Page 60 of State of Suspense

The gown was a lovely burgundy velvet creation that’d made her feel sexy and curvy in a good way the first time she’d tried it on. This time, she focused on staying conscious and not screaming in pain as her injured limbs were carefully arranged around the dress.

“Are you sure?—”

“Please. Just do what you need to.”

She closed her eyes and focused on breathing while they did their thing.

“That should do it,” Marcus said a few minutes later. “Let’s get it off.”

It hurt as much coming off as it had going on, resulting in cold sweat and nausea.

“You have hair and makeup set for tomorrow?” he asked as his assistant put the dress on a hanger.

“I assume Lilia has that covered. Thank you for coming in.”

“Gotta say, this is my first fitting in a morgue.”

Sam smiled. “First time for everything.”

“Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’ll be fine. Don’t tell anyone.”

“We never would, love.” He kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Marcus.”

“For you, anything.”

Sam lowered herself into the office chair and exhaled a deep breath before indulging in a pity party. Why did these things always have to happen at the worst possible time? Whenever Nick needed her to be at the top of her game, she got banged up and bruised. She reached up to wipe away a tear and gasped when her fingers connected with the cut on her face.

Son of a bitch.

She had no time for pity parties.

Someone had murdered Tom Forrester, and she needed to find that person, arrest them and hope they spent the rest of their miserable life in prison.

Sam wheeled herself back to the pit, fortunately not encountering anyone else in the hallway as she used her left foot to propel herself forward. If this hadn’t been the worst possible time for an injury, she would’ve found it funny. However, nothing about this was funny.

“Cruz!”

He popped up from inside his cubicle. “Yes?”

“Any word on a lawyer for Bryant?”

“That’s why I’m here,” a very young man said as he came into the pit from the other side, eyeing her in the desk chair as she made her way toward him.

“And you are?”

“Tyson Conway, Esquire.” He handed her a business card. “I heard the congressman’s attorneys fired him and thought I might be able to help.”

“His assets are frozen.”

“I’m aware.”

Sam eyed him skeptically. “What’s in it for you?”

“I’m growing my career. A case like this could help.”

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