“Hunter, stop!” She shrieks, and it's loud enough to wake the f**king dead. “Listen to me! Listen to me!” She wraps her arms around a rock that's in the flower bed by the bottom stair and looks up at me with her mouth hanging half open. “I can't control what he does, Hunter!”
“What did he do?” I growl.
“He slipped into the room. She was asleep and you were out. I think he knocked her out and then he—” She swallows. “It's disgusting—I know it is, but I had nothing to do with it!”
“And then what?” “You can't expect me to tell you anything extra,” she says, haughty again. “You've made your bed, and now you'll have to lie in it. You took her out to the car and put her in! I asked you to, and you did it without question!”
“No I didn't.” That's ridiculous. “I would never do anything like that! You're a goddamned liar.”
“You did it,” she snaps.
“Because I was f**king drugged!” I lunge down and grab her by the wrists, dragging her toward my truck.
“I recorded you on my camera phone, and I’ve already delivered a copy of the file to Lisa from the FBI. She has your cuff link, too! Did you know that? And your real mother? Roxanne the escort? The Los Angeles Times knows about her, too. In fact, about now they should be learning a lot about you, Hunter West. I came upon a whole stockpile of your history.”
“You bitch.” I want to slap her, but I'm so shocked, my hands stop working and I let her go.
She dances out of reach, blonde hair flying around her face. “It was so easy,” she laughs. “What I told you was true—we didn’t plan this. But Lockwood has a cousin on the police force. Once he heard that they were really going to make a case out of this, he remembered how you helped us that night and he reached out to me. At that point I was pissed off.” She gestures at her body, laughing shrilly. “If you think you're too good for me, I'm too good to help you, so I helped him set you up.”
I lunge forward, grabbing her wrist, and she shrieks again as I drag her toward my truck. “Let me go!”
I fumble with the “unlock” button on my key as I try to keep her talking. “I still don’t understand why you’re helping him at all.”
“Who?”
“Lockwood! Are you in love with him?” I know she's not before she snorts, and I'm correct that the ridiculous question will elicit an elaboration.
“In love with that disgusting boar? Of course not!”
I swing the door open, tightening my grip around Priscilla's forearm. I'm going to get this shit recorded if it kills me.
“So it's the governor,” I murmur as I jerk her toward the cabin.
She shrieks and starts to go ape-shit, kicking at my crotch and biting at my arm. “LET ME GO! LET ME GO! LET ME GO!”
“No,” I growl. I throw her skinny ass into the front seat and Priscilla starts to claw at me. As I try to climb in behind her, planning to hold onto her arm until we take off driving, she pulls a can of Mase and sticks it in my face. I move so fast I'm out of the car before Priscilla can get her balance back; she tumbles out into the dirt.
As she gets to her feet, I try to grab her again, but she slaps me in the face, and I go reeling back.
“You can't win this, you stupid motherfucker. It's got roots you can't imagine, and you're the FBI's suspect number one. That's what I came to tell you!” She takes off into the lawn, her hair trailing behind her as she dashes to her Camaro. She stops mid-way. “You know, I am a little sorry, Hunter. Good men don't belong in prison.” She shrugs. “Guess that's what happens when you f**k hookers. Even virgin ones.”
“If you touch her, I will kill you slowly,” I warn.
She laughs, throwing back her head. “What a great idea.” She waves, and she's walking around her car—gone, and my opportunity is lost.
Chapter Thirty-Six
~ELIZABETH~
I wake up the next morning feeling like something is missing. I roll over in my cozy bed, and that's when I notice where I am. Holy crabcakes, I'm in Hunter's room! That makes me grin into the pillows. My smile slips a little when I realized I’m in it alone, and it goes away completely when I remember that today's the day I promised I would leave.
And I’m leaving a virgin.
I don’t want to leave, and not just because I still have my V-card. I don’t want to leave Hunter. He needs me right now—I feel certain he does. I roll over in the sheets, inhaling his scent, and I have to swallow back a sob. If I leave now, we might never spend this kind of time together again. And what about the trouble Hunter's in? Who's going to help him?
I go into my room, check to see if there's a text from Suri—there's not—and then I slide into a red dress and pin my hair back with red barrettes. I check my phone again, not quite ready to leave the room and set this day in motion. The clothes I slept in still smell like Hunter, so I bring them to my nose. How am I ever going to get over him? How will I forget any of this? Not just the experience with Hunter, but the dark story weaving itself around him. Sarabelle, Priscilla, the governor? I want to know more—for Cross's sake, and for Hunter’s—but I can’t ask.
I leave the room without zipping my bags. I inhale deeply when I reach the stairs, praying I'll smell breakfast—but there is nothing in the air except the smell of cleaner and hardwood. Where is Hunter? Is he even here?
I'm headed to his study, not sure exactly what I'll find. As soon as I reach the first floor, the doorbell rings. Doorbells at odd times remind me of the accidents my mom has had—accidents or incidents in which the cops showed up at our house. So hearing it now stops me in my tracks.
I look around.
It rings again.
I step over to the hallway that leads to Hunter's study. “Hunter?” I call. Surely a house like this has speakers in most rooms; in fact, I think I've seen them.
The doorbell rings again, and I step slowly to the glass panes surrounding the doors. Against my better judgment, I peek out. I'm shocked to find the person on the porch is Dr. Bernard. I clutch my stomach as my panic soars. She can only be here for me. Did something happen to my mother?
Without a second thought, I unlock the door and pull it open.
I'm holding my breath, bracing myself for her news, when she reaches her hand out to me like she wants to shake mine. Her face is curious, not grave.
“I'm surprised to find you here, Elizabeth. How are you?”
“I'm surprised to find you here,” I manage. I suck a deep breath in. “Are you here to see me?”