Page 7 of Morally Grey

“Are you expecting someone?” I whisper.

She shakes her head.

The knock comes again, followed by a booming voice. “New York State Police! Is anyone home?”

Chapter Five

Briar

Ihurry to stand, then motion for Grey to do the same. If he shouts and alerts the officers, this could all be over right now. And I don’t want that. The moment I find out why he committed the murder, I’m turning him in and enjoying that sweet, sweet reward money, but until that moment, he’s mine.

“Just a minute!” I yell toward the door. “I’m not dressed for company!”

I grab Grey’s hand and yank him toward the basement door. When he realizes we aren’t headed back to the bedroom, he digs his heels into the floor and refuses to take another step. He shakes his head, though I’m thankful he doesn’t voice his protests.

“It’s soundproof down there, and I don’t trust you to keep quiet in the bedroom,” I whisper. “It’s either the basement or I’ll tell him you held a gun on me.”

His shoulders droop, and he grits his teeth as he makes a strangling motion toward my throat, but he starts walking. Thankfully, he doesn’t think about the fact that the cop mightfind it a bit odd that I’ve shackled his ankles. I flick on the light and open the second door at the bottom of the stairs. Grey’s eyes widen as he steps into the room.

“What? I told you already. My ex was into some kinky shit.” I lead him to the back wall and motion for him to step closer so that I can swap his leg shackles for a leg spreader. He won’t be able to waddle more than a few feet once I lock him into that.

“No, I draw the line at that thing,” he says as he points at the spreader. “I’ve watched enough porn to know what that is.”

“Fine. Just stay put and be quiet,” I tell him before heading up the stairs and closing—and locking—the doors leading into the basement.

My fingers shake as I grip the doorknob to the front door. Fuck, everything shakes. Men in uniform stand outside, and I have a murderer with leg shackles in my basement. Nervous is an understatement. But I open the door and force my best smile onto my face.

“Ah, good evening, officers.”

“Hello, ma’am,” one of the men says as he leans in and looks past me. Shadows cover everything, including my art projects scattered all over the coffee table. My home is dark except for the hall light leading toward my bedroom. It looks as if I came from one place and one place only. Which is good.

“How can I help you?” I ask, interrupting his in-depth scan of my home.

“We’re looking for the man who shot the bank CEO yesterday. He’s been on the run, and one of our units thought they saw his car come down your driveway earlier today.”

“And you didn’t keep following him?” I place my hand on my chest, gripping my invisible pearls. “I’ve been napping most of the day because I haven’t felt well. I called out of work because I’m sick. Maybe you two should give my house a thorough walkthrough to be sure he didn’t sneak in. I could have died!”

The officers glance at each other, both of them seemingly alarmed by my sudden histrionics. The shorter of the two takes a step backward. “His car isn’t here, ma’am, and we have other houses to check. If he’d broken in, I’m sure you’d have heard him. He’s a senseless killer, so you probably wouldn’t be alive to talk to us. More than likely, he drove down your driveway, then turned around and kept moving.”

I take a step into the cool night air and wiggle my toes on the wooden porch. I look left and then right, then left again. “Well...if you’re sure.”

The taller officer reaches into his pocket and hands me his card. “We’re sure. If you see anything, though, please give us a call.”

“Are you positive you don’t need to look around?” I peer toward the garage, where I swapped my car for Grey’s several hours ago. “I could bake some cookies for your time.”

The shorter officer clears his throat and turns away, clearly put off by my desperate-woman routine. “You’ll be fine. Have a nice evening, ma’am.”

I nod, step inside, and close the door. When their headlights brighten my living room, then turn toward my bedroom, I step toward the window and peek through a gap in the curtain until their taillights disappear. Once I’m certain they’re gone and won’t be back, I hurry for the basement.

“How’d it go?” he asks as I shut the door behind me.

“They just wanted to know if I’d seen you.”

His eyes widen. “Oh, fuck. My car. How’d you handle that?”

“I drove it into the garage hours ago. Don’t worry so much.”

“I’ll keep worrying, thanks. Being too complacent is what got me into this fucking mess in the first place.”

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