Page 150 of Rear View
The idea of losing her… Jesus! My eyes burned, my vision going unfocused. It hurt so bad I could barely think it. But I needed to, for her. Everything for her. Always.
“Xavier!” that familiar voice called. “XAVIER BOSCH!”
I sat up with a shot, arm comin’ up short on my cuff.My heart slammed against my ribs when I bellowed, “MILES!”
The cop at the door stiffened.
“Xavier!” Feet pounded when Miles closed in, his shoulders heaving as he skidded to a stop outside my room.
Facing him, the cop shook his head. “No visitors allowed.”
Throwing my feet over the side of my bed, I stood. “Ryah,” I said, fuckin’ frantic. “How is she? How’s my girl?”
“Stop talking, Bosch!” the cop threw over his shoulder.
“She’s good,” Miles said, the words thick. “Wanted me to say she loves you.”
My lungs kick-started, working for the first time in a goddamn day.
“You can’t be here, sir.” The cop edged toward Miles, his grip resting over his Taser. “Leave. Now.”
Miles raised his arms, palms out. “Easy, Copper. I’m not breaking him out, for Chrissakes.” His stare found mine. “We’re here, man. We’re watching the conference and we’re here and we’re fucking with you.”
My chest hitched. With me. They were with me. I wasn’t alone.
The cop rolled his neck. “Talk to my prisoner again and I’ll place you under arrest for interfering with an investigation.”
Prick.
“Alright, alright,” Miles grumbled, takin’ a step back.
I sealed my hold over the rail of my bed, locking tight to steady myself. Ryah’d gotten to me. Time to return the favor. I tipped my chin up. “Tell her I love her too, Miles.”
The corner of his mouth lifted. He gave me a salute, then he was gone.
Resuming his post, the cop folded his arms over his chest and glared at me like I should give a shit.
I propped my hip against the less-than-stellar mattress and ran my free hand through my hair. My girl was okay.
I wasn’t alone.
My attention flicked to the TV. The countdown to Castillo’s press conference was posted in the top right corner of the screen—a press conference that was set to start in three minutes. Sweat slicked my brow, and my stomach rolled.
Maynard and a handful of other official-looking people moved in, taking their places behind the crown attorney, arms linked in front of them while they surveyed the spectators that packed the area. A few I recognized: Yara, my crew, Earl, Alec and Sheila, Sean and a shit ton of people with media lanyards.
Castillo straightened his scarf, then stepped up to the podium with the Edgewater City seal on the front. Setting a folder down in front of him, he adjusted the mic. “Good morning. I’d like to thank everyone for coming out. I’ll be taking questions at the end, but please, bear with me while I move through this.” He cleared his throat. “As you’re all aware by now, the decedent in the televised crash was a Mr. Charles Barlowe, a professor at our very own U of E. As of late last evening, it was conclusively determined that Mr. Barlowe had been stalking one of his students there, a Miss Ryah Nolan. And the EPD took on Miss Nolan’s case over two years ago.”
Maynard drew his shoulders back, his chin lifting high.
Dick.
“Subsequent to last night’s incident, a university security guard, Stanley Winslow, was killed, while another student, Zoya Bakshi, and Miss Nolan herself, were hospitalized.”
My gut torqued, ’cause it’d been close. Entirely too goddamn close.
“As of the completion of this investigation, my attention was specifically drawn to the yaw marks.” He opened his folder and lifted a picture of a rubber trail on asphalt. “For those unfamiliar, yaw marks are the tire tracks analyzed at an accident scene. In this case, Mr. Bosch’s yaw marks, when coupled with his skill as a rally driver, indicated his actions were, in fact, intentional.”
My body went numb, my shoulders dropping. Castillo’d been real clear about how things could shake out if they went sideways, but it didn’t stop the terror seizing me or the sting in my chest from that bullshit betrayal. I didn’t regret what I’d done, would do it again for my girl—anythingfor her. Still, it sure as hell didn’t look good. Bad. This was real goddamn bad.
