Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
He looks down sheepishly, staring into his drink.
Next to him, Ros whimpers in her sleep, smacking her lips.
“Certainly not, Captain. Nothing of the sort. Truth be told, I was being a tad selfish when I saw you passing by and waved you in.” He meets my eyes again. Finally, a little truth. “I just wondered if you might consider putting in a good word for little ol’ me? For Ophelia Sanderson’s sake? She wasn’t so open when I tried.”
What the shit?
He can’t be serious.
I cock my head and stare as Ros stirs against him again.
There’s a tall empty glass with a fruity smell like raspberries next to her. I wonder how many she’s had to put her down in a bar that’s already getting noisy with the evening crowd trickling in.
“What about Ophelia? And what’s that got to do with me?”
A flash of teeth, too sharp and bone white.
He sweeps his shaggy hair out of his eyes, holding up a burgundy tablecloth—or is it a handkerchief—that looks oddly textured as he wipes his mouth.
“Ros here tells me you’ve always been rather close to her Ophie—and you know as well as I do how this little town loves to talk. In fact, I’ve heard you and Ophelia are quite inseparable.” His smile widens, indifferent to the swords flashing in my eyes.
I start to open my mouth, searching for the most tactful way to tell him to fuck off in public, but he raises his hands.
“It’s not my business, Captain Grant. Suffice it to say it’s wonderful to see you enjoying yourself with a lady friend again. I never imagined you’d—”
“Get to the point, Arrendell,” I bite off.
He holds his tablecloth up and sniffs.
“I simply hoped you might join us for a drink or two? We’ll sit, we’ll catch up, and if I can turn that scowly frown into a smile, perhaps you’ll see there’s nothing for dear Ophelia to worry her pretty little head over. Ros and I were made for each other.” He pauses, this sneering smile spreading across his lips. “Did you know this dear creature convinced me to do laundry? I never touched a washing machine in my life before she began trusting me with her unmentionables.”
Fucking. Gross.
It’s a real effort to keep the revulsion off my face.
Especially as he makes a big show of capturing her hand and pressing it to his lips. Weirdly without releasing that little scrap of cloth in his hands, which keeps finding its way back to his cheek.
Who knew an Arrendell needed a security blanket?
“That’s between you and the Sandersons,” I say flatly. “If you remember anything else about Cora Lafayette, you know where to find me.”
“About that drink—”
“No.” I’m so done. And I’m already turning when I stop and throw a look back over my shoulder that I wish was scathing enough to banish him to hell.
“Ah. You disappoint me, Captain.” He holds up that bundle of—whatever the hell it is—clutched in his hand and breaths it in like potpourri.
Syrupy joy clouds his eyes.
My gaze flicks to Ros who’s basically out cold in his arms. She’s barely moved the whole time.
Holy shit.
Is he so out of it he’s abusing some nasty substance in public? I swear, if he’s here huffing some chemical shit, powdered opioids, cocaine, right in front of me—
My hand moves faster than my brain.
Lunging, I rip the thing away from him, spread it out, scanning the wine-purple surface for any sign of drugs. If I see one damn speck of narcotics, I’ll arrest him on the spot.
Then it hits me what I’m looking at.
I stumble back like I’ve been punched, clumsily thudding into a table behind me.
I drop the thing like it’s suddenly on fire.
Aleksander doubles over, laughing like a deranged hyena, banging his fist lightly against his head.
I’m not goddamned amused.
Frankly, I’m not sure how I’ll ever live down shaking out a pair of panties in a busy bar. Especially if they really belong to Ros Sanderson.
“Are you out of your damn mind?” I barely resist the urge to yank him out of that booth and fling him around until he stops fucking laughing.
I get my way a second later when his fit stops and the broken smile fades, leaving a watery-eyed glare fixed on me.
“Hardly, Captain Faircross. There’s another word you’re looking for. Obsessed. Truly, completely, inseparably. Don’t tell me that’s a crime?”
He kisses Ros’ forehead and clutches her head. Even with all the commotion and at least a dozen people staring at us now, she’s still grogged out.
Fuck me.
I back away slowly.
A second later, I’m almost tearing the door off its hinges. I’ve never been more grateful for a face full of cold air.
I need to get out of here before I do something monumentally stupid.
Unfortunately, Aleksander Arrendell hasn’t committed a crime by being a depraved, psychotic, creepy fuck.