Page 122 of Wicked Sins

I don’t move, and I ignore the hand stuck out at me. It’s not that I’m being rude, I just don’t trust myself not to tremble like I’ve got epilepsy.

Reed sighs as he sits, as if his day thus far has been a long and taxing one. It’s not even eleven yet, so I can’t imagine being around this guy in the afternoon.

“I told your father I didn’t have to see you,” he says, shaking his head. “But Wayne Bale sure wasn’t in the back of the queue when they were handing out stubbornness.”

“That’s not why we’re here.” Joah sits forward and rubs his palms over his jeans.

My stomach does a somersault. And here I thought he was calm.

“Yes?” Reed asks, sounding bored already.

“Uh…my dad…” Joah cuts off. Silence filters into the room.

I risk looking up, and wish I hadn’t. They’re both staring at me. Joah lifts his eyebrows, and then points at Reed with his chin.

“Kids,” Reed says through a sigh. “I have a busy day, so if you could just—”

I open my mouth, but the door opens before I can say anything, simultaneously cutting off Reed’s sentence.

A man wearing a perfectly tailored pinstripe suit and a navy-blue tie steps into the room. “Morning, Detective.” His eyes dart first to Joah, then to me. “Jo.” He pauses. “Candace, yes?”

“Mr. Dench,” Joah says, rushing to his feet. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to represent my client,” Dench says, as if Joah was being a complete idiot for not knowing it. “Now, Detective, I do hope you haven’t begun questioning yet?”

“I wasn’t interro—” Reed cuts off with a twist of his mouth. “I didn’t bring them in. They came by themselves.” He waves toward me. “She has something to discuss.”

“I’m sure she does, but no one is discussing anything without me around,” Dench snaps. “Now please…if you’d be so kind…”

He sweeps his arm toward the door and holds it there.

Reed stands with ill grace, throwing both Joah and me a scathing look before storming out of the room.

Dench takes his seat, slapping a briefcase onto the table so hard that the impact dislodges my hands.

“Now, what’s this about?” he asks, fixing pale, watery eyes on me.

My jaw locks.

Before, I thought I’d be speaking to a policeman. Someone with a badge. But now?

I shift in my seat. A moment later, Joah slides his chair closer to mine. He puts a hand on my knee and gives me a squeeze.

I wilt from the wave of hot shame that consumes me.

I try to push off his hand, but he seems to misunderstand the gesture and, the next thing I know, he’s got me in his grip.

“It’s okay,” he says. I don’t dare look at him because I’m sure he’s smiling. “You can trust Uncle Quinten. He’s our family lawyer.”

Mr. Dench is Wayne’slawyer? I guess Joah’s never heard the way his father speaks toUncleQuinten, because if he had, then he’d realize Wayne has this man wrapped around his finger.

And this is the guy I’m supposed to speak to?

“It’s…uh…it’s kinda private,” I murmur. “I’d rather just speak to—”

“Candy, just tell him what happened,” Joah says.

My cheeks are on fire. “I really don’t want—”

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