Page 115 of Runaway Bride's Guide to Love

“Is there more evidence?” Maeve asks. “Like, is there anything that can be dug up that would put a nail in his coffin?”

“Nothing short of a confession from him would be enough,” William says. “And I doubt that smug bastard is going to do that.”

Stella and I didn’t get back home until after three in the morning. I don’t think we said a word on the drive from Rolling Hills to Nashville. Or before she fell asleep in my arms, completely exhausted from the day.

I don’t remember the last time I slept in past nine, but after yesterday’s events, it makes sense. I probably could’ve slept longer if Winnie hadn’t started pawing at me to take her outside. Stella barely moved when I rolled out of bed and is still sleeping.

I want to kill Duncan. Murder him with my bare hands. Then I want to bring him back to life so I can do it again.

It was one thing when I knew he was just a shitty human. I’ve met many men who were and many men will continue to be. But to set her up so she’ll go to jail? To blame massive federal crime on her? Anything less than me sending him to an early grave isn’t punishment enough.

“Hey,” Stella says, her voice still sleepy as she walks into the kitchen. “Please tell me there’s coffee?”

I reach into the refrigerator and grab the iced latte I had delivered about an hour ago. “I kept it cold for you until you woke up.”

Her smile is small as I lean down and kiss her forehead. When I step back, I can’t help but notice how defeated she looks.

“What can I do?” I ask, wanting nothing more than to take this pain away. Or to help get this investigation over. “Please, there has to be something, because I’m dying over here.”

She shakes her head and Winnie sits at her feet, sensing her sadness. “I wish there was. Believe me, this isn’t like the time Iwas moving out of his house and thought I could do it all myself. I genuinely don’t know what anyone can do.”

We walk into the living and sit on the couch, Stella all but on my lap as I hold onto her like the feds are going to storm in right now and take her away.

“I hoped yesterday was a bad dream,” she says as I stroke her hair. “It feels like a nightmare.”

“I know,” I say, kissing the top of her head. “It’s going to be a distant nightmare soon. I promise.”

“How?” she asks as she sits up to look at me. “You didn’t see all the evidence they had against me, Emmett. Thick folders. Like thick with four Cs. If someone on social media made a true crime documentary on me, it would take eight parts just to get through the things I allegedly did.”

“I know it doesn’t look good. But we’ll think of something. We have to. There’s no other option.”

If either of us know that option, we don’t voice it. In fact, we sit in silence for I don’t know how long. That’s until a few minutes later when the front door is thrown open and a woman I’ve only ever seen in pictures walks through.

“I’ve got an idea!”

We’re startled as Quinn comes barreling through the front door, Maeve and Ainsley on her heels.

How do they know where I live?

“I’m sorry about her,” Maeve says. “The child locks didn’t keep her inside the car. Oh, and Simon is on his way. That’s how we got the address if you were wondering.”

Well, that clears one thing up.

“Fuck your child locks. This can’t wait.”

I know Quinn has always been described as the blunt one of the Banks family. And she might be. But right now, she’s Simon in the female form.

“I had a very long flight with a ton of turbulence and a snorer behind me, so I had plenty of time to think,” she says. “And I think I know how we’re going to take Duncan down.”

Now that gets my attention.

“Wait!” That comes from Simon, who is all but running into my house. “Did you start yet?”

“Nope,” Quinn says. “You’re right on time.”

Stella sits up and looks around with the same confused look that’s on my face. “Can someone please tell me what’s happening right now?”

Everyone gets settled, but Quinn and Simon look like they’re about to bust with excitement.

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