Irresistible Lines (Blurred Lines Volume 5) Page 4
With all my heart and soul,
Zane
I let the pages drop to my lap. A giant lump of sadness has replaced the fear and is settled in my throat. It’s then that I notice I’m crying.
“Travis.” I choke on his name. Agony pushes its way out and I sob. I cross my arms around myself and release all the pain I’ve kept bottled up for so long.
A loud pounding shakes me out of my reservoir of heartbreak.
Chapter 12
Cadence
The police sweep through the house. Guns pulled. They shout back and forth to each other.
“Clear.”
“This room is clear.”
“Empty.”
“Clear.”
It reminds me of the time they took my mother. I can’t help but think maybe they’ll arrest me too. Maybe I’ll end up just like my mom. We could be fucking cellmates, I think bitterly.
I put on a robe before I answered the door. Short, stock Detective Daniels keeps asking me the same questions over and over again. We’re in Zane’s bedroom. I’m sitting on the bed. My eyes keep glancing out into the jungle paradise. It feels like ages since Zane and I fucked in the pool, but it’s only been hours.
Two police officers took the letters and documents Zane left for me and placed them in plastic bags, claiming they’re evidence.
Detective Daniels starts in again. “Let’s go over this again. When’s the last time you saw John Zane?”
For what seems like the twentieth time, I answer. “Last night. When I fell asleep, he was lying beside me.”
“Right. And what’s your relationship to Mr. Zane?”
I grind my teeth together. “I was his personal assistant and we were lovers.”
“Right.” He gives me a strange look. “You must’ve been pretty goddamned great in the sack and as an assistant to have him give you everything.”
I bite my tongue. Take a deep breath. “I didn’t ask for any of this. I don’t even fucking want it, except for the funeral arrangements for my brother.” I fight back tears.
The policeman nods. “Well, if everything checks out, you can do with it whatever you want.” He flips his notebook closed and sits next to me on the bed. His features soften. “Is there anyone I can call for you?”
I shake my head. “No.” I certainly don’t want to bring Jessica into this. John Cruze’s face floats into my mind, but I won’t call him.
A redheaded female with her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail walks over and shoves the phone Zane left for me in my face. “The phone is clean. No calls have been made or received. There aren’t any contacts, and the phone is as she said, in her name.” The female indicates for me to take the phone.
I cling to it, the last thread holding me to Zane.
“Okay, well, keep that phone close. If we have any more questions, we’ll give you a call.” He stands. “We’ll need to keep everything from the envelope, except your phone, for a few days. Do you have a way to get home?”
It’s then that I realize I don’t. Fuck. I don’t want them to take me to the apartment Jessica and I share. I’m feeling queasy inside, but I push it down and smile. “I do have someone I can call for a ride. So, yeah, I’m all good.”
He lets out a heavy breath. “Alright, Ms. Norton. We’ll get out of your hair.” He hands me a card. “As I said before, I’m Detective Daniels. If you can think of anything, or just have questions, call me. Either way, I’ll call you when your stuff can be released.” He shuts the velvet black box with the pearls and the clit ring, gives me a strange look, and walks out.
I follow them down the stairs and to the door. Once they’re all out of the house, I lock the door and lean against it.
There are no more tears, only solace. It’s never done me any good to feel sorry for myself. I unlock my phone and realize I have no fucking idea what John’s phone number is and it isn’t like I can call Information. “Shit!”
I run back upstairs, hoping there are clothes I can wear. I’m shocked to see all of the clothes Zane bought me when we were at the hotel hung up and folded and tucked into their proper places, including the last purse I used. I open it and look inside. There’s a name and number written on a torn piece of paper in blue ink. The name Zane has written on the paper is: John Cruze.
I can’t help the smile that pushes up the corners of my mouth. Zane might’ve been a perverse son of a bitch, but he really did care, in his own fucked up way.
I take the piece of paper from the purse and dial the number.
“John Cruze,” he answers professionally.
“Hi,” I say, realizing in that instant I don’t get to choose between the two John’s. Zane has chosen for me, and he’s given me permission to be with John Cruze.
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Table of Contents
Main Menu
Cover
Summary
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Contact Breena Wilde
Copyright Information
Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Cover
Summary
Start Reading
Contact Breena Wilde
Copyright Information
Table of Contents
Main Menu
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve