Page 82 of Resisting Royal

CHAPTER 41

ROYAL

The cement walls were closing in around me, and all I could think about was Bianca. She didn’t believe me, her face said it all. And could I really blame her? The man who manipulated her into marriage was accused of murder—there’s a shocker.

Hours, I spent hours within these walls, answering questions after questions, defending myself against ridiculous evidence they had against me, which was all bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit because I didn’t kill Frank. I wouldn’t kill him.

Okay, maybe that’s a partial lie. Initially, I had wanted to kill him. But that was before he was my father-in-law, even if he was a shit one at that. Whether I liked him or not didn’t matter. He was family, and I couldn’t tie a cinder block to family.

The metal door scraped against the cement floor as it was pushed open from the outside. The fat bastard who had been pressing me all night and all morning strolled in with a folder and tossed it down in front of me, not uttering a single word. I stared at it, ignoring the officer as he sat down across the table from me, folding his meaty arms over his chest.

He cleared his throat and spoke. “It appears you did not kill Frank.”

“No fucking kidding. I’m pretty sure I fucking said that.”

He sighed. “Everyone claims to be innocent, but they rarely are.” He reached for the folder and flipped it open. “We found a receipt for two coffees and some pastries along with a gas station receipt during the time of death, all pointing to you being out of town and traveling away from the location. Once we get the gas station’s video surveillance and review the footage, if this checks out, then you are free to go.”

I sat up straighter in the hard metal chair. “How long?”

He eyed me suspiciously like I already had some shit planned. I didn’t. I only needed to see my wife, to comfort her and reassure her during this painful time. “Could be an hour could be five. Who really knows? If they have everything digitally, it could be fairly quick. If we have to drive over there, well—it’s a bit of a drive.”

“Fuck,” I growled under my breath.

His eyes narrowed. “Just because we release you doesn’t mean you’re completely cleared. I’ll be watching, Russo.”

He could watch me all he wanted. He could watch me walk out of this place. He could watch me track down the real murderer. And he could watch me do the job that they were too fucking moral to do because my wife was hurting. It was some bastard’s fault, and I swear on my last breath, I would make it right.

Three hours later, I caught a cab for the drive home. It was already getting dark, a whole day wasted being a suspect instead of them finding the real killer. I slowly walked up the stone steps of my home, not sure what sort of mayhem I would find beyond those doors. I knew they would have destroyed my home. Each chair tossed aside was done so with a vengeance and a smug knowledge that they thought I was a criminal.

I was. I was a criminal, but in this case, I wasn’t the one they were looking for.

I turned the knob and pushed open the door, shocked that the disarray wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I strolled through the kitchen, looking around, searching for my mother and wife, hoping they came out unscathed from this situation.

I was facing the kitchen, remembering my time with Bianca, when Greta’s voice broke the silence. “She left, you know.”

My heart squeezed. “What do you mean, left?”

Her bare feet padded against the tile floor as she walked closer. “Packed her bags and was gone.”

“Shit,” I growled as my hands went to my hair, tugging. I knew Bianca would be angry, maybe upset, but leave? The thought didn’t cross my mind. Well, it did, but I wasn’t fully ready to accept it as a possibility.

“Don’t worry. She’s safe.” Greta sighed and sat down. “I’ve been working on this mess all day, I hope you plan to order dinner.”

“She called?” I asked, hoping she had contact.

She waved her hand in front of her. “No.”

“So, how do you know she’s safe?” I wasn’t trying to raise my voice at Greta, but at the same time, I needed answers. It wasn’t some random one night stand we are talking about, it was my wife.

She grabbed for an apple from the center of the table. “Troy called and said he talked to Roman. Apparently, your little dove made her way over to the compound. She and some girl over there are having a bit of girl time as we speak.”

“Emma,” I offered absentmindedly as I scratched at the hair on my jaw.

“What?”

“Emma. Roman’s girl is named Emma.”

She sighed happily. “It’s nice to see that boy finally settled down.”

I didn’t have the patience to explain that the situation in itself was a whole level of complications. “Yeah. They are . . . settled.”

I pulled out my phone, grunted at the dead battery before taking the phone off the wall, and calling Roman. He confirmed that Bianca was there, spending time in their guest room and that under no circumstances did I need to come get her. She was safe, he would make sure of that, even though their own home was a bit compromised at the moment.

Bianca was mad, angry, confused, but he knew she needed time to think, and if I came now, that might only confuse her more. So I’d wait and wait. I’d wait for as long as it took to bring my wife back home to me, knowing that my best friend and my men would keep her safe or die trying.

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