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I shake my head. “That’s exactly what I told him,” I cry. “I lied to him, Danny.”

I don’t say what I lied to him about. I don’t admit that I told Samuel it was always him, when truthfully, it’s always been the man holding me right now.

And I hate him, but I hate me more. I put my face in my hands as a painful sob rolls from my throat, and then sickness rises, and I puke.

Acid burns my throat, and I spit, wiping my mouth with my hand.

No one says anything at first, and then Paul says, “Jesus, get her up.”

I’m lifted again, unable to fight anymore. Once in the car, I look out at the shop with its broken windows.

“Here,” Johnny says, handing me a towel. I grab it, wiping my face and blowing my nose. Cops move in and out, yellow tape is hung, and Paul speaks with some detective. All the while, a bottle rests under a table with a note in it, and I pray they don’t find it because I need to know what it says. I need to know who did this and what kind of message they were sending.

Were those bullets meant for me? Was I supposed to die instead of Samuel? Tears fall down my face, and I bow my head.

“You know Bones will find out who did this, Bexley. This won’t go unpunished.”

I sit up. “Bones?” I ask. “You mean Danny?”

He doesn’t answer me as Danny opens the car door and gets in, looking over at me. “Get us out of here, Sweep.”

Sweep?

Bones?

What are these names?

“The fuck is Trig?” Danny says as Sweep hauls ass away from the crime scene.

Oh, God. Crime scene.

“I don’t know. He left the bar earlier. Maybe he’s at the warehouse.”

I look out the window as heartache slides down my face.

“Call him and see,” Danny says.

The sun has gone away.

The sky is a blue black as it transitions from day to night, just as my world transitions from life to death. Johnny speaks. “He’s at the warehouse.”

Danny doesn’t respond to Johnny. Instead, he talks to me. “I’m going to let you be for the moment. But soon, you will talk to me. For now, we’ll go get his ring.”

Chapter Thirty

Bexley

2019

I climb into the shower, holding my hands out as the scalding water washes away my husband’s blood. It rains down, coloring the water in crimson heartache. I run my hands down my face, my tears chapping my skin. Life will never be the same for me. I grab the locket necklace I have around my neck, running my fingers over his ring that now resides there.

After my freak-out, Johnny drove us to the hospital and I was able to get Samuel’s wedding band before I insisted they take me home.

Not without a fight.

“You’re not going to your fucking house, Bexley.”

“You’re not going to tell me what to, Danny.”