Mika sighs.
“Fine,” he grumbles. “Let’s go sit down for a minute,” he urges.
For some reason—probably the alcohol—I am feeling particularly defiant right now.
“I’m fine right here, thank you. What. The. Fuck. Is. Going. On?”
I watch my person exchange some looks with both the Kingsley siblings, and that is when I realize I am the only one in the dark here.
“Somebody better start talking before I lose it.”
“Damn it, Kingsley, tell her,” Eric bites out.
Judging from the death stare aimed at Eric, Mika doesn’t appreciate the outburst, but he finally answers me.
“At 9:23 a.m. this morning, Jasper escaped police custody while being transported to prison.”
My heart literally stops beating for a moment, and I can feel the color drain from my face. I feel my throat closing as panic begins to rise in my chest.
“Oh, my God,” I choke out.
“Earlier this evening, the police discovered his body. He had been murdered. Brutally so. I need to go in for questioning.”
“Questioning?” I repeat.
I look around at the faces of the people that I am supposed to be able to trust more than anyone. I am feeling a lot of things right now: anger, fear, disbelief, and no matter how terrible it sounds, relief. Now I know Jasper can’t hurt me anymore. But right now, there is not a single coherent thought floating in my head.
My knees buckle beneath me. Things are being said, and I hear the voices, but none of them land. And then it all goes black.
When I open my eyes, I am surrounded by people. I feel disorientated, and it takes me a few more seconds than it should to realize where I am. I’m lying on a couch in Jillybean’s office, away from the prying eyes of the many guests at the event. My eyes roam across the concerned faces hovering over me.
“Give her some room to breathe!” Mika barks, yet he makes no attempt to move himself. He guides my face and angles it, forcing me to look at him.
“Are you alright, Sweet Pea?” he whispers.
I can’t find my voice right now; my throat feels dry, so I simply nod.
“Sean will take you to the penthouse,” Mika tells me as he helps me sit up.
“Maybe she wants to go home,” Jill interjects. “You might not even show back up tonight.”
This is the moment my current reality sinks in. My kidnapper-slash-stalker escaped custody this morning and was found brutally murdered this evening, all of which was kept from me by my loved ones. Now my boyfriend is a person of interest in a murder investigation and is going to the police station to answer some questions. I feel sick to my stomach.
“I’ll go to the apartment,” I croak. “You need to stay here and tend to your guests and your event.”
“Rae, I—” Jill bites her lip, and I can see her eyes watering.
“Besides, I need a little distance from you right now,” I say, interrupting her.
She stops talking when she sees the look on my face. She can read me better than anyone on the planet. I also know she is hurting because she knows I am hurt and angry right now. Although part of me wants to soothe her and tell her that we are okay…right now we are not, and I refuse to lie to her. I can’t believe she kept something this major from me. From Mika, at least, I expect something like this. I don’t particularly like it, but I expect it. He’s incredibly overprotective, and he has zero boundaries or qualms when it comes to me and my safety. If he thinks he is protecting me, nothing is out of bounds.
As for Mikaela and the others, they were probably under strict instruction not to speak out about this. And also, they are not my person. Maybe that is why I am mostly angry at Jill. She is supposed to be on my team. They all need to stop acting like I’m this fragile little bird. I know that I have been a little out of sorts these last few months, but shit, being kidnapped and nearly having the life squeezed out of you will do that to a person, right? I gather my thoughts together and stand abruptly.
“I am ready to go,” I state simply.
I stand, and without looking at anyone, I turn and start walking out of Jill’s office. Sean immediately falls into step.
“The car is at the back entrance, Ms. Ray.”
“Okay. Great. Thank you, Sean,” I say, forcing a smile.
Mika stalks behind us and gently, but firmly, takes my wrist in his hand to stop me from walking farther.
“Don’t push it, Mika,” I warn.
“Raeva.”
My name falls from his lips as a plea. I close my eyes momentarily and take a deep breath.
“Listen, I will be at your apartment waiting for you. I just need a minute to process all of this, okay? Can you give me that?”
The fact that I know he has an incomprehensible need to control every aspect of his life—which now, in his mind, also includes mine—followed by the fact that he actually concedes by simply nodding and releasing me as he steps back, causes me to somewhat soften toward him. Thanks to my mile-high heels, I barely have to stand on the tips of my toes to kiss him softly on the cheek.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He closes his eyes, and he inhales deeply, as if to memorize my scent. I give him a moment before I step back and turn to leave. I don’t have to turn around to know that he watches me until the door closes behind me.
I trail behind the stocky detective with the unfortunate walrus mustache (I remember that his name is Daryl Franklin, but I nicknamed him Wally in my head), and I’m closely followed by Hardwick. The detective leads us to what I assume to be an interrogation room.
“Detective Taylor is already waiting for us,” Wally grunts as he opens the door.
I look around the bare room. The only furniture that graces this depressing room is a wooden table with a metal tabletop that’s bolted to the floor in the middle of the room and four metal folding chairs. The walls are painted in a dirty shade of gray, and the paint is peeling off in various places. There is a large mirror on the wall behind lanky Detective Taylor, and although I have never been in one of these rooms before, I have seen enough movies to deduce it’s one of those mirrors where people can watch you through from the other side.
“Take a seat, Mr. Kingsley.”
I nod slightly.
“Thank you.”
The room is silent for a moment, eyes intent on each other’s movements. I take a seat, and Eric, who has taken the seat beside me, is the first one to speak.
“I would like to remind you gentlemen that Mr. Kingsley is here of his own free will and offering his full cooperation. After learning about the…unfortunate...untimely ending of Mr. Clayton earlier this evening, Mr. Kingsley felt it would be in everyone’s best interest to be transparent regarding his whereabouts today.”
Leave it to Hardwick to get directly to the point. He doesn’t like to waste time, and that suits me just fine. He wasn’t particularly happy with my decision to come here tonight, but I like to nip shit like this in the bud. Eric seems to be under the impression that this conversation might not be taken as intended, but I pay him to worry about crap like this.
“Of course,” Detective Taylor croons smoothly. “We are certainly appreciative of Mr. Kingsley’s…proactiveness.”
I turn to look at Hardwick, and I raise my eyebrow. I certainly don’t miss or appreciate the man’s tone.
“That is a very interesting choice of words, detective,” I interject, leaning closer and making direct eye contact. “I am a very wealthy man, detective, and I am not talking about the old Kingsley money. I have made my own fortune, which just so you know is vastly more significant than anything my sister and I inherited. I am not telling you this to boast or brag, but to point out that I have not managed to do so by being stupid. So yes, I anticipated that you might be interested in what my schedule for today was.”
“Mr. Kingsley, at what time were you aware that Mr. Clayton had escaped custody?”
“I was made aware of Sam Clayton’s escape
this morning at 9:36 a.m.”
Wally seems surprised for a moment but recovers quickly.
“How is it that you were aware before any media outlet, Mr. Kingsley? Or even most law enforcement?”
Hardwick speaks before I can even open my mouth.
“Detectives, my client’s number one priority is the safety of his sister and his girlfriend. He has a dedicated security detail that covers every and any detail regarding their safety. Knowing the whereabouts of Mr. Clayton is part of that. Mr. Kingsley’s team was aware of the transportation and was monitoring. Unfortunately, the team only had one man to keep an eye on the situation since it was believed that the police were capable of transporting an inmate without a problem.”
I almost snicker at that part. Eric Hardwick doesn’t miss a beat. I watch the reactions of the two men sitting across from me. A flicker of annoyance dances across Detective Taylor’s face, and I swear that Wally is grinding his teeth together under that ridiculous face mop.
“He wasn’t able to assist with the situation,” Eric continues. “And he was under strict orders to stay out of police business. I have taken the liberty of bringing you a copy of the report written by the security team member.”
Eric places his black leather briefcase onto the metal tabletop. He rifles through some files before placing a blue dossier onto the table and sliding it across to the detectives.
“These are all the places Mr. Kingsley has been today. It includes a list of witnesses and their contact information.”
He pulls out another folder, a brown one this time, and slides that over, too.
“There is no doubt in my mind that both those files will check out. I am sure a man as intelligent as Mr. Kingsley wouldn’t implicate himself in any crime,” Wally grunts.
Irritation bubbles inside of me, so I pause for a moment and count to ten in my head. These idiots couldn’t even manage a fucking simple inmate transfer, and now they want to play all high and mighty while I come in here after having done half of their work for them?
“Now, I will certainly not insult your intelligence by insinuating that I had no ill will toward Mr. Clayton. We all know that there was certainly no love lost between us, and when I tell you that I feel that the world is a better place without this psychotic piece of crap, believe me, I mean that from the tips of my toes. After what he did to my sister and my girlfriend, I wanted nothing more than to kill him with my bare hands.”
I hold up two fingers to indicate to Eric that I’ve got this.
“But gentlemen,” I say, making sure to initiate eye contact with both detectives. “While nobody could blame me for those feelings—in fact, I would wager that many would share them—I have not acted on those feelings. My focus has solely been on the safety of the two important women in my life, and me spending my days behind bars would not ensure their safety. Don’t you think I would realize that if I killed that asshole that I would be the first suspect? Again, gentlemen, I am not stupid.”
Detective Taylor fiddles with his ill-fitting suit jacket before clearing his throat.
“Or you knew that we would very likely not believe that a man like you could be that stupid. You could have been banking on us immediately dismissing you as a suspect, and what actually seems stupid turns out to be smart then, wouldn’t it?”
I’m tired of this beating around the bush bullshit. One of my biggest pet peeves is incompetence, and from the moment I walked into the station, I have had to keep reminding myself to stay calm. I force a smile, the same smile I use when I am talking to the press or particularly challenging business associates or, frankly, people that annoy the shit out of me.
“Okay detectives, let me make this abundantly clear. I have not killed Sam Clayton, I have not paid anyone to do it for me, and I don’t have any idea as to who has done this. I have, without a shadow of a doubt, zero percent involvement in his well-deserved, yet untimely, demise.”
I sit back in the crappy metal chair with a little too much oomph, and it makes a loud scraping sound as it slides slightly backward on the barren concrete floor.
“Forgive me, Mr. Kingsley, if your word is just not enough evidence for me. Don’t get me wrong, in the eyes of the law you are innocent until proven guilty. And for now, nobody is accusing you of any wrongdoing. But until someone is proven to be guilty, nobody will be excluded as a suspect.”
I want to tell that scrawny idiot a whole lot of things. I want to tell him that if the police had actually done their job today, none of this shit would have happened. I want to tell this ignorant piece of shit that if I wanted to kill that piece of human trash, I would have gladly done so, only they would have never known. I want to explain to him that their incompetency to do their goddamn job months ago nearly cost me my sister and Raeva. But instead, I simply nod.
“That is perfectly acceptable, detective. And I know I have nothing to worry about then.”
“Are there any more questions you need to ask my client at this time, detectives?”
Detectives Franklin and Taylor turn to face each other, silently questioning one another. Wally turns to face me.
“That will be all,” he grunts. “For now.”
I half expect him to tell me not to leave town. Instead he rises to his feet, followed by the lanky one. I stand and offer my hand.
“Well then, detectives. If we are clear here, I will not take any more of your time away from finding out who has actually done this.” I almost don’t finish my thought, but I do. “Oh, and detectives, if there is anything I can do to assist you with your investigation, please don’t hesitate to contact Mr. Hardwick or me. I’d like this to be resolved quickly so that my sister and my girlfriend can have some peace of mind.”
I shake both detectives’ hands and nod.
“Gentlemen,” Hardwick says as we leave the room.
We make our way through the police station, and I pull out my cell phone to let Sean know that I am ready to go when I remember that I had him take Raeva to the penthouse. Suddenly I am even more eager to get the hell out of here.
“Well, that was interesting,” I grumble.
“That it was,” Eric concedes.
The second I see Clark making his way toward us, I already know it is going to take a long damn time. Eric meets my gaze.
“Fucking papz,” we say in unison.
This is the fucking last thing I need right now, after the day—and not to mention night—I’ve had, all I want is to bury myself in my woman and not come up for air until tomorrow. Eric and I have been friends our entire lives, so I would hardly qualify him as a friend. He’s family, and until very recently, he has been—besides Mik—the person that knew me better than most. A man in my position cannot trust many people. I have had three people that I can implicitly trust, and now Raeva makes four. Although that number seems low, for a man like me, being able to completely trust someone is priceless. And believe me, I treasure these people more than anything I own. Being this close and spending this much time together, we know each other well, and we had our fair share of run-ins with the scumbag paparazzi. At the same time, we’ve also had some fun shaking them off. I remember several elaborate schemes to rid ourselves of those pests. Just about any other day I am ready to give these assholes hell, but I am spent today, and I know that Eric can tell. He pulls out his phone and punches in a message. It isn’t long at all before he gets a reply. He mumbles something to Clark, who simply nods in response before he turns on his heel.
“You fucking owe me big time for this, Kingsley,” he grumbles.
I am not sure why he thinks that I am on the same wavelength right now, but I have no idea what the fuck he’s talking about.
“Give me your coat,” Hardwick demands.
“My coat? Why?”
“Stop wasting time, and give me your damn coat. We are switching places. If we time this right, we can fool them for at least long enough for you to get away.”
I raise my eyebrow, eyeing him skeptically.
“We look nothing alike. Like, not even a little.”
He gives me that look, the same look he throws my way when we are in a business meeting and he wants me to know that he’s got this. I stop questioning him and shrug out of my jacket.
“Clark is pulling the car around back, and the papz will follow him. I will hold your coat to shield myself and bolt to the car. I will then have Clark speed off. Sean will pick you up in a bit; he’s already on his way.”
I think about it for a second. It’s a pretty decent plan, and it’ll get me to where I want to be—which obviously is with Raeva—the fastest. I thank him and watch him make his way out of the building. I can’t help but want to follow and see how this will play out. The door has not even fully closed yet before I see him break out in big strides. I watch the photographers scramble to simultaneously snap a pick and gather their crap so they can follow. Eric makes it to the car before any of them realize that it isn’t me, and as promised, the car speeds off mere seconds after he jumps in it. It does the trick because they all file out, scrambling like chickens with their heads cut off. I’m actually impressed by how fast they get their shit together and follow in pursuit. Sean pulls up mere minutes after this, grinning at me widely.
“So, you two pulled off a Prince and Pauper?” he chuckles.
“It would seem to be the case,” I say, smiling just as big. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
Sean pulls into traffic smoothly.
“Don’t worry, sir. I will have you with her in a jiffy,” he says as he looks at me through the rearview.
I feel the smirk before I realize I have that goofy grin plastered on my face. Knowing I am going to have my woman in my arms soon does that to me, along with the impatience to get to her.
“Step on it,” I urge.
He chuckles.
“Aye aye, sir!”
When I get to the apartment I feel her presence. It’s hard to explain, but it feels like the air is lighter, and a warmth spreads through me that originates from the very tips of my toes. I take big strides through the dimly lit living room and make my way to the master bedroom. Disappointment sinks in rapidly when I find the bed to be empty. I step farther into the room to investigate. I know she is here; I can feel her presence. The door to the adjoining master bathroom is slightly ajar, and I can see some light coming from there. She must be in there. I undo my tie as I walk to over to the bathroom. When I get closer, I hear some soft music over the speakers. I don’t know this song, so Raeva must have synced her playlist. I gently push the door open and step into the bathroom. The aroma is the first thing I notice, the musky fragrance of the scented oil lingering around me and tickling my nostrils. She has lit candles and placed them all around the bathroom, creating a dusky glow. There is a glass of champagne sitting on the edge of the tub, but it seems to be untouched. Raeva is lying in the tub, head back, eyes closed. I don’t think she has heard me come in. I stand here and watch her bite her bottom lip and slightly suck it into her mouth. Her breasts are slightly peeking out of the water. Her nipples are hard, and I am dying to suck them into my own mouth. I start ridding myself of my own garments, and just as I shed my boxer briefs and take a step toward her, she moans. I stop dead in my tracks. I watch her intently.
After Tomorrow (Kingsley series Book 2) Page 3