Page 10 of Ruthless Vengeance

“Like a fucking baby. What about you, Hughes, how do you sleep at night? Must be hard with that self-righteous rod up your arse!” Her eyes widen and her mouth opens to reply, but Smithy blocks her view of me and ushers her out. Smithy winks at me as he shuts the door, causing a small smile of satisfaction to spread across my face.

Drawing warmth from the hot tea in my hands, I take a sip and think about Smithy’s words. It doesn’t surprise me that Noah is trying to interview me without my solicitor, it’s a tactic I’ve known him to use in the past. But in this case, it would be warranted seeing as he knows full well I couldn’t have killed Theo and I’m being set up. The bigger question is how deep does his involvement go? And why? What reason could Noah have for fitting me up for murder?

I’ve finished my breakfast and am waiting for the inevitable sound of footsteps out in the corridor, but they don’t come.

An hour passes: two, three, and as the fourth hour rolls round, I begin to wonder what’s happened to keep Noah away this time. When those tell-tale footsteps come, I’m on edge. Anxiety grips me hard because I know something is wrong. I know it deep in my bones like the night I found my mother murdered.

The sliding of the lock is loud like thunder clapping and seems to take forever. I remain seated, casually leaning against the wall with a mask of indifference firmly in place. It’s so far from how I truly feel, but my poker face is as good, if not better, than Noah’s. I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how I truly feel.

Shoes come into view, and my eyes trail up over black trouser clad legs to a briefcase… Snapping my eyes up, they meet dark brown ones that shine with glee, and my breath rushes from me.

“Good morning, Miss Whitmore,” Ethan drawls, more of that satisfaction leaking from his words.

“I wouldn’t say it was good,” I reply flippantly.

“Well, let’s see if we can change your depressing outlook, shall we.” He steps aside, gesturing with his hand for me to exit before standing with both hands holding his briefcase in front of his body while he waits for me to move.

Hesitantly, I slide to the edge of the bed and climb to my feet. Passing him, I mutter, “Admirable optimism but misplaced I fear.” All I receive in response is a deep chuckle that were I someone else would have my lady bits singing a merry tune.

Setting off down the corridor, my steps falter when my gaze lands on the man standing at the end. The pointed expression on his face says a thousand words and none of them pleasant. His jaw clenches as I approach and eyes glower at me as I sweep passed him. I can feel his contempt coming off him in waves, and I’m a little taken aback at the high level of it.

Stepping up to the custody desk, I’m greeted by the duty officer on shift today.

“Roxanne Whitmore?”

“Yes,” I answer carefully, unsure of exactly what is happening right now. I glance over my shoulder to Ethan, who gives me a small nod of reassurance. If I’m here, then that can mean only one thing; I’m being released. And I’d be happy about that if not for the fact I’ve not even been interviewed. Based on Noah’s hostile presence and Smithy’s cryptic comment this morning, I’d make an educated guess and say they don’t have enough to hold me. However, I know that can’t be true given the evidence Ethan showed me yesterday. Obviously, this situation normally comes after interview, but for now, I’m going with it.

The duty officer processes me under Noah’s heavy and watchful gaze and with Ethan standing at my side. No words are exchanged between me and Noah, or Ethan and Noah, and the atmosphere is tense to say the least.

I keep all my questions tightly inside until we are outside and a significant distance from any prying eyes and ears.

“Explain. What the fuck just happened?”

Mr Scott stops, half turning my way. “Please, let me give you a lift, and I’ll explain what I can.” I begin shaking my head, but he cuts me off. “It’s not really a request, Miss Whitmore,” he states as a sleek silver car with blacked out windows pulls up alongside us.

The door opens, and Mr Scott steps forward, holding it open, his face hard and determined.

With a scathing look, I duck down to climb inside only to come to a stop as I lay eyes on the man casually seated in the far seat.

“It’s in your best interests to get in the car,Detective Whitmore,” he orders, his Irish lilt stronger than the last time we met, if that’s even possible.

ChapterFive

Maddox

Last night, Zak left me in the kitchen with Maria who clattered about for over an hour before I gathered the file and headed to my room needing some quiet time. Not that it helped.

After little more than a couple of hours of sleep, I found myself in the gym desperately trying to quiet the chaotic ball of thoughts flying around my mind.

I thought I had considered every possibility when Zak and I talked about how to bring Rogers down. We know that Rogers wants Roxanne and bringing her back into our world, into our fold, was meant to protect her. Now it seems that it’s had the opposite effect and has only endangered her more.

I’m almost certain there are things at play that we aren’t aware of, and I know Zak feels the same. For the moment, I need to focus on getting Roxanne out, which is proving to be a problem. Especially when the solicitor I sent hasn’t returned my calls.

I’m pulling a t-shirt over my head when there’s a quick rap on my bedroom door before it flies open and Zak bursts in.

“Yeah, come on in, Zak.”

“Sorry, but this is important. Mitch just called, and apparently Rox was released without charge an hour ago.”

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