Page 93 of Start A War (Saint View Psychos)

Her mouth formed an O. “I can’t believe this. I thought you two were next on the wedding train. Poor Caleb. He must be devastated. What other secrets have you been keeping all this time?”

I tried to keep my features schooled into something that didn’t give away how I really felt about ‘poor’ Caleb. Caleb would act the victim anyway. I might as well get used to it.

“Actually, there is more. I’ve left the daycare center—”

“Oh good, you working there was really so unnecessary. I never understood why you bothered.” She clapped her hands together. “Ooh! We can play tennis during the day now!”

I shook my head. “Actually, no. I have another job.”

“Already? Boo. That’s no fun. Where?”

“Here.”

“In…Saint View? Is it a children’s charity or something?” Her face wrinkled like the very mention of Saint View was dirty.

“No, I mean here, in this club.”

“You’re waitressing?”

I shrugged. “I own the place. So yeah, waitressing. Pouring drinks. Cleaning. Doing admin. Whatever needs doing.”

She stared at me. “Why would you buy a bar in Saint View?”

“I inherited it when my brother died.”

She held a hand up, her expression flickering through so many different emotions I couldn’t keep up. “Okay, start talking. What brother? Clearly not Everett.”

I launched into the tale, telling her everything in detail, about how Axel and I shared a mother but had different fathers. I told her how he and Nash had always looked out for me, and how after he died, I inherited the bar.

Sandra quit interrupting me every five seconds and listened to the entire story with huge eyes, like she was watching a movie with a killer plot twist that had her glued to her seat.

I sipped at my drink, needing it after talking for so long.

Sandra used the opportunity to get a question in. “So it had to be the best friend, right? Wow. This is better than the true crime shows on Netflix.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

“We’re playing ‘Whodunit’, right? I’ve watched enough of this stuff to know the murderer is always known to the victim. There’s no way this was a random gang thing, just for shits and giggles.” She sat back, crossing her arms beneath her breasts. “I’ve got my money on the best friend. What did you say his name was? Nate?”

“Nash.”

“Him for sure. You mark my words.”

Irritation prickled at the back of my neck. I clenched my fingers around the tabletop and squeezed hard so it had somewhere to go. Sandra was so off base it wasn’t funny. “No way. Nash loved Axel.”

“Murderers usually do.”

“Nash is not a murderer, Sandra!”

I hadn’t meant to yell it. But it echoed around the quiet bar. Rebel and Vincent both looked in my direction. Vincent’s gaze burned me, unspoken questions in his eyes, but I quietly shook my head, trying to let him know that it was all fine.

“Sorry,” I muttered to Sandra. “I didn’t mean to yell.”

“It’s fine. It’s hard to hear the truth. But think about it. You need means, motive, and opportunity, right? Means—the man lives in Saint View. Guns are a dime a dozen. No problem there. Opportunity—”

“He was here the night Axel died. Working.”

“He was at Psychos when you got here that night. He was also very conveniently around to take you right to the murder scene and act the devastated best friend for the cops. How far is Axel’s place from here?”

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