I’m glad I gave Ironwood a heads-up that shit might go down tonight. They won’t work for the Laytons, but they came in for Amber. They didn’t realize she’s just as much of a criminal as the Layton family.
When we reach the ballroom, the entire space has been cleared. Gone are the caterers, the guests, the musicians, everyone. The party’s dead. Cause of death? Gunshot wound.
Some uniformed police officers pass us, going into the hall I just came from. They emerge moments later, Amber in their custody.
Amber doesn’t scream, doesn’t fight. She doesn’t make a fucking sound. Her lips are drawn down in an angry curve, her eyes lowered.
We walk through the ballroom and out of the hotel.
“Troy!” Dani ignores the bodyguards and police officers and barrels straight into me.
Something cracks—my heart, I think. All of the emotion I’ve bottled up brims to the surface. I wrap my arms around her and breathe deeply. “Dani.”
“I’m so sorry—Troy, I should’ve listened?—”
“Excuse us, we need to get a statement.” A cop elbows his way over.
Dani tries to keep her arms around my waist, but Edmund appears.
“I’ve already given my statement.” Edmund touches her shoulder. “Danica, we’ll go home and wait for Troy. Because Troy, you’re coming home after this, right?”
I look around at the cops, bodyguards, EMTs, and hotel staff bustling around. “Yeah. If they let me.”
“They will.” Dani leans back so she can stare into my eyes. Fuck, I missed her. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Not now, and…and not before.”
Well, I did some things wrong. But not as much as she was led to believe by those reports.
“I’ll send Mink to you, Troy.” Edmund’s voice is firm and he touches Dani’s shoulder again. He gives me a meaningful look. “You still work for the Laytons. Far as I’m concerned, you never stopped.”
Mink is the family lawyer, and she’s gotten me out of all kinds of trouble—trouble I’ve done, and trouble I didn’t do.
I hate letting Dani go, but I have to. Leaning forward, I press a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be home soon.”
Edmund
A little before midnight, Troy texted that he was still waiting to give a statement at the police station. He’s used to that shit, and Mink was with him, so I’m not worried.
Danica and I went to bed—separate rooms, because she’s insisting on sleeping on her own.
But sometime after falling asleep, I wake up.
She hasn’t made a sound, so I’m not sure what alerted me. But I’m glad I woke, because Danica stands at the side of my bed. Her silver-gray camisole and sleep shorts look soft. I have to flex my fists to keep from reaching out to touch her.
“Hey, angel.” I sit up. “You okay?”
“Another bad dream.” Her voice is hoarse from sleep—or screaming. Did she scream and I didn’t hear her?
I flip the sheet off me and scoot over. “Climb on in, angel.”
She slides onto the mattress next to me, her smooth legs brushing against mine. I groan and tug her closer, pressing my hand to her lower back. Something about her makes me feel possessive. I don’t know what it is, but I’m tired of fighting the impulse.
When she’s lying half on top of me, I ask, “Do you want to talk about your nightmare?”
“It’s the same as usual. I’m sinking and I can’t breathe. It’s like the mud is trying to pull me in. Quicksand or something.” She shudders and presses closer. “I don’t want to think about it anymore.”
I wonder if I should push her to talk about it. If she keeps having these nightmares, maybe her subconscious is trying to tell her something, I don’t know. My mother used to have a “dream therapist”—I think she was having an affair with him, actually—and she would go on and on about how our minds are trying to tell us things through our dreams.
“All right.” I kiss the top of her head. Her hair is wavy from the updo she wore to the party and I smooth it with my free hand. Everything about this girl is soft…except her steely resolve.
