Holy shit. That’s impressive. And fucking terrifying.
I sit up straighter against the couch and swing my legs around. The soles of my feet press into the plush carpet to keep me grounded. Hawkeye jumps down and darts toward the back door.
“Who the hell thinks of that?”
Shit. Those are inside thoughts, Daphne!
I clamp my hand over my mouth as Guy laughs.
“I can be creative when I have time to mull it over,” he says.
“Wouldn’t it have been easier to shoot him?”
God, Daphne. What the hell? Am I seriously giving him suggestions on improving his murder skills?
“I don’t use guns,” Guy says. “My brother’s a doctor.He’s devoted his life to healing people with bullet wounds. I promised him I wouldn’t add to that.”
So, he’s a killer with a conscience. And a brother. Something about that makes Guy seem… less psycho. More human.
“So, the police spoke to you?” he asks.
“You mean, did I tell them anything? No. And yes, everyone was interviewed by the cops. That’s why it took me three hours to get home.”
“Tell me about it. Paint a picture.” His voice lifts in amusement, like he’s asked me to tell him a fucking knock-knock joke and not how I witnessed a murder. Onehecommitted.
“What’s there to paint? I already told you. He collapsed. He spilled his drink all over my shoes. No way can I clean brown soda out of my white suede sandals.”
“Daph,” his tone pulls me away from my footwear and mentally into a moment I don’t want to dwell on.
“His wife gave him the injection. Everyone stood around waiting for a few minutes, but it didn’t get any better. By the time the ambulance got there, he was in bad shape, but there were so many people surrounding him that I couldn’t see anything. The EMTs thought he’d been injected with the EpiPen, so it took them a while to get him into the ambulance. After that, we were instructed to wait for the police. I was one of the last ones to get interviewed since they spoke with the family first, then my parents, then it was a hierarchy of whose time they could afford to waste the least.”
“I’m surprised they didn’t interview you with your parents.” And he sounds genuinely surprised. Maybe he forgot that the First Daughter doesn’t matter.
“They’re the important ones. Being a congressional aide means nothing. D.C. is swarming with them.”
“Sounds like you hate your job.”
I bite back a sarcastic laugh before it slips out. “Not all of us have the freedom to do what we want. I didn’t get to pick my career. Dad wanted someone planted in Furt’s office. Having me sit there day after day reminds Furt that Dad has him by the balls. My book accounts don’t bring in much money. I didn’t want to go to law school like Dad. I’m too fat for OnlyFans, so there goes my porn career.”
Guy’s belly laugh forces a smile to my face, one I can’t tamper down, no matter how hard I try. It’s like there shouldn’t be a care in the world if he’s laughing.
“Don’t count that out yet, Princess. If you want to start a porn career, I’m happy to be your co-star.”
“But then you’d have to show your face. Are you ugly or something? Is that why you won’t show me what you look like?”
His dark chuckle shakes my lower belly. “Princess, you haven’t proven yourself worthy of seeing my gorgeous face. Patience is a virtue.”
“What makes you think I’m virtuous?”
“I’m hoping you’re not. Otherwise, we’ll have a boring OnlyFans.”
I don’t like the way my lower belly is flipping like a pancake at the thought of Guy in a masked porno with me. “Speaking of boring,” I say to divert the subject from porn. “Who were you today? A bartender? One of the Secret Service agents?”
Curiosity has me itching to know exactly who he was and if I’d noticed him. I checked every single person I interacted with, but none of them looked familiar. None of themfeltfamiliar. I thought maybe hearing him speak, I’d recognize him, but he gave me nothing to work with.
“The less you know, the better, Princess. Did they find my gift for McArthur?”
“Gift?”
