AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“She is,” he says.
Savage has got that unreasonably deep voice that most men would give their left nut to have. It makes him sound like he could wrestle a bear and win.
“Have you got eyes on them?” I ask. “Can you see them?”
“Curtains are shut, but I’ll try to get a closer look. You worried? You want me to get in there and find out what’s going on?”
My gaze flickers across the gathered partygoers and lands on one in particular. My eyes widen.
“Get closer if you can. I’ll be on my way there, shortly.”
“Got you.”
Savage hangs up.
I pocket my phone and enter the living room. I grab the guy with the ginger hair and spin him toward me.
“What the?—?”
The guy’s wearing a suit, his eyes are close together, and his upper lip curls into a sneer as he pulls his arm out of my grasp.
“Are you having an aneurysm, Taylor?” That comes from Davis, who’s standing with him. “What the fuck’s wrong with you?”
“Jonesy,” I say, staring at the ginger-haired guy. “What are you doing with him?” I ask Davis.
“This is my cousin,” he replies, his head pulled back as he studies me like I’m unhinged.
“Jonesy,” I repeat.
“No, not Jonesy. What kind of name is Jonesy, anyway?” Davis asks. “Are you having a stroke? George is a doctor. He can help you if you need medical attention.” He gestures to the ginger-haired guy. Davis laughs. “Then again, when don’t you need medical attention? Anyone who marries a Walsh needs?—”
I turn toward the guy I’m pretty sure threatened Marci, and he lifts a palm.
“Hello,” he says. “And you are?”
“Marci’s husband,” I snap. “What were you doing in her diner, threatening her?”
“I’m sorry, what?” George, Jonesy, whatever the fuck his name is, glances at Davis and back to me again. “I have no idea who you’re talking about.”
“A couple of months ago, you stopped in at the Heartstopper Diner, and you threatened my wife,” I say.
“She wasn’t your wife a couple of months ago,” Davis says pointedly.
“Look, dude, I didn’t threaten anyone. I was in town visiting family,” he says, gesturing to Davis, “and I happened to get a drink from a diner. I think. What the hell? It was so long ago I can barely remember.”
“So, you—” I cut off, dread tunneling through my stomach.
Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck no.
I grab the guy’s hands and lift them. He flinches and tries to pull back, but I don’t let him go. I examine his knuckles. Nothing. No signs that he was in a fight or that he battered Marci’s brother. He’s got manicured fucking fingernails for fuck’s sake. This guy isn’t a threat. He’s an asshole.
I step back, running fingers through my hair as I click everything into place in my mind.
No fucking wonder I couldn’t find this Jonesy guy. No wonder.
He doesn’t fucking exist.
I should have trusted my gut instinct, but I was too close to Marci, to the issued, to follow through.
