Page 34 of Winning Bid

“Of course.”

“Including cover for her when she murders someone.”

I laugh sharply. “Wait—you think that’s what happened? Are you shitting me?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen it.”

“She … she didn’t do it.” I force a breath out, trying to erase the memories of that awful night. But it doesn’t help. Nothing helps except time. But now, with the cops breathing down our necks, it keeps coming back up like bad sushi. “He had her by the neck. He was choking her out. Whether he wanted to kill her before he raped her, I don’t know. Not sure he cared if she was alive for that or not. She had these bruises on her throat for days after … every time I saw them, I saw the light slip from her eyes the way it did that night. When I tackled him, I thought she was dead. That I was too late.”

His lip curls in disgust. “The world’s better off without the creep.”

“Yeah.”

“But that doesn’t change the fact that June was involved in his death, even if peripherally. She will remain a person of interest, as will you, after the show you put on in there. Problem is, had you called me that night when it all went down, I coulda gotten you out, looking like a hero. Now … ” He sighs, shaking his head.

“Now, what?”

“The BPD is out for blood. They won’t be happy until they have it.”

“Why are they acting like Neil was one of their own? He was a hedge fund manager?—"

“At Bryce-Connolly, yeah, I know. Problem is, Connolly is a big donor to a lot of city, county, and state charities, including police associations. I wouldn’t put it past him to pressure them on this, kid. He’s protective of his public image. He likes his name in the headlines for positive press only, but now his name is tied to a murder victim. That means someone’s nuts are in the fire, and they won’t stop until this is solved.”

My head falls into my hands. “This just keeps getting better and better.”

“You hit the lotto with this one. Only it’s the lotto in reverse.”

I want to scream. Or punch. Or just go to town on something breakable. This is too much. It’s all fucking too much. “What do we do now?”

He blows out a deep breath. “You’re not gonna like it.”

“I don’t like any of this. How will your idea be any different?”

“There were three people involved in this incident. Neil, you, and June. One of you is dead. The other isn’t my client. If it comes down to it, you know I’ll pin this on her.”

“The fuck you will!”

“Calm down. All I have to do is get in front of a jury, make them think it could have been her, and there’s your reasonable doubt. It’s not enough to make the police go after her, but it’s enough to get you off. Isn’t that the goal?”

“Not at her expense! If you so much as point a finger her way, the police will reopen the investigation and go after her. You can’t do that!”

He picks at his driving gloves. “I think you’ll find I can do whatever I need to in order to secure the well-being of my client, and when it’s my client’s life or June’s, I’m picking my client every time.”

“Stop fucking with your gloves and look at me. I want your full attention because I do not believe I’ve made myself clear.” I wait until he gives an annoyed grunt and stops with his damn gloves. “If it were to ever be a choice between mine or June’s freedom, she is the priority. Always. Fuck my father, fuck anyone who says differently. I love her too damn much to see her behind bars ever. So no more talk about pinning this shit on her. If worse comes to worse, I’ll take my punishment. But she stays the fuck out of this.”

Otto looks tired. “You’re making a mistake.”

“It’s my mistake to make.” And it wasn’t a mistake, but I wasn’t going to argue with him.

He mumbles something under his breath, then puts the car in drive. “You think you’re noble for choosing her over yourself. You’re wrong. You made the right call that night—obviously. But this? How many square feet is your fancy apartment?”

That was an abrupt change of topic. “Around fifteen hundred square feet. Why?”

“Massachusetts prison cells run about thirty-five square feet. So the next time you’re in your bathroom, imagine what half of that would be like for the rest of your life, then tell me if you’re willing to throw yourself on your sword for her.”

I glare at him. “Yes. I am.”

“Damn kids.”

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