I groan in protest when he breaks away, which makes him chuckle. “I thought we were going to talk,” he reminds me.
“You’re the one who kissed me,” I grumble. “How am I supposed to concentrate on talking when your tongue is in my mouth?”
He pulls me onto the bed. A second later, we’re curled up on our sides facing each other, our legs twined together.
“Were you scared?” I whisper.
His gorgeous face softens. “Not really.”
“You were arrested for murder,” I say in anguish. “I would be scared.”
“I didn’t kill anyone, Ella.” He reaches out and strokes my cheek with his fingertips. “I swear to you, Brooke was alive when I left the penthouse.”
“I believe you.”
And I do. Reed isn’t a killer. He’s got flaws, lots of flaws, but he could never, ever take someone’s life.
“Why didn’t you tell me that you went over there?” I ask in a hurt voice. “What did Brooke say to you? And the blood on your side…”
“I pulled my stitches. I wasn’t lying about that. Must’ve happened on the drive home, because I wasn’t bleeding when I was over there. And I didn’t tell you because I was high on pain meds when you got back, and then we started fooling around…” He sighs. “I got distracted. And honestly, the whole thing didn’t even seem important. I was going to say something in the morning.”
There’s nothing but sincerity on his face, in his voice.
I lean into his palm, which is still cupped over my cheek. “Did she want money from you?”
“Yup,” he says flatly. “She was freaking that Dad scheduled a paternity test. She wanted to make a deal—if I signed over my trust fund to her, she’d take the cash and split. We’d never have to see her again.”
“And you said no?”
“Hell yeah I said no. I wasn’t going to pay that woman a dime. The DNA test would’ve shown that her baby wasn’t mine or Dad’s. I figured we just had to wait it out for a few more days.” His blue eyes darken. “I didn’t think she’d fucking get herself killed.”
“Do you think it was an accident?” I’m grasping at straws, but I honestly don’t understand how any of this happened. Brooke is—was—awful, but none of us wanted her dead. Gone, maybe. But not dead.
Or at least I didn’t.
“I have no clue,” Reed answers. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Brooke had enemies we don’t know about. She could’ve pissed off someone bad enough that they decided to bash her head in.”
I wince.
“Sorry,” he murmurs hastily.
I sit up and rub my tired eyes. “What evidence do the cops have?”
“Video footage of me entering and leaving the building,” he admits. “And something else, too.”
“What?”
“I don’t know. They’re not telling us yet. Dad’s lawyer says that’s normal—they’re still trying to build their case against me.”
I feel sick again. “They don’t have a case. They can’t.” My lungs seize up, making it hard to breathe. “You can’t go to jail, Reed.”
“I won’t.”
“You don’t know that!” I jump off the bed. “Let’s just go. Right now. You and me. I already packed your bag.”
Reed bolts up in shock. “Ella—”
“I mean it,” I interrupt. “I’ve got my fake ID and ten grand in cash. You’ve got a fake ID too, right?”
“Ella—”
“We could create a new life somewhere,” I say desperately. “I’ll get a job waitressing, you can work construction.”
“And then what?” His voice is gentle, and so is his touch as he gets up and tugs me toward him. “Live in hiding for the rest of our lives? Look over our shoulders all the time worrying that the cops will find us and haul me away?”
I bite my lip. Hard.
“I’m a Royal, baby. I don’t run. I fight.” Steel hardens his eyes. “I didn’t kill anyone, and I’m not going to prison for something I didn’t do. I promise you.”
Why does everyone always feel the need to make promises? Don’t they know that promises always get broken?
Reed squeezes my shoulder. “These trumped-up charges will go away. Dad’s lawyers aren’t going to let—”
A high-pitched shriek cuts him off.
We both spin toward the door, but the scream didn’t come from the second floor. It came from downstairs.
Reed and I fly out of my room, reaching the second-floor landing at the same time as Easton.