Page 3 of Stolen Love

“You’re exhausted. Sick.” Adira clucks his tongue. “The others and I agreed, there’s nothing you can do right now and you’re so stressed you’re barely sleeping as it is.”

My mother’s threats have been constant these past few weeks. Her ultimatum is clear. If I don’t marry Nathaniel, she’ll make Rogue pay for my disobedience.

Last night she made good on those threats, and I had to watch the cops drag him away in handcuffs while his only worry was for me. I blink back the wetness that wants to spring to my eyes. Rogue is a good man. He loves me. Even while they dropped him to his knees and slapped cuffs on him, he was only worried about me. But I’m the reason that he’s being held.

If I went to Nicole now… If I agreed to marry Nathaniel… the cops would let him go. “Is there any news?”

“Plenty,” Adira says, like the word leaves a bad taste in his mouth. He lifts a second mug from the dresser and offers it to me.

“Chamomile.” I sniff the herbal tea. It’s grown on me, but it’s not my favorite syrupy coffee, and I could use the caffeine.

Or maybe vodka. If I’m about to receive more bad news I probably want vodka. Surely that’s an acceptable breakfast when one’s fiancé is facing prison time for a crime he didn’t commit, no matter what news comes after.

I take a sip of the tea and steady myself. “Is Rogue okay? Have we found Marty? Did Mark Anders wake up yet?”

Chapter Two

Rogue

Tick… Tock…

My lawyer stares at the watch on his wrist. It’s a nice piece. A TAG Heuer Carrera with a rose gold finish and a brown calf leather strap. My brothers and I bought it for him after Rebel went away for beating the shit out of Alec Hawthorne.

Jason hadn’t been able to keep Rebel from doing time, but he did everything he could to minimize the damage. Like he’s spent the last two days doing everything he can to get me out of this mess.

I think it’s been two days. It’s hard to tell in this windowless hellhole. The sun may have come up and gone down a thousand times. Or perhaps only once.

But that TAG Heuer on Jason’s wrist keeps impeccable time.

Detective Brody steps back into the room. The lines in his face have grown deeper over the hours we’ve spent together, but then none of us have slept. He carves deep furrows into his hair with his fingers as he rolls his jaw. His eyes are cold and make my heart beat a little too hard for a man innocent of the crime they arrested me for.

But with in-laws like mine, I can’t be sure he isn’t about to announce that they found the evidence they need to lock me up for a very long time.

His partner, a squat man who has sat quietly, for the most part observing, speaks. “Detective?”

Brody drags out the other chair and drops onto it. He presses his elbows into the tabletop as he leans toward me. “Mark Anders is dead.”

“What?” My already quickened pulse sets off at a gallop. There’s no way I heard him right. The man was in the hospital. In a coma. But they have me in here for an assault that occurred weeks ago. He isn’t…

“Mark Anders died last night. From wounds you inflicted. You’re no longer looking at intent, but murder two.”

Jason glances up from his watch. “That’s a stretch. You have no evidence of anything more than what is in that video. Any charges beyond that won’t stick.”

“You’re correct. We don’t have the evidence we need. At least not yet,” the detective admits. “But we will.”

My stomach heaves and the room spins. Any oxygen in my lungs is squeezed out as they constrict. Less than forty-eight hours ago I was ready to pledge my undying devotion to the woman I’m in love with, in front of our friends and family. Only these two detectives arrested me before we could say our vows. Hauled me out of our apartment while my love cried from fear.

And then they brought me here and told me that I beat a man into a coma. Now he’s dead?

“Bullshit.” My voice is strained by my inability to breathe and the tension making me grit my teeth. I didn’t beat Mark Anders into a coma. I didn’t attempt to take another man’s life because I’m a violent and angry person who is hell bent on revenge.

“It’s definitely not bullshit,” Detective Brody says. “Mark Anders is dead. You beat him. That is fact.”

All I’m guilty of is punching Mark Anders several times on camera for asking about my wife-to-be’s mental health issues within hours of her almost dying. A crime that I would plead guilty to and pay for if that was what we were here for.

But killing a man… this is a nightmare. “I didn’t do it.”

“I am advising you again, Rogue. Don’t say anything,” Jason reminds me.

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