Dash chuckled and lowered his laptop bag to his chair. Before he walked away, he caught sight of the morning newspaper Eliott had left for him. The large, bold banner headline read:
Macklin Found Dead
He snatched the paper and unfolded it. Just under the headline was a large photo of Charles Macklin on the night he’d been frog-marched into jail by none other than one Emerson Walker. Dash gazed at the determined stare on Emerson’s face and the hint of satisfaction curving the corners of the alpha’s mouth.
His full,sensualmouth. He smiled, imaging those fantasy kisses from earlier in the morning. If he’d had the paper in hand, maybe he’d have been able to get back into things properly.
I bet he’s an amazing kisser. Too bad I passed on giving him a test run.
Dash slid his thumb over the photo before shaking himself.
He tore his gaze from Emerson, curious regarding what had befallen Charles. Dash had obsessively followed the news over the disgraced serial arsonist, just like the rest of the province—though he did havea littleskin in the game. At Harrison’s request, he’d gone with Cassidy to collect some of Charles’s DNA. While they’d failed, he’d called in a favor and gotten it another way.
Dash would’ve loved to attend the trial, but Charles’s attorneys had argued—and won—a change of venue. Bullet train or not, he’d been working another case and had had no time to go to Port Sacramenti to witness it firsthand.
Had he known it would only last less than a couple of hours, he might’ve gone. Shockingly, Charles had pleaded guilty to the string of arsons and all the other related charges pertaining to his attack on Harrison, Raimy, and Cassidy—as well as the assault on his partner, Davis, and two other bodyguards in his employ.
A month later and Charles was dead? That seemed…suspicious.
Officials at Fort Seattle Penitentiary have confirmed that Charles J. Macklin was found dead in his cell in the early hours of Monday morning. The convicted arsonist had started his life sentence just weeks prior. No cause of death has been announced. An autopsy and investigation are pending.
Insiders close to the case suggest foul play might be involved. On the day of his trial, Macklin was witnessed to have extensive bruising and wounds to his face, hands, and neck. Given that some were quoted to be faded, it suggestsongoing attacks which have prison reform advocates calling for an investigation. Officials refuse to comment on whether Macklin was a victim of regular abuse by either guards or fellow convicts—or if that abuse continued after the trial.
There are reports Macklin may have been moved to solitary confinement before his death, leading some to suspect death by suicide. Those suspicions have yet to be confirmed.
Dash lowered the newspaper and refolded it. Something felt… off about the whole situation—from the guilty plea to the recent demise. It didn’t pass his sniff test.
“Did you forget the conference room?”Eliott asked from the doorway.
Dash looked over at Eliott and lifted the paper, showing off the headline. “I assume you’ve read this?”
Eliott scoffed. “It’s been everywhere all morning. Had you not already heard?”
Dash leveled Eliott a bored gaze. “I overslept. I didn’t have time to check the news before heading out.”
“And listened to one of your boring podcasts on the way in?”
Dash scoffed.
“Still not sleeping?” Eliott asked, a frown furrowing his brow.
“Oh,I’m sleeping. Just not when I’m supposed to be,” Dash replied. He gazed at the front page again. Some of his sleepless nights were the fault of a man in that photo. The alpha, not the arsonist. A lot of people were going to rest easier knowing Charles Macklin was dead.
If he’s really dead.
“If you ask me, I bet he’s still alive,” Eliott said.
Dash’s gaze whipped to Eliott’s.
“A man with that much moneyanda history of bribery? How much you wanna bet he paid off some Guards and now he’s onhis way to some exotic vacation spot to live out his days under a tropical sun. Some poor soul will end up in his grave, face beaten to hell to hide it really isn’t Charles.”
That exact thought had been whispering at the edges of Dash’s mind, but he wasn’t sure an exotic vacation spot was where he’d place his wager. Not at first, anyway. Charles was known to inside circles to be a vengeful asshole—and who would Macklin likely want to see pay most?
Harrison Walker and his mates.
I should check in. Make sure they’re all staying vigilant.
Or was that just an excuse to see Emerson again? That alpha was the most dangerous man in the world for him. He’d avoided the Walker clan since Macklin had been caught. That needed to continue.
