Page 11 of The Hate We Breathe
“That’s not what I asked, Miss Donovan.”
“But it’s what you’re thinking,” I tell him and by the flat expression on his face, I know I’m right. I scoff and shake my head. “This is fucking ridiculous. I came toyou,” I remind him. “Would a guilty person have come in so easily? If I killed him, wouldn’t I have run?”
“Guilty parties sometimes feel confident that they got away with their crimes,” Lann replies easily. “Sometimes, they even want to be involved in the investigation.” His eyes glimmer with hostility. “They get off on it.”
Ice infuses my veins. Fucking pointless. It doesn’t matter what I say. They’ve already made up their minds. Even if Iwere to admit the awful things that Morpheus did—the rape, the blackmail, the threats—I doubt they would even believe me.
“I’m done.” I stand and glance at Abel. He nods, the squeak of his metal chair scraping over the concrete floor as he follows. He reaches into his suit coat and pulls out a second business card.
“Any further communication with my client will go through me, Detective Lann.” He places the card in the center of the table. “Until next time.”
I doubt there will be a next time, though. If I want to know the truth about anything—about my father and the embezzlement, my mother’s disappearance, or Morpheus’ murder—I’m going to have to find it out for myself.
5
JULIET
Sweat rolls down my temples and even into my eyes as I stare at the man across the mats from me. Abel’s grin is wicked as he circles one foot over the other. Cory stands on the sidelines as well as a few of the other guys that frequent his gym, watching.
My side is sore from our last bout, but I can’t complain. I’ve never wanted to be treated any different from the others that step into the ring and Abel makes sure that I’m not. He hits just as hard as if I were a man—I’ve got the bruises to prove it.
“Come on!” someone hollers. “You just gonna keep circling or are ya gonna do something!”
Before the man even finishes his shout, I dive forward and throw a punch at Abel’s face. He narrowly dodges the action, skidding several feet to the side before spinning and kicking out. I jump with a gasp, air scratching through my already raw throat as I almost don’t avoid him in time to have my ankles knocked together.
I’ve already gone down three times in the last round of sparring and I’m not going to let it happen again. I will win one session with this man if it fucking kills me.
Gritting my teeth, I follow up my initial attack and dodge with a series of short jabs that have him on the defensive. Hebacks up, forearms coming up to protect his face, and then, I do it. I spin, going low as he realizes what I’m about to do, and I slam my foot into one of his.
It took a couple of tries and more times than I’m comfortable with getting my ass kicked, but I finally take him down with the same fucking move he used on me. Abel’s legs sweep out from beneath him and he goes down hard on his side. I dive on top of his body without giving him a moment to rest or defend himself and start throwing punches.
A minute later, Cory calls it. “All right,” he says, stepping up to the side of the ring. “You’ve got him pinned, girl. Good job. The session’s over.”
Immediately, I drop my arms and lift back onto shaking legs. I hold out one wrapped hand to the man beneath me and he takes it with a grin.
“Not bad, kid,” Abel says as he gets back up, bouncing on the balls of his feet and shaking his arms out as if he’s ready for another round.
“You were a good partner,” I tell him honestly. “Thanks for not taking it easy on me. Most guys would’ve.”
Abel snorts. “Hell no, I ain’t taken it easy on you. I know more than my fair share of badass bitches who could probably take down a whole army.” He tilts his head back and looks at me down the length of his nose. “You kind of remind me of some of them.”
Cory hands me one of the towels from a collection on the edge of the room and I begin to mop up the sweat coating my face, neck, and shoulders. “Yeah?” I ask absently.
“Mmmmhmmm.” Abel’s reply is a low hum of noise as if he, too, is distracted. I glance at him to find that he’s already across the mat and has left the area to grab his phone from a nearby chair and is looking down at the screen.
While most guys leave their phones in their lockers when working out unless they’re using them for music, Abel has kept his on his person pretty much since the moment I met him. Cory pats my shoulder and then heads back to the desk as the front door to the gym opens and two more guys step inside. I watch Abel for a moment longer as he turns and takes a seat on the fold-out chair and types away at his cell before drifting over.
He doesn’t glance up as I draw near. His sole focus is on the phone in his hand. I glance over his shoulder as I stop at his side and spot a photo in a text message of a purple-haired woman holding a toddler, and a boy of about ten or so is half over her shoulder. She’s glaring at the camera, but it’s in selfie mode so I wonder if it's real anger or just sarcastic. Abel’s lips twitch with amusement as he types out a response beneath the photo. I don’t look at that, though. Curiosity is one thing, but privacy is another. Still…
“Is that your girlfriend?” I ask.
“Wife,” Abel says without hesitation.
“You’re married?” My brows rise at that. He doesn’t seem the type to get married. And those kids… they did bear a striking resemblance to the man before me.
“Yup.” Abel pops the word out of his mouth before finally lowering his cell and glancing up. “Going on ten years now,” he admits. “Vegas wedding—couldn’t let her get away.”
Ten years… and the oldest kid in the picture had looked the same age. “Did you get married young because she got pregnant?” I ask.
