“You have to have plausible deniability. You have to, Shane.”
“Nothing that is spoken between you and I goes anywhere but you and I.”
“If you were put on the stand that would change. You have a legal obligation. A code of honor.”
“My code is to protect those I love and care about, even my family, who as you know, don’t even deserve it.”
“I’m not sure I deserve it.”
“I am,” he assures me. “And I should have found out the truth a long time ago.”
“I didn’t tell you because—”
“You didn’t have to tell me. I should have seen your fear. I did see it, but I let it lead me to the wrong conclusions. I was so damn wrapped up in my family’s war that I didn’t let myself know what it meant.”
“Let’s keep it real, Shane. It meant I was lying to you. You will never trust me again. Not when everyone around you lies and cheats, and cuts each other’s throats just to watch the other bleed.”
“I’d bleed for you. That’s what you don’t seem to understand.”
“I don’t want you to bleed for me. That’s what you don’t seem to understand. That’s the whole point. Damn it, Shane. This is as real as it gets. This is not about something you can fix.”
“Tell me. Tell me and let me try.”
“Murder. It’s about murder.”
CHAPTER SIX
SHANE
Murder. It’s not a word I expected to hear from Emily’s lips. That she has spoken it and that I am this surprised is a come-to-Jesus-moment for me, and not because of a murder I don’t believe she committed. Not unless it was self-defense. It drives home how right Emily was about how the lies and deception of my family have shrouded everything else before me, including her.
“You’re not saying anything,” Emily says, her fingers curling on my chest beneath my hand. “I bet you’re sorry you came after me now.”
“What I’m sorry for,” I say, “is not seeing how much you needed me.”
“I don’t understand you right now. I said the word ‘murder.’ How can you be this calm?”
“Overreacting doesn’t solve anything.”
“Damn it, Shane,” she hisses, shifting to rest on her knees. “This isn’t me inviting you to solve anything. It’s me telling you why I kept you out of this. This isn’t a problem you can fix. You can’t fix this.”
“I told you, ‘can’t’ isn’t in my vocabulary.”
“It needs to be. Let me say this again. Murder, Shane. This is about murder and you have to distance yourself, something I should have done for you already.”
I reach in my pocket and pull out my money clip to remove the hundred on top, before sticking it back in my pocket, then I grab her hand and press the bill against her palm. “That’s a gift.”
“I don’t want your money.”
“It’s not my money now. It’s yours. Now give it back to me and tell me I’m hired as your attorney.”
She blanches. “No. No, that is not happening. You can’t be my attorney. We practically live together.”
“We do live together because you are never going back to that apartment.”
“You already went to my apartment?”
“Yes. I did, and I saw how you were living. And from this point forward, my home is your home. You live with me now and not because of what I saw in that apartment. It’s the natural next step for us.”
“It’s fast.”
“But it was going to happen anyway. Hire me, so you can talk to me without worrying.”
“No. There are ethical codes for attorneys. Your family might cross them, but you don’t.”
“Representing you is within those ethical codes as long as we were together before you hired me and I disclose that information under the necessary circumstances, which I will.” I take the money back from her. “I accept the job.”
“I didn’t—”
“You did.”
She shifts and pulls her knees to her chest under my shirt, successfully creating a barrier between me and her. “You aren’t going to let this go, are you?”
My hand slides under the T-shirt to rest on her naked ankle. “Like I told you in the bar bathroom. Not a chance in hell. I’m in this with you now, which means it’s time to give me real answers.”
“You’re stubborn.”
“So are you but it’s time to talk.”
She inhales and lets it out. “You’re right,” she agrees. “I know you are, but I don’t even know where to start and I don’t think I want to see your face when you realize all the wrong moves I made. I think. I’m not even objective anymore about what happened and how I got into this.”
“All the more reason to tell me.” I wrap my arms around her calves and pull her closer. “Let’s start simple. Were you here when you called me?”
“No. I was in a coffee shop beside the train station, in the bathroom. I knew I’d be on a train in a matter of minutes, and you wouldn’t find me. Distance seemed the best way to keep you from finding me.”
“But you didn’t get on a train,” I point out.
“I thought if I paid cash, I wouldn’t have to show identification,” she explains, confirming my assumption to be correct. “That wasn’t the case, and I have enough respect for your resources to be sure you’d be waiting on me on the other side of the ride if I identified myself.”