiser, right?”
“Yeah, fine. Whatever.”
“Colt and your mom should be here any second. Hand over your gun. I’ll stow it in your saddlebag.”
I discreetly slip him my Smith & Wesson while asking him. “Why did you call them? I’m not a fucking child.”
“I called them because shit is getting serious, Jordan. You need someone in that meeting to have your back. It’ll also be good to remind the sheriff you have connections to the Kings and the Fultons. They may not always agree with the shit we do, but they respect us, especially Rick Little.”
“Okay, fine.”
“Are you sure there’s nothing that you need to tell me before they get here?”
