Page 51 of Sinner’s Game

“Ronan,” I whisper, then jump as the next shout of Brandy from outside is accompanied by the sharp ring of Ronan’s landline.

“Is that Lamar?” I ask, referring to the voice, at the same time that Ronan leans sideways and reaches to answer the landline.

I snatch up my phone. “He texted SOS. He’s outside, shouting for me from the street. Good God,” I add as I see a dozen texts and missed calls. “What’s going—”

I cut myself off when I see the look on Ronan’s face. “Understood,” he says, then ends the call.

“What?”

“We’re leaving. Grab whatever you need. I want to be out of here in five minutes.”

I don’t argue. I haven’t unpacked, so I just grab my overnight bag and my purse, then shove my phone into my back pocket.

“Why?” I say when I’m back in the living room.

“The cops found the footage. An SD card in the camera itself. And a picture of you blowing away your landlord. They’ll look for you here. You’re not going to be here when they do.”

“Oh, God.” A wave of cold fear washes over me, not just for me, but for Lamar, too. “He could get fired if they know he told us.”

“For more than that,” Ronan says grimly. “He called the landline from a burner I gave him a while back. Wanted us to know that it’s not just the tape. He found a box of bullets at your place.”

“Well, sure. I have the Ruger he bought me.”

“That’s a .22. These were 9mm. The same caliber that killed your landlord. And the box had six missing.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Angel, he found it in your bedroom. Your underwear drawer. He stayed for the search, just in case. And he pocketed the box.”

“He hid evidence?”

Ronan nods.

“But—but how did that even get there? Those bullets don’t fit my gun, and …” I trail off. I know perfectly well how it got there. “Why? Why is she setting me up?”

“Once someone takes the fall for Mr. Big’s death, the cops will stop looking. You’re the patsy, angel. We just have to make sure we keep you safe and hidden until we can prove that you’re a victim, too.”

Chapter Seventeen

“This okay?” Reggie asks, ushering Ronan and me into one of the suites at her family-owned hotel. The SeaSide Inn is a charming little hotel on the Pacific Coast Highway near the Devlin Saint Foundation.

The room itself opens off of an atrium, the perimeter of which is lined with the various guest rooms. Ours is a suite—two bedrooms and a living area. And since Reggie’s family owns it and she’s part of Saint’s Angels, we’re registered under fake names. Even Lamar doesn’t know where we are. Not because we don’t trust him, but because we don't want him to have to lie.

“I’ve known Chief Randall all my life,” I tell Ronan as soon as Reggie’s left us alone. “No way will he believe I did this.”

“Probably not,” he says. “But it’s not a question of belief. It’s a question of evidence. And he has to run with that or screw his reputation.”

“But I didn’t do anything.”

“Angel, I know.” He comes to me, his hands on my shoulder smaking me feel safe. I want his kisses again. I want that place where we were before Lamar interrupted, our bodies close, our lips touching, and our minds far, far away from the body in my living room.

I think he’s going to take me there, and I tilt my head up to look at him, but instead of heat, I see storm clouds in those deep blue eyes.

“It’s late,” he says. “You should sleep.”

“Oh. Right.” I force a smile because there is no way I want him seeing my disappointment. I start to turn away, then stop. “Thank you for keeping me safe.”

“I’d do anything for you.” His voice is soft, but the words are solid, and I feel the weight of them like armor around me. At the same time, though, I know they're not true. Because tonight I realized what I do want—maybe it’s not how I usually am, and maybe it’s terrifying, but I want Ronan. I want his touch. I want sex, the closeness and comfort that comes with it. Ronan has been my everything ever since he carried me out of hell, and even though I know he doesn’t want forever, I’m still certain that I want now.