“She’s lying!” Jaxon cuts in. “That’s not what happened.”
Kenzo and Priscilla exchange a glance, and they’re acting like he’s not even there, which is so fucked up, considering he’s the one who tried and failed to save a man. Who watched him plummet to his death. He doesn’t deserve this.
“I tried to stop him.” He looks around. “Please, you have to believe me.”
For a moment, no one speaks. Then Priscilla looks past Jaxon to Kenzo.
“Do you think he could have jumped?”
“From grief? Or guilt?” asks Kenzo.
Cate frowns. “You really think he could have killed his wife?”
This is a lifeline; Jaxon knows he should grab it with both hands. Change his story, say that he’d seen something in Malcolm’s eyes—desolation or resolve or some combination of the two. He knows he should say whatever it takes.
But he can’t do it.
Even if Malcolm was an asshole. Even if he tried to accuse Jaxon of pushing Sienna down the stairs. Kenzo said he thought the man was searching for a suspect to save himself, but Jaxon doesn’t think Malcolm killed his wife. He’s known men willing to hurt women—hell, his father was one—and Malcolm didn’t have it in him.
“He didn’t kill Sienna,” he says.
Millie’s eyes go wide. “How do you know? Unless you did that, too.”
Jaxon rolls his eyes. “Seriously?”
“What? You’re the one who talked about improving the odds! Knocking out the competition.”
“It was a joke!” he shouts, throwing up his hands. “I make shitty jokes when I’m anxious. So sue me.”
Priscilla, at least, seems to hear him. She levels her gaze at Millie and asks, in a slow, clear voice. “Are yousureyou saw Jaxon push Malcolm?”
“No, she’s not,” snaps Jaxon. But that only earns him a sea of scornful looks from everyone but Millie, who’s now looking at the floor.
“I mean, it happened so fast. But I’m pretty sure...”
Jaxon can’t take it. “Look, believe women and all that—I’m a feminist—but this is total bullshit. Ididn’tpush Malcolm off the cliff, so first of all, fuck you guys for even thinking that’s something I would do. Truly, fuck you to the moon and back. And secondly, fuckoneof you in particular because one of yousawwhat really happened.”
Millie’s head jerks up, but he seems to be the only one that catches her surprise.
Kenzo frowns. “What do you mean?”
He jabs a finger at the ceiling. “One of you was in that room upstairs, the one at the very top.” He looks from Kenzo, to Cate, to Priscilla. “And whoever it was, I saw you. Which means you saw us. So you know I was trying to save Malcolm, not push him over the edge.”
“The room at the top?” asks Priscilla, looking around.
It’s Kenzo who answers. “Fletch’s room. But I doubt anyone was up there.”
“Oh yeah?” sneers Jaxon. “Why’s that?”
* * *
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, IT’SLOCKED?”
Jaxon runs his hand over the hidden door, pushing to see if it will bounce open like those fancy kitchen cabinets that don’t have any handles. But the door doesn’t give.
“How did you know it was here?” asks Cate.
“Yeah,” echoes Jaxon, thinking it’s about time someone looked at Kenzo instead of him. The question is almost enough to wipe that smug, self-righteous look off Kenzo’s face.
