Page 58 of Freeing Denver

“Ready?” I ask, and Denver nods, taking a breath as we step off the plane.

Taf is close behind me. “JJ is waiting with the car.”

It’s close to midnight, so the private airspace should be relatively empty, but it’s not. Two cars are waiting for us, and neither of them are JJ.

They’re police cars.

We reach the tarmac, and a man in a gray suit approaches. He’s a little older than I am, brown hair tinged with silver. “Denver Luxe?”

“What is this?” I ask.

He ignores me, remaining focused on Denver. “Are you Denver Luxe?”

“Yes,” she says quietly.

“You’re under arrest for the murder of Vincent Capelli Jr.” His words become a blur as he turns her, placing her hands on the hood of the car as he reads her rights.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I shove him back, but someone pulls me away. I recognize Taf’s voice in my ear, telling me not to get arrested, too. “She didn’t kill anyone!”

The officer hauls Denver off the car, and she’s calmer than I am, even as the color drains from her cheeks.

“I’ll be right behind you, Del,” I say, and she nods as she’s placed in the back of the police car.

This cannot be fucking happening. As if we don’t have enough to deal with. A murder charge, her third, is not what we need.

“Let’s go,” Taf says. “The sooner we get to her, the better.”

We find JJ, who was mid-argument with another cop, meaning he couldn’t warn us about what was waiting. Fuckers. I sit in the passenger seat, heart beating quick as I call my lawyer and try to make sense of what just happened.

Why now? What sudden evidence has come up for Denver to get arrested? Vince died weeks ago. He’s dead and fucking buried. The case wasn’t closed, but we had people running circles around the detective heading the investigation.

What was her name? Quinn something.

“A call this late from Colt Harland is never good,” Reid, my lawyer, mumbles as he answers. “What’s Charlie done now?”

“Not Charlie,” I say. “Call me back when you’ve had a cold shower. I need you alert and ready to go.”

“Why?”

“Because my wife just got arrested.”

I hang up and dial the next number.

“Did I hear you right?” Taf asks, his head whipping from me to the road. “How are you married? Ranger didn’t agree to a divorce, did he?”

“They were never married. Long story.” I hold the phone to my ear.

Alistair answers fast. “Yep?”

“Denver was just arrested for Vince’s murder. I need you to call whoever we have on the force to get rid of whatever evidence they have,” I say.

He pauses. “Sure. I’ll get on it.”

The drive feels like a fever dream. There’s never any time to grieve, to absorb, to get over the constant upheaval of our fucking lives. It never stops, and I’m beyond exhausted but unwilling to lie down, especially if it means I could lose her.

Heads turn as I stride into the station. I recognize the cop on duty as one of ours. Melody Arnold. Not a rookie, but not far off. She has student debts and was an easy buy.

“Denver Luxe,” I say. “Where she is?”