But he’s not going to fuck with Kira.
I’ll put a bullet in him myself if I have to.
I sit for so long, picturing it in my head on loop, tasting the satisfaction, that when an unmarked car pulls in front of Kira’s house, it takes me too long to sit forward.
My blood runs cold as a man steps out and surveys the house. I’ve been in this business long enough to know that, without a doubt, the man in wrinkled slacks and a dingy white button-up is a detective.
Fuck me.
Of course she would wait for her sister to leave. Of course. I shake my head and grab onto the door handle, watching as the detective walks up the drive, my mind working overtime. If I insert myself, it’s only a matter of time before I’m connected. That doesn’t bode well. But if I don’t, and Kira throws me under the bus, then I’ll be getting rid of the body of another cop tonight. And another missing cop will only cause more trouble.
Shit.
With no time to spare, I pull open the glove box and grab my flask. The bourbon burns as I chug it, essentially wasting the seven-hundred-dollar liquid with haste. I pour some onto my hands and rub my jeans before throwing it onto the passenger seat. Wrenching down the visor, I check my reflection before aggressively rubbing at my eyes until they turn red. A couple shuffles through my hair and a tug at my shirt later, I’m out of the car.
I make sure to stumble as I pass by the unmarked cruiser—in case there’s dash footage—but when I make it up the drive, Kira is already standing in the open doorway, a shaky hand motioning the detective inside.
This fucking girl.
She’s going to be the death of me.
Doesn’t she know you neverwillinglylet the police in your house? Even if she’s the one who called them, this is common knowledge. It’s the first thing you learn in law school.
I’ll teach her that lesson later. First, I need to get rid of this badge.
“Who the fa-wk is this?!” I bellow just as Kira notices me over the detective’s shoulder.
Her eyes widen as the detective turns.
“You think you’re—” I stumble on an invisible crack. “Gonna fuck my girl?” I point a wobbly finger at him. “Is this who you call when I’m not here?” I ask Kira with a sneer.
Her mouth opens and closes, but I don’t give her an opportunity to find her voice before I stagger between them, cutting off his entry.
“Sir, have you been drinking?” the detective takes a step back, his hand going to rest on his gun.
“Have you been fa-wking my girl?” I counter.
“Sir, I’m Detective Layton, and I’m here to ask a couple questions.”
“‘Bout what?” I grab onto the door frame to ‘steady’ myself, further blocking him and locking Kira behind me. “You ain’t talking to my girl.”
Kira seems too stupefied by my antics to say anything, thank fuck. The last thing I need is her causing even more of a scene. If this guy thinks I’m abusive, I’ll be hauled off for a night in a cell.
Not that I would be there long.
But still, I don’t like being locked up.
“Right,” the detective says. “It will only take a moment, and you can be,” he grimaces, “present.”
Fucking hell. I suppress an eye roll. He’s younger than expected, a little too green for my liking. If he was older, my stunt would be too much trouble. Everyone likes to think detectives are these hard-working, get-to-the-bottom-of-a-case types that bring work files home with them, but in actuality, the longer they’ve been on the force, the more burnt out they are. And the less likely they are to push when met with shove.
“Damn right, I’m gonna be ph-easant,” I slur, embarrassing myself and internally wanting to put a bullet in my head..
Fucking Kira. If this was any other situation where I was face-to-face with a detective nosing around, I would tell him to ask his superior about the Landons and come back if he still feels like it after. But tossing around the Landon name will only alert James to Kira’s existence—if Arnold hasn’t already—and then James will start digging.
Hopefully, I can turn this around. If Kira tries to implicate me in the killing of her frail neighbor, I’ll just say she’s trying to get back at me for sleeping with her friend. It’s a flimsy cover, but I have to try. If not, Kira’s going to find out just what happens when you try to expose a Landon, because nothing she tries to pin on me will stick, and instead will nail her own coffin.
“Mind if I come in?” Detective Layton asks.
