Page 59 of The Golden Hour

“No doubt. But on the other hand, we have to consider the victim we found. What about their family? They deserve justice.”

“I know,” I murmur, then huff a humorless laugh. “I’m so stupid. I actually thought the evidence I’d eventually find would be something innocuous. A USB drive. Crooked financial records. Blackmail on recorded phone calls. I guess a part of me wanted to believe that despite my intuition, they wouldn’t stoop to murder.”

Finn is quiet for long minutes, then says, “I was there. When your father killed mine.”

My fingers spasm, reflexively releasing his hand. Horror swamps me. “Oh my God. I didn’t know.”

He shrugs. “No one does. Because of the high-profile nature of the case, the threat of retribution, and because I was underaged, the judge ruled that my identity should be concealed. I testified in closed chambers, just me, my mom, and the judge.” He clears his throat. “That’s why I’m pretty sure your father didn’t kill whoever we unearthed back there. He said something before he made my father get on his knees then put a gun to the back of his head. My dad called him a coward for not being able to look him in the eye.”

My stomach roils. I clench my hands so hard I feel my nails pierce skin on my palms. “You don’t have to—”

“It’s okay, I want to. Rafael said, ‘I’ve never killed anyone who was my equal. You don’t deserve to see my face.’ Then he pulled the trigger.”

Thick tears slide down my cheeks, dripping off my chin. “I’m sorry, Finn. So, so sorry. He was a monster. They’re all monsters.”

“Hey.” He takes my hand again, squeezing it tightly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you that, not after what we just saw.”

Wiping my face with my free hand, I say, “No, I’m glad you did. I just can’t believe you saw your father die.”

I think of witnessing the heart attack that took my own father’s life. The panic and fear in his eyes fading to nothingness. What I felt in that moment was an emptiness so vast I feared it would swallow me. Not the emptiness of shock or grief, but of indifference. How would I have felt if Rafael Avellino had been a good man, a good father? I can’t imagine it.

“I knew something was wrong when he was getting ready to leave that night,” Finn says at length. “He looked scared. I heard him tell my mom that he had to attend a meeting about the fire that killed twenty people in an apartment building earlier that month. Do you remember that?”

I duck my head, my neck hot with shame. “Not really.”

He doesn’t seem surprised. “The apartment building was your family’s, and the fire was due to faulty wiring. Cutting corners during construction. My dad was the one who did the investigation and found the proof. Rafael tried to blackmail him. My father refused.”

“I guess I never learned about the trail because I didn’t want to know. It was easier to cling to ignorance.”

He squeezes my hand again. “You were a kid.”

“So were you,” I mumble.

“I was an impulsive hothead who snuck into the trunk of my dad’s SUV and became a witness to his murder.”

A silent sob seizes my chest. Lifting his hand, I kiss the back of it. “I’m sorry. For everything. For what my father did to your family.”

I don’t realize the car is parked outside the apartment complex until his other hand frames my face.

“Look at me, princess.”

Blinking away tears, I meet his steady gaze.

“It is not your fault. Do you understand? Not. Your. Fault. I don’t blame you. No one will blame you. There’s nothing you could have done to change any of it.”

“I could have stayed,” I babble. “Tried to stop them six years ago. But I didn’t, and now it’s too late. My poor sisters, when they find out… God, this is a nightmare.”

Finn scoots forward until his forehead drops against mine. “I think your sisters are stronger than you give them credit, just like you’re stronger and braver than you think you are. What kind of woman does what you did—escapes that life—then gives it all up to come back and make a difference?”

“A nut job,” I say weakly.

“If you’re a nut job, I’m certifiable, too. Maybe we can share a padded room.”

His lips are curved, the sensuous slope of them teasing a new awareness from inside me. A vast, gnawing need to erase the last few hours from my skin. And the conviction that he’s my perfect remedy.

“Can we go inside now?” I’m breathless. Squirming in my seat.

He moves back an inch, his eyes searching mine. There’s no doubt he picked up on the shift in my tone.

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