‘But. You. Can’t. Be. Sure,’ I say angrily, tears still rolling down my face.
‘Christ! Stop crying!’ He’s pissed. Every muscle in his body is tensed, the sinews of his neck are taut and his square jaw is set. He takes a deep breath and rubs a hand over his face. ‘Please stop crying. Please. You’re killing me.’
His browns soften when he lowers to my level. He takes my hands and puts them around his neck. ‘I know that you want to do the right thing. I know that you feel like you’ve done the wrong thing but you haven’t. I’ve shattered your world, Scarlett.Idid this toyou. I brought everything on you and you have to let me protect you now. Trust me. This won’t go to trial. It’ll be over soon.’
He leads me to the sofa and sits us both down so I’m resting in his lap. Jackson limps to join us and sits onto the coffee table in front of the sofa. ‘Scarlett, this is a world you don’t know and you don’t understand. You need to trust Gregory and me, okay?’
For some unbeknown reason, I do trust them both, so I nod, but it’s anything other than okay.
Jackson holds my attention and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. ‘If you change your story now, I can’t help us. You’ll put us all in jeopardy and that’s just one more charge we’d have to deal with.’
He’s right. I couldn’t see it before but he’s right. If I go to DI Barnes now, I don’t just confess that I did wrong; I tell him that Jackson and Gregory lied too.
I sniff back the last of my tears and climb off Gregory’s lap. ‘I get it.’
‘Where’re you going?’ Gregory asks.
I wipe my cheeks and pull my shoulders back. ‘I’m about to hire you the best goddamn KC I know. Get your cheque book ready.’
Gregory stands from the sofa. ‘We discussed lawyers last night. Lawyers imply I have something to hide.’
‘No, Gregory, lawyers bend the law and by fucking God do you need someone to bend the law right now.’
‘Which one?’ I ask, looking around the multitude of GR and GJR number plates in the basement. GR 1. GR 10. GJR 1. GJR 10. GJR 9.
‘Lamborghini.’ The lights flash on the bright-yellow car when Gregory presses a key in its direction.
I climb – or rather fall – inside and for the brief moment I’m afforded alone, I let my head roll back against the leather seat, trying to absorb everything that’s passed in the last twenty-four hours but unable to shift my focus far from the wordsshe can move on.
Gregory loosens the buttons of his navy trench coat and slips into the driver seat as if he isn’t only inches from the ground. He eases the Lamborghini to motion and my eyes follow the movements of his hands as he sets the car into reverse and manoeuvres out of the car park with just one hand on the wheel. A small move that’s irrationally sexy. We drive in painful silence for what feels like an eternity.
‘I should probably go to see Sandy later,’ I say.
He glances briefly at me before returning his focus to the road ahead. ‘Not tonight.’
‘I think I should see her sooner rather than later. I’ve got no idea how she’ll react.’
The Lamborghini hurtles into a bus lane before the brakes are slammed, crashing me forward against my seat belt. Gregory’s eyes are dark and bulging with fury. When he swallows, his tense jaw releases slightly. He’s fighting against rage.
‘You understand you can’t tell Sandy the truth, don’t you?’
I open my mouth but no words materialise.
‘Scarlett, you can’t tell anyone the truth.’
‘But I tell Sandy everything.’
He breathes an exasperated sigh and his near-black irises recede back to brown. ‘Everyone you tell is a risk. To us and to themselves.’
‘Sandy would never say anything. She might hate me, probably will hate me, but she wouldn’t say anything.’
His hand lifts to my cheek and I lean into him. ‘Why on earth would she hate you?’
‘She practically raised me, Gregory, and she didn’t raise a killer.’
He snaps his hand away and throws his head back against his seat, almost inhaling the word, ‘Fuck.’
I don’t move, not knowing how to react. Then he flicks the car back into gear and swings us back onto the road, driving much faster than is safe or necessary.
