Page 98 of Ruthless Intent

But I already know the answer to that. It’s because my focus has always been on the girl who gave the testimony that damned me to life behind bars. I never considered anything else. I never questioned anything else.

Why would I?

Why the fuck didn’t I?

Because focusing on Ashley gave me an easy target. A reachable target.

Not that she is innocent …

I shake my head at that whisper.

It’s no longer that straight forward, is it? She’s not the person I thought she was. That I’ve built her up to be. I dismissed the fact she was a young girl, an impressionable, upset girl at that.

It doesn’t make what she did any easier to forgive. I’m not sure I ever could forgive her.

But she’s not wrong.

How did Detective Holson know about Louisa’s pregnancy?

“Zain?” Something warm touches my cheek, and I flinch back, my attention snapping back to the woman in front of me.

I’m no longer pinning her to the wall. In fact there’s at least a foot between us, and her fingertips are stroking over my jaw, and the light contact ignites something beneath my skin.

“Don’t touch me.” My voice comes out as a rasp.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

She has no fucking idea what she’s caused by that question. No idea of the turmoil churning inside my head. And if I have any sense at all, I’ll keep it that way. I won’t give her the satisfaction of knowing that, for once, she has the upper hand.

“Get in the car. We’re going to be late.” I shove all thoughts of the detective to one side. I’ll deal with it later. When she’s not there to witness it.

For now, I need her to stop touching me. Stop looking at me.

I wrap my fingers around her wrist and pull her hand away from my face, then drag her along with me as I stride out of the house and across the drive. I open the passenger door and almost stuff her into the seat. Strangely, she doesn’t fight me.

And … I don’t like it.

I go back inside to set the alarm, then return to the car. She’s closed the door, so I stalk around to the driver’s side. She says nothing when I take the seat.

“Seatbelt.” My tone is clipped.

I start the engine, drowning out whatever she tries to say. If the drive wasn’t so steep, and the turn onto the road wasn’t so sharp, I’d have floored the accelerator, but I can’t even have that moment of satisfaction.

Instead, I inch the car backward off the drive and onto the road, then join the traffic flowing toward the town center.

“Zain.”

I stretch out a hand and turn on the radio. I have zero interest in hearing what she wants to say to me. I don’t want her to tell me about anything else she might have picked up from watching the two videos.

I acknowledge to myself that it’s a childish move, but I keep the volume high until I turn onto the road where my parents live. By the time we’re parked outside, the front door is open, and my mom is walking down the steps to meet us.

I’m out of the driver’s seat before Ashley can even get her seatbelt off, and stop my mom before she reaches the car.

“Do you mind if Ashley stays here with you for the afternoon? I have an appointment at the police station.”

My mom’s eyes cut to the car, then back to me. “Darling, are you sure this isn’t moving too fast? You’ve only been home for three days. You need to slow down and think about what you’re doing. Who you’re spending time with.”

“Has it only been three days? It feels longer.” My voice is a lot more flippant than I’m feeling. I need to put space between me and the woman who’s been my sole focus for years. I can’t think with her staring at me.

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