Page 59 of Freeing Denver
Melody glances down the hall, then lowers her voice as she responds, “She’s being questioned.”
“How the fuck is that possible when herlawyerisn’t here?”
“It’s that new detective, Quinn Marshall. She’s fixated on the Luxes since Ranger showed up and started throwing his power around.” I go to move, but her hand darts out, her eyes wide. “Mr. Harland, she is out for blood. You go in there guns blazing, she’ll find a reason to arrest you, too. She’s tearing through other officers like a fucking hurricane. Most have quit cos they’re so scared she’ll catch them taking cash. Be careful.”
“Mr. Harland.” The smooth voice has me moving away from the desk.
The woman across from me looks far too fucking smug. Her pantsuit is the same dark blue as her eyes, thick lips twisted intoa smirk as she folds her arms. Her hair is so blonde it’s almost white and is pulled back into a low ponytail, some curls framing her face, like she’s haphazardly pulled it back but managed to make it look stylish.
“I gather you’re here for Mrs. Luxe.”
“Mrs. Harland,” I correct her, stepping forward. I look down at her. She must be five foot ten, but that means I’ve still got over seven inches on her. “She’s my wife.”
“Congrats,” she says. “Reckon you’ll outlive the first husband?”
“I’ll be sure to try and not get carjacked.”
Her smirk deepens, highlighting dimples in her cheeks. “Right. A carjacking. Tragedy.”
“Not for me.” I give her a bitter smile. “Denver didn’t kill anybody.”
“We’ll see.” She waves her hand at a line of plastic chairs. “Get comfy. I hope you like filter coffee.”
As Quinn Marshall walks away, Taf comes to my side. “This is not fucking good.”
No. No, it’s not.
Reid arrives thirty minutes later, looking like he’s fresh off a magazine cover and not that I woke him up an hour ago in the middle of the night. He gives me a reassuring shoulder squeeze as he passes, and I know it won’t take long for him to walk out with Denver, but my stomach is in knots.
Alistair hasn’t called. He should have an update by now, but when I call him, he doesn’t pick up. Lewis shows up, eyes wide with worry.
“I’m so fucking sorry, Colt. I wasn’t home. What the fuck has happened?” he says. “Where is she?”
I explain what I know, which isn’t much.
He paces as we wait.
And wait.
Reid once got Taf out of an assault charge within the hour, and there was CCTV of him committing the fucking crime. It’s impressive the lies he weaves, the way he works the system to keep our names clean. That, combined with the cops on our payroll, leaves us almost untouchable.
But hours pass, and Denver isn’t released.
When Reid finally reappears, he’s alone.
I shake my head as I approach him. “They’re not keeping her?”
“They are. This new detective won’t let this go,” he says, running his hand down his face. “We need to talk alone.”
“I’m not leaving here without my fucking wife, Reid.”
“You don’t have a choice. They have her for forty-eight hours, and we have until then to make sure this evidence doesn’t stick. But we cannot talk here.”
Walking away from this building feels like I’m tearing my heart out of my chest. Even being on the sidewalk feels like I’m abandoning her.
“I’m sorry, Taf, but we need to be alone,” Reid says once we’re on the street.
Taf frowns. “What do you mean?”
