AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“They’re for my friends. My name’s just on the order number. They need fittings.”
“Very well,” Liam said with a nod. “Follow me, then, gentlemen.”
The three men walked over to Liam, and they followed him to the back of the store. Now, it was only Mykie, Renly, and Jezebeth standing there.
“I’ll go, uh, look around and let you two talk,” Jezebeth said, sidestepping away from the duo.
“We have nothing to say to each other,” Renly sniffed. He turned his head away from her and looked to be checking the tags on the suits behind him.
Mykie rolled her eyes. She felt like she was about to enter an argument with a spoiled child. She questioned whether it was even worth putting herself through the effort, but she knew she wouldn’t forgive herself if she didn’t try, and let him slip through her fingers. “We do need to talk. I wanted to explain what happened, but you wouldn’t listen—“
“Would you have listened?” he bit out. He whipped around to face her.
She thought about it for a few seconds.
“No,” she said, tilting her head, “but I would regret never hearing what that person had to say.”
He stood silently in front of her, his hard expression unchanging. Was he going to be so unreasonable, not hear what she had to say? The knowledge of someone out there, someone she thought she was growing closer to, blaming her for one of the few things she hadn't done…
Mykie’s chest was filled with dread at the thought.
Renly finally moved, crossing his arms in front of him as if to shield himself. “I’m listening now.”
Mykie let out a sigh of relief and took a step toward him. When he didn't back away, she took another, and another, before she was standing close enough to him to touch. She laid her hand on one of his forearms before she spoke.
“You have to believe me when I say that I would never purposely hurt you. I’m being framed for your father’s death right now. I know who really did it—“
Renly dropped his arms. “You do? Who?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know the guy’s real name, but he’s definitely a Vulture.”
“They’re the group that keeps coming after you, right?” he said, narrowing his eyes.
“Yes. I told you getting involved with me would be nothing but trouble, and look what happened?” she stressed, running her hand back through her hair. The gesture didn’t do much, as her hair was still in her ponytail, but the frustrated habit relieved the tension in her body slightly.
Renly walked past her. Mykie swiveled on her heels to keep him in her sights as the man processed her words.
Without warning, Renly whipped around and stomped her way. His hand was up, and a finger was jabbed in her face. “Why would you tell me that you know the killer, but can’t help me catch him? What’s the use in giving me hope only to stomp it out in seconds? How do I know you’re not lying?”
“I hoped—no, I need you to forgive me, Renly. I didn’t like how we left things, so bitter and angry,” Mykie said desperately.
“I still don’t know what to think, Mykie. A huge part of me believes you, but the other part casts doubt.” Her face fell, and he rushed on. “You can’t deny how much evidence there is pointing to you. You either did it, or someone is really out to get you and knows exactly how to do it.”
She sighed as she noticed how his eyes were drawn to her jacket.
“Zack is clever. He’s the same one that’s been following me around, so he knows how to make it look so realistic that I would start believing it, too.”
“So, you do know his name?” he pressed.
She shook her head and couldn’t help the humorless laugh that escaped her lips.
“No. He gave me a fake name just to toy with me, I believe.” She shrugged. “It’s a whole lot better than to keep calling him ‘the Vulture guy’, I think.”
“This is so frustrating,” Renly said as he ran his left hand through the neat mop of blonde on his head.
“There’s still a way for me to find out who he is. I have an informant I can talk to. I’m sure he’s been looking into the issue himself already, but if not, I’ll set him on the right tracks,” Mykie tried to assure him. She couldn’t see why Ryker wouldn’t already be looking into his adoptive father’s death. She knew he wasn’t fond of the family, but he had to care a little for them, right? Why else would he stick around and help his adoptive family with their business at twenty-six?
“When will you know?” Renly asked, his tone turning urgent the more they spoke on the subject.
