Crossed: Chapter 33

I’M SITTING AT A LONG CONFERENCE TABLE IN Parker’s office, staring at a TV at the head of the room.

Parker sits to my right, his hand on the back of my chair. My lawyer Jason is across from us on the other side of the table, and for some reason, Cade is here, having been with Parker when I arrived.

I hadn’t wanted Cade to know about the whole murder thing, but c’est la vie, I guess. Cat’s out of the bag now anyway.

It’s been two and a half weeks since Andrew died, and his murder hit the news today.

There’s a beautiful woman on the screen, two small children with her. One is a boy with bouncy blond hair and the other a tiny baby, can’t be more than a few months old. A microphone is shoved in the woman’s face, and someone off to the side hands her a tissue to dab the tears from her eyes.

My stomach is in my throat.

Andrew wasn’t an important man, just a midlevel banker from downtown Coddington Heights, but it doesn’t matter. Drama is drama, and they’re spinning this as something even more grotesque than what I ever imagined.

“The similarities between Andrew Gleeson’s death and that of Candace Walker, a woman from Festivalé, are striking. But is there a connection? Or just coincidence? For now, the lead detective on the case says they’re not sure.”

God, the way my panic is making me spiral.

A serial killer.

They can’t possibly think it’s me.

But it wasn’t exactly a secret that Candace and I didn’t get along, and I have connections to both of the victims.

The TV switches back from the voice- over to Andrew’s wife. “We just want to know what happened. Whoever did this…” She swipes beneath her eyes with the handkerchief and looks directly in the camera. “I hope you rot in hell.”

Her voice cracks and it sends guilt cascading through me, almost like I did do something wrong, even though I’m innocent.

“Turn it off.” Cade’s voice is ice.

I don’t look over at him because I’m not sure why he’s even here. But I wish he wasn’t.

Jason and Parker both ignore him, and Jason’s eyes meet mine.

“Look, it doesn’t matter what they’re saying— ”

“They’re saying a lot,” I cut in, my voice shaking.

“Doesn’t matter,” he repeats. “The evidence isn’t there.”

My leg bounces beneath the table, and my eyes go back to the TV screen.

“I said turn. It. Off,” Cade demands.

The temperature in the room drops, the cold slicing through the air like a knife, dragging across my skin.

Jason clears his throat uncomfortably and leans forward, grabbing the remote and shutting it down.

“The way both of you sit here and are willfully ignorant to how badly she wishes to be anywhere else,” Cade hisses, throwing a hand toward me.

I suck in a breath, my eyes widening as I stare at him. What is he doing?

“She can hardly sit still, and you both speak above her as though she can’t hear. Like it isn’t her life on the line. It’s despicable.”

Parker stiffens, his arm growing rigid behind me. “Jason’s the best. There’s nothing to worry about.”

My eyes flick up to meet Cade’s, and my heart feels like it might beat out of my chest. His face is hard as stone, his hands steepled and jaw tensing over and over.

“Do you think my name will get leaked?” I ask, forcing myself to look away.

“Again, you’re not a suspect,” Jason says. “Just a person of interest.” Jason must see my unease because he shakes his head, his brown hair ruffling from the movement. “They don’t have anything tangible. And even if they did…”

Parker’s hand moves from behind my chair, dropping on my shoulder and rubbing possessive circles over my skin. I can feel Cade staring.

“You have me,” Parker finishes.

Jason nods. “Your husband is a powerful man, Amaya. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Fiancé,” Cade corrects.

All of us whip our heads in his direction, and my stomach tightens, wondering again what the hell he’s doing. Doesn’t he know how bad him defending me looks? How much Parker already hates him?

I glance at Parker nervously.

“That’s right.” Parker looks over to him with a cold, blank expression. “I’m not her husband yet. But by this weekend, she’ll be in my bed, where she belongs. And you, Father Cade, will be at the church. Because that’s where you belong.”

Cade doesn’t reply, just continues that torturous repetitive ticking of his jaw while he rocks back in the chair.

“I want your word that this won’t go to trial,” Parker says to Jason.

My stomach tenses as I look between them.

Jason hesitates, then nods. “This won’t go to trial.”

Parker reaches over to grab my hand, intertwining our fingers and bringing them up to rest on top of the conference table. My palms are clammy, but he doesn’t seem to mind, his thumb playing with the gigantic rock on my finger.

“Gentlemen, I need a moment alone with my fiancée,” he booms.

Jason jumps up immediately, gathering the papers he has spread across the table and packing them away before he leaves the room like his ass is on fire.

But Cade takes his time.

He stretches out his legs, rubs the scruff on his jaw, and stares at us for long moments before slowly rising to a stand and brushing directly behind our chairs, not bothering to close the door on his way out.

Parker sighs, standing up and walking over to shut it and flick the lock.

“Why was he here?” I ask.

“Who, Father Cade?” Parker lifts a brow as he walks back over.

I nod.

“He heard about you being in trouble and wanted to offer support from the church.”

My stomach drops. “How did he find out?”

Parker shrugs. “Does it matter?”

I already know.

Fucking Florence.

He grabs my hand. “I was serious about what I said, you know? I want you in my home by the end of the week.”

My lungs cramp but I school my reaction quickly, not wanting him to see.

“Father Cade said—”

His fingers tighten on mine. “I don’t give a fuck what Cade said. I’m only putting up with his ridiculous rules because it will look good publicly, but if you think I’ll let you live away from me…that I’ll allow you to escape me now that I have you in my arms, you’re mistaken.”

“That’s not it,” I try to soothe. “I just thought—”

He drops my hand with a scoff, chin raised as he glares down at me. “Do you not wish to marry me, Amaya? Is that it? You want to make me a laughingstock? Use me for my money and resources and not have to hold up your end? Do you think I’m a man who takes kindly to being used and tossed away?”

Panic wraps around my throat like a noose and squeezes. “No. No,” I say firmly. “I do want to marry you.” Desperation clings to me, and I move forward until I’m between his legs. My hands tremble, but I ignore the way they shake as I reach out, stroking the side of his jaw. “I’m sorry.”

I lean in and press a kiss to his stale lips. He doesn’t kiss me back, and deep down I’m thankful for it, but in the moment, I need him to give in. I kiss his lips again.

Slowly, he relaxes, the back of his pointer finger brushing down the side of my face. It’s a soft motion, but it feels like a razor blade.

“You’re lucky I’m such a forgiving man,” he croons. “I don’t want to hurt you, sweet girl. I’ve never wanted to hurt you. But sometimes you leave me no choice.” His finger taps the edge of my chin before he pushes me back so he can stand. “By the way… how’s your friend?” He buttons his suit jacket. “What was her name again? Dalia?”

I pry my tongue from the roof of my mouth. “She’s fine.”

He nods, glancing down the length of me. “You love her, yeah?”

My chest seizes, heart stuttering until I can barely take in a breath. Is he threatening her?

“I only wanted to give Quin some time to get used to the idea, Parker.” My voice trembles. “That’s all I meant.”

Parker’s face softens. “I’ll take care of you and Quinten, Amaya. I’ve promised you that. Trust me.” I swallow back the nausea and smile.