Total pages in book: 767
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
I shook my head. “It’s… it’s not my blood. I found her.”
I followed him back into the house where the other paramedic and three firemen stood in the two-story great room in front of river rock fireplace, but weren’t doing anything to help Erin. One was speaking into a walkie talkie, although I wasn’t paying any attention to what he was saying.
I looked down at Erin by the couch, just as I’d left her. The responders weren’t doing anything because they knew she was dead. She looked dead, even wearing her familiar black yoga pants and white tank top, the shirt stained with blood on the right side.
“Ma’am, can you tell me what happened here?” a firefighter asked, taking in my appearance. “Did you get in a fight?”
My mouth dropped open. “What? No. I… I just woke up. I found her like that.” I pointed toward Erin.
“Why are you covered in blood?”
I spun about at the voice. It wasn’t any of the first responders, but someone else. Someone I knew, just by the deep tone of his words.
“Nix,” I whispered.
The man who’d starred in the bulk of my late-night fantasies stood before me in all his six feet plus glory. He wore jeans and a button-down shirt, a prized rodeo belt buckle about his waist. A service pistol was in a holster on his hip right next to the badge, and right next to that… his bulge.
I blinked, looked away. God, my roommate was dead, and I was ogling Nixon Knight’s package. But it was Nix. Everything about him was familiar, like coming home, even though I hadn’t seen him in over a year. Even though he was one of the reasons I’d left Cutthroat. Even though he had zero interest in me. That had me glancing away, my cheeks flushing. Not from being caught, but from the shame from last year. My wasted imaginings. My misplaced love.
“Kit,” he replied, reaching out and settling his hand on my shoulder and bending at the waist so his dark eyes met mine. “You’re not hurt?”
His gaze was shrewd, assessing, taking in every inch of me.
“No. This is all hers.” I lifted my hands, then dropped them. “I… went to help her, but… but there was nothing to do. I called 9-1-1.”
I wanted to run into his arms, have him hug me tight and make all the bad stuff go away, but he wasn’t here as a friend, or even past almost-boyfriend. He was working. I was his job.
“I didn’t know you were back in town,” he said.
I bit my lip, glanced away from his scrutiny. “Um… last month.”
“You’re staying here with Erin?”
“Yes. I’m working with her at Mills Moments.” He looked confused. “Her event planning business.”
“Oh. Right.”
“I was saving up some money to get a place of my own. We’ve been really busy though, handling a few smaller events—like a wedding last night. Most of our time lately has been on a big client, handling all of the catering, the parties and marketing events for Eddie Nickel’s new movie. We were to meet him this morning.”
Eddie Nickel was a famous movie star, but had a house in Cutthroat. Had two kids. Shane, was a few years older than me, but Poppy had been in my high school class. Both of them grew up here with a nanny while Eddie had been in Hollywood or on location filming.
“On a Sunday?”
I shrugged. “They work every day when on location.”
“I’ll have someone get in touch with him,” he replied. Obviously, I wasn’t making that meeting. Neither was Erin. I swallowed hard, realizing how awful that was. Tears threatened, but I willed them back.
He walked toward Erin’s body, but not too close, squatted down, took in everything. I knew he was seeing things I couldn’t.
After a minute, he stood and turned to me. “Tell me what happened.”
“I don’t know what happened to her. I… was sleeping and came out to make coffee. Found her, then called 9-1-1.”
“Where’s your bedroom?” He glanced around the space. The huge kitchen was open to the great room, a curving staircase was to the side of the fireplace.
I pointed down the hall and to the back of the house. “Behind the kitchen. Erin’s room is upstairs. The second floor is pretty much a huge master suite.”
He glanced the way I’d indicated, then back at me. “Why are you covered in blood?”
I looked down at myself, turned my hands palm up and saw how they were completely covered, then told him how I’d settled her on my lap, wondered how she’d hit her head, all of it. Which wasn’t much, the first responders quietly listening. Only the walkie talkie voice cut through the silence.
I shivered, crossed my arms over my chest when I realized I was standing in front of Nix and five other men in just a skimpy tank top—without a bra—and little sleep shorts. Glancing down, I saw my nipples poking against the stretchy cotton, but then I saw all the blood on me. The yellow color was stained, my hands were covered, my arms smeared. There was even some on my blue striped shorts and thigh.