Chapter 15
Jack
“Sorry, babe.”
“For what?” Completely naked, my wife hops out of bed, still smelling of last night’s sex.
“That was Slate. Get dressed.” I barely have enough time to pull up my jeans before Grayson pounds on our bedroom door.
“You awake?” His voice, thank God, is calm.
“Give us a minute.” I turn to my lovely wife, her beautiful baby bump making the knot in my throat grow bigger. She deserves so much better than me. Her lips are swollen, her hair mussed from last night’s incredible love-making, and it breaks my fucking heart to tell her. “I’m being arrested.”
“For what?” As if she can somehow help, she jumps into a pair of sweatpants, throws my shirt over her head and opens the door for Gray.
“Did you do it?” Face grim, he steps into the room.
“Hell no, I didn’t do it.”I may have thought about it once or twice.
“Do what?” Mount Vesuvius about to erupt, Blakely glances back and forth between us.
I grab my boots, plop on the bed, and force them over bare feet. “He thinks I killed Yan.”
“You were looking for him.” Gray still hasn’t learned his unblinking stare has absolutely no effect on me.
“Looking is the operative word. I waslookingfor Yan and he was nowhere to be found.” I tug my t-shirt over my head and stand.
“I wouldn’t blame you if you-”
“But I didn’t. Fuck. I wouldn’t take that risk. I got a bun in the oven.” I pat Blake’s belly and pull her into my arms. Then, I kiss the tip of her nose while my boss pulls out his cell phone.
“I’ve already called Andy and he just texted back. He’ll represent you and is on his way to DC. In the meantime, he says you should turn yourself in but say nothing.”
Blake takes a step toward Grayson, “Why do they think it was Jack. What evidence do they have?”
“Besides punching him in the men’s room last night?” When Grayson hesitates, I wonder for a second if he’s going to tell her so I finish for him.
“The bullet they dug out of Yan’s skull was from your gun.”
She pales, wobbles and sits. God damn it. I should’ve broken it to her more gently.
While sitting, she focuses on the opposite wall at a framed photo of the Vietnam war memorial. “No way. I gave my gun to… oh shit.”
Fuck yeah, oh shit.I turn to Grayson’s raised brows. “She gave her gun to the man in the tunnel, Philip.”
“Fuck.” He rubs his chin, shaking his head back and forth.
“What? It’s good news, isn’t it? That means Jack didn’t do it.”
I take a deep breath, knowing she’s going to be pissed. “The Feds think you made him up.”
Her face turns red and her eyes blaze as she follows us into the kitchen. “Why the fuck would I do that?”
“Do what?” Isabella pours coffee and hands out mugs.
“Make up a pretend kidnap victim.”
“Doesn’t seem logical to me.”
