Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 67966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67966 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
This was a man he wanted to fight as much as he wanted to…
“What is this regarding?” Lincoln glared.
The guy scoffed and shook his head as if he’d found the question silly.
“I’m Detective Roz Kelly, and this is my partner Channing Sharpe.” She tucked her identification away. “Does Thorn Blackwell reside here?”
“He does.” Lincoln cut his gaze to her. “But he’s not available.”
“Is he here?” she asked with a bit more authority in her tone.
“Yes…but he’s asleep.”
“Then wake him up,” her partner rumbled.
The command rolled off Sharpe’s tongue in a way that almost dared Lincoln to challenge him.
Damn, he’s fuckin’ sexy.
“Is he under arrest?” Lincoln narrowed his eyes.
“We just wanna to ask him a few questions. We wouldn’t have come all this way at this hour if it wasn’t important,” she reiterated.
“What’s going on, Linc? You okay?” Axel asked, coming to stand close beside him.
He watched as Detective Kelly’s gaze traveled over his bare chest and down his stomach.
He was holding two half-full glasses of champagne in one hand and a plate of strawberries in the other.
Lincoln enviously admitted that Axel looked well-satisfied.
“Thorn Blackwell?” Kelly asked Axel, quirking one of her arched brows.
“No.” Axel turned on his charming smile. “But I can be if you need me to.”
“Lincoln, Axel, who’s at the door?” Thorn asked as he walked into the foyer.
He must have been working late in his office again.
“Sorry, Thorn. I thought you were already in bed. Some detectives are here to see you.” Lincoln glowered at Sharpe. “They said they have some questions they want to ask that couldn’t wait until a respectable hour.”
“What?” Thorn hastened his steps, the heels of his Gucci dress shoes clacking over the white marble floor. “Don’t be rude. Let them in, please.”
Channing Sharpe pushed off the pillar and came directly toward Thorn, pausing in front of Lincoln before he crossed the threshold.
“Nice to see somebody has some manners around here,” he gritted.
Lincoln caught the faint scent of cinnamon and bitter coffee on Sharpe’s breath, hot against his cheek.
It was maddening how quick his attraction was warring with detestation.
Sharpe let out a low whistle as he ventured farther inside. His expression was smug and condescending as he glanced back and forth between him, Axel, and Thorn, then muttered to his partner, “I’m in the wrong fuckin’ profession.”
She threw a warning frown at her partner before she pulled her badge out again.
“We have a few questions for you, Mr. Blackwell, then you all can proceed with your night.”
“Axel, you have company. It’s best not to keep him waiting.” Thorn touched Axel’s cheek. Axel turned and ascended the stairs toward his own condo.
Lincoln didn’t move. He wasn’t usually disrespectful to the police, but Belladonna had been harassed so much by law enforcement and even a few city officials that he tended to get defensive. A lot of these jackasses thought Thorn was running some kind of illegal trick-house.
“Mr. Blackwell, do you know an Evan Scott?”
Lincoln’s heart leaped into his throat.
Great, not that fuckwit again.
Anytime Thorn’s ex resurfaced, he brought trouble with him.
Thorn sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked exhausted…and sad.
The gentlemen of this house were always so focused on others’ heartaches that they rarely recognized it in themselves.
“Yes. I know him. He’s my ex-fiancé. We split a couple of years ago.”
Detective Kelly’s face was impassive when she asked, “When did you last see him?”
Thorn ran his hand over his wavy locks as creases appeared in the corners of his eyes.
“Last Friday night. He cornered me when I was having dinner in a restaurant.”
“What?” Lincoln fussed. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Not now, Linc,” Thorn pressed. “Is that what this is about, Detective?”
“So you didn’t invite him to meet you for dinner?”
Thorn shook his head sadly. “No. I have a permanent restraining order.”
“Is there a reason why you didn’t report the violation immediately?” Kelly asked, jotting down Thorn’s answers in a pocket-sized spiral notebook.
“I wasn’t interested in doing the paperwork.” Thorn waved them off. “I’m still not interested in pressing charges. Evan is going through enough.”
The detectives stared at each other for a moment until Sharpe gave his partner an imperceptible nod.
“What was that?” Lincoln demanded. “I saw that. What are you guys not saying?”
“Mr. Blackwell, where were you on the 23rd around nine p.m.?”
Lincoln put his palm against Thorn’s chest before he could respond. “Do not answer that. Not until they tell you what’s going on.”
“Are you his boyfriend or his lawyer?”
Lincoln rounded on Detective Sharpe. This man’s fucking attitude, the electric charge of his salty skin, and the raw bite of gunpowder in his scowl were getting on his fucking nerves. It was too late at night for this cat-and-mouse bullshit.
“I’m neither, Sharpe,” Lincoln sneered. “And I doubt that’s one of the questions on the list.”
“No. But it was on mine.” The corner of Sharpe’s mouth ticked up in the corner, into the kind of grin that was a weapon.