Page 20 of Seduced By the Billionaire
“There’s no one here.”
Juliette turned to see Brittany striding up the walk from the alley. She must have tried the back door already.
“Where’s Waylon?” I need my money.
“I was walking up the alley when that hot cop from last night showed up, shoved him into the backseat of his car.”
Juliette’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious? Why?”
But she knew the answer, didn’t she? Brittany had lied, told Ronan that Waylon had been arguing with the dead guy. And Ronan seemed to believe that Jason was a bookie. Of course, Waylon looked guilty.
But the lack of blood on Waylon should have been enough to clear him. Did they think Jason had been stabbed with a fire poker or something from across the room?
“I think because of that argument thing,” Brittany said with a triumphant smile. “I sure as hell didn’t tell them the dead guy was there for you.”
There for me. Dead because of me. “Thanks for that.”
“Hey, it’s not like you killed some customer in the back room.”
Customer? But Juliette didn’t correct her.
Brittany shrugged, nonchalant. “I mean, even the cops seem to know you’re innocent.”
That was true enough… she thought. But they had just taken Waylon in, and she looked guiltier than he did—she’d been the one with blood on her hands.
“Do they really think that guy was a bookie?”
“A bookie?” Brittany pursed her lips. “I have no idea. I kinda thought that girl from Waylon’s office killed him.”
Her heart stopped, the humid breeze hissing down the back of her sweater, raising gooseflesh. “What girl?”
“You didn’t see her back there? She was heading into Waylon’s office when I went back to freshen up. That’s when I saw your friend and came to get you.”
Juliette nodded. The girls often used wet wipes between dances. All it took was one headstand in front of a guy with beer breath to make your G-string funky. “Who is she? Does she work here?”
“I’ve never seen her before.”
“Do you think that she?—”
“Girl, I have no idea. But if she stabbed him and ran out, I wouldn’t blame her. We all want to stab these bastards sometimes.” Brittany brushed her dark locks from her face. “Maybe Waylon’s new girl just has more balls than we do.”
Right. More balls. The scar on her chest throbbed. But there was something else there, too—the tiniest flicker of hope. The same fragile hope she’d felt when Ronan had mentioned Jason being a bookie.
She needed Jason’s death to be about something he’d done—something unrelated to her. Maybe it was even an accident. What if the new girl had been trying to escape Waylon, and Jason had gotten in the way? Six stab wounds were definitely overkill, but panic made people do crazy things. Illogical things.
Juliette knew that firsthand.
She let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, and Brittany smiled sympathetically, probably assuming she was frustrated about Waylon’s absence—about the money. But she wasn’t frustrated, not now. Could she actually stay here? Did she have to run?
You just want to stay with Ronan. See what his hands feel like on your skin—what he does when you’re not separated by glass.
Her heart clenched. Those thoughts were just more reasons to leave. Any connection was a risk, especially one with a cop. Jason was the first “date” she’d been on since leaving Daniel. He’d somehow figured out where she worked, had kissed her… then died immediately after. That was too much coincidence, wasn’t it?
If only she could get into that phone. She’d spent three hours at the library this morning, making a list of potential passcodes using social media clues. But she knew so little about Jason that her social engineering tactics had hit a wall. The combinations she’d tried this morning—his birthday, his mother’s birthday, Babe Ruth’s birthday—had all failed.
Brittany squeezed her arm. “It’s okay, girl. I’m sure Waylon will be back soon enough. And if he’s not… maybe we’ll get a new boss who will give us all of our tips.” Brittany pulled a piece of gum from her pocket and folded it into her mouth.
“Yeah, maybe,” Juliette said, but her mind was elsewhere.
