Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 95676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
It will never be over between us. But with reporters at the gate, I didn't fight her. I know exactly why she did what she did. I'm mad as hell about it. But we'll deal with that when we get there. Right now, we have bigger problems. I've spent the last week putting the pieces together, rattling every fucking cage I can rattle. It's been slow going without a badge.
Duke strolls toward the kitchen table and plucks up the case file. He hesitates for a moment and then holds a photo out to me.
I snatch it from his hands, glancing at it. It's a photo of me and Ivy in the elevator, her hand in my pants. Captain has the same goddamn photograph. He threw a holy fucking fit about it. I have a meeting with Internal Affairs over it next week. Like I told him, they can fire me if they want. My relationship with her didn't stop me from doing my job and they know it.
"You showed her this?" I growl to Duke, my blood pressure rising.
His non-answer is answer enough. Of course he showed it to her.
"That's why she's been sitting in jail for a week?"
He nods.
"Motherfucker," I swear, taking a deep breath. I want to break his jaw, but I don't. I already worked this shit out for myself. It's the only thing that makes any sense. Ivy was upset about going to jail, but she hadn't given up hope when Ventura put her in cuffs. Whatever he said to her in that interview room changed that. And the only thing that would have prompted her to give up was him telling her about me. She sacrificed herself for me. I knew it the minute Jacoby told me that she requested to call off the deal with the D.A.
I should have known she wouldn't ask for a lawyer. She's too fucking stubborn. In her eyes, she's innocent and has nothing to hide. That belief is what fucks innocent people every goddamn time. People always swear they'd never confess to a crime they didn't commit…right up until they're the ones in the interview room. Something like thirty percent of people who are exonerated by DNA evidence confessed. The numbers only go up from there.
Cops are trained to get confessions. And the quickest way to get Ivy to confess was to threaten my career. Duke did what he was trained to do. He's a motherfucker for doing it. But he did what they pay him to do, no more and no less.
"She didn't do it," I say, eyeing him sideways.
He blows out a breath. "I know."
"You know or you're just saying that because I'm here now and you know I'm pissed?"
"She lied to me to save you," he says, holding my gaze. "I figure if she's willing to do that to save a cop, she's not the kind of person capable of telling this kid to take a leap from the bridge."
"Would have saved us both a lot of fucking time had you believed me a week ago," I mutter.
Guilt flickers in his expression and he nods. "What are we going to do about it now?"
"We?" I cock a brow at him.
He shrugs. "You're down a badge. You need me."
He's the last son of a bitch I want to work with right now. My girl just spent a week in jail because of him. She's probably crying right now and hating herself because of him. But I can't ask Jacoby to risk his badge for me. This motherfucker though? He owes me. He owes Ivy.
God, Ivy.
I'm in hell without you, kitten.
"How is she?" I rasp. "Really?"
"About as good as you," he says. "She had a panic attack when I told her she was being released." He cocks a brow. "I'm guessing that was your doing?"
"I want to see the photo from Los Angeles," I say instead of answering. That's why I really came here. She mentioned the photo. I want to see it. "The night she and Clark met."
Duke thumbs through the file for a moment and then pulls out another photo before holding it out to me. I take it, glancing down at it. Ivy's on stage. She's as beautiful as ever, her long hair flowing free down her back, her eyes closed as she belts out the lyrics. She comes alive on stage the same way she does when I'm inside her.
I shift my gaze from her, taking in the rest of the photo.
"Motherfucker," I whisper, defeat blasting through me when I see Clark at the front of the stage, his eyes on Ivy. Everyone's looking at Ivy…except for the woman staring at Clark. "I know who did it."
"Say that again," Duke says.
I glance from the picture to him. "I know who did it."
Chapter Twenty
Ivy
"That's it!" Erin cries, throwing her hands up when she comes in from work to find me curled up on the couch under a pile of blankets, watching The Notebook for the eight thousandth time.