But the knife sticking out of his chest was new.
I swallowed, but couldn’t seem to take in any air. Whetherfrom an excess of alcohol or a lack of oxygen, the edges of my vision darkened and my body trembled. The female cop pulled me along. We squeezed past two men in suits and a couple of men in white jumpsuits. I glanced back, catching one final glimpse of the body.
Just yesterday, Kirk Miller had terminated my employment and I’d—very publicly, in front of the entire office—told him right wherehe could stick my job. In fact, I’d even offered to do it for him. Now his dead body was propped against the wall outside my apartment, making it clear that in the endIwas the one getting screwed. Talk about irony.
* * *
Addison
The buzz of my cellphone dragged me away from my dreamy make-out session with Charlie Hunnam, and when I glanced at my alarm clock, I swore. “Someone betterbe dead,” I answered.
“Addie,” Dylan rasped. “I’m in jail.”
I rubbed my eyes and frowned. “What the hell do you mean, you’re ‘in jail’?”
“Kirk the...” Her voice cracked.
“Kirk-the-Jerk?” My blood pressure spiked. “What’d he do this time?”
“He was right outside my apartment this morning and—”
“What?!” Had he been there all night? Dylan was so wasted, she wouldn’t have noticed if she’d stumbledover him to let herself in. I wanted to shake her for insisting that the limo driver didn’t need to walk her to her door. “I don’t care how independent you think you are, from now on Jimmy is walking you all the way to your apartment, you hear me?”
She sniffed.
Something was seriously wrong. I softened my tone and asked, “So why are you at the jail? Filing a restraining order?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then what, exactly?” Seriously, sometimes trying to get information out of Dylan was like getting a rectal exam. Tight and unyielding.
“Addie, Kirk’s dead.”
“Dead?” The word refused to set in. “As in, figuratively?”
“No. Dead as in literally, and I’ve been arrested for his murder. I need an attorney. Like yesterday.”
“Shit, you’re serious?” I sat up. “That’s crazy.” And complete bullshit,because my bestie was smart. If she was going to kill anyone, she’d call me and set up an alibi.
“Unfortunately, yes. I’m at the Multnomah County Detention Center. Do you think Ash will help me?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course he’ll help you. We’ll both be right there.”
“Thanks,” she whispered.
“Hey, it’s going to be okay,” I promised.
“Okay. I’ll see you soon.”
She hung up and I dialedAsher. He didn’t answer so I was forced to leave a voice mail. “Ashey, Dylan’s been arrested. I need you to meet me at the MCDC, ASAP.”
I hung up, took the fastest shower in history and, after haphazardly throwing clothes on my body, grabbed my keys just as my phone rang. “Hey, Ashey.”
“What the hell is going on?” he demanded.
I hurried through the hall and caught the elevator down to the parkinggarage while I filled him in and we agreed to meet at the jail.
My father had given me a Mercedes as a guilt offering for not being present for my sixteenth birthday—or any of my other birthdays for that matter (he provided a brand new version of my Mercedes each year). I hated to drive, though, so I usually called his limo driver, Jimmy, to cart me around. No time for that now, I hopped intomy Merc and stepped on the gas. My condo was in the Pearl, not far from the jail, but I still broke a few speed laws to get to Dylan. The parking gods blessed me with a close space, and I paid for my ticket, stuck it to my window, and rushed into the building. Asher was already there and requesting to see his “client.”
