Page 8 of One Weekend in Boston

"And this is why I was forced to run. No one believes me when I tell them what he's done."

She was still sitting in the desk chair, and since the two mattresses were flipped off the bed, that only left the tiny ottoman as a place for me to sit. I dragged it over to the desk and dropped down onto it. It was short, so my six-foot-two frame looked awkward, with my knees nearly hitting my chest. I made it work though, despite how uncomfortable I was.

"I'm not saying I don't believe you. I'm just trying to wrap my head around what's going on. Weren't you the one asking if I was trouble? Seems like you had that backwards."

I didn't get the laugh or even the small smile I was hoping for.

I thought more about what she said and, to be honest, I was a little surprised.

"Isn't he a billionaire?" The question popped out of my mouth before I thought better of it.

Shannon rolled her eyes at me as if to show me exactly what she thought of my question.

"He's amillionaireand I know what you're thinking. Can he really be that bad?"

"Actually, I was trying to reconcile the woman I met last night who told me she was into blue-collar men with the women who dated a billionaire. Excuse me, amillionaire," I quickly corrected when she gave me a stern look.

This was the same woman who let me do unspeakable things to her last night after only hours of meeting me, and she met everything I dished out with fervor. I had some eclectic tastes in the bedroom, but I'm pretty sure Shannon had me beat.

"A momentary lack of judgment and the loss of my father are the best explanations I have. Believe me, I learned very quickly the error of my ways. I was just too far down the rabbit hole to get out unscathed."

I ran my eyes up and down her body despite knowing damn well that I had seen and touched every inch of it last night. There wasn't a single mark on her. But not all scars could be seen.

"We need to call management and the police," I reiterated. "A place like this has to have surveillance, so I'm sure he was caught on camera."

Shannon scoffed. "Not likely. Davis doesn't get his hands dirty. He probably hired some thug to do the job for him. Itwill be another dead end just like every other time I've tried to involve the police in this."

I suddenly thought of my brother and what he did for a living. I wasn't supposed to know about the jobs he took for Blackguard Security. He was a black ops team for a reason, but seven years apart didn't mean shit. Not when we were both former special ops. I just chose a civilian life when I got out. Matthew didn't. It was easy to recognize when someone wasn't completely out of the game.

"I might be able to help with that, but let's start with the police first."

It only tookfifteen minutes of being in the presence of both management and the two police officers assigned to the case for me to understand why Shannon sounded defeated even before she told them who she suspected did it.

It was blatantly obvious that everyone in the room, except me, thought she was lying.

Maybe lying wasn't the right word.

Attention seeker. That was the vibe they were giving off and none of them bothered to hide it.

"So, you were in a relationship with Davis Jackson for"—the officer looked down at the notebook he was taking notes in—"six months but you have no proof of this relationship."

"I’m sorry that, when I decided to run for my life, I didn't consider bringing along memories of our relationship. I guess it just slipped my mind," Shannon sneered. Her tone was laced with sarcasm. Something I'm sure the police officer didn't appreciate.

"No phone with pictures? No social media accounts? Davis Jackson is a media mogul. He makes his living from social media."

It was obvious Shannon was holding on to her patience with the thinnest piece of thread and she was going to snap any moment. I was about to answer the officer for her, but she beat me to it.

"I left my phone so I couldn't be traced. I deleted my social media accounts for the same reason. And if you think for a minute that Davis manages his own socials, then you're even dumber than you look," Shannon snapped.

Her attitude wasn't doing us any favors. I wanted to remind her as much, but it didn't seem like the best time for me to bring attention to the fact that she had nothing to go off of.

As she suspected, the video footage didn't show Davis breaking into her room, but it did show a man. A young one, so at least there was proof she hadn't caused the destruction. Well, sorta. Management was trying to say she did it before she went down to the bar, even though she had only been in the room for less than ten minutes. That wasn’t nearly enough time to cause that much of a mess, at least, not in my opinion. The police officers, on the other hand, weren’t convinced.

"Ma'am, you used your credit card to pay for the room. You were already able to be traced," the second officer informed her.

Shannon's shoulders slumped forward as she realized her error. Very few civilians understood how much their everyday activities could be traced.

"I hadn't thought about that," she groaned.

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