Page 90 of First Touch

At that moment, I thought I just might. I was frustrated from all the dead ends. Sick of feeling like a yo-yo, up and down with theories that changed with every new bit of information I gathered. It had been a while since the last time I’d asked Reeve about his past, anyway. Maybe it was time to try again.

And since he wasn’t coming home until the next night, I had a day to think of what I’d say.

Or chicken out. Either was possible at this point.

The men left sometime around nine and the house suddenly grew quiet and still. It put me on edge, especially after Parker’s remark. I was already wary of Reeve, knowing he might have participated in getting Amber killed. But if his staff was aware of it as well, then I was in much more danger than I’d thought. Anyone could be after me at any time. What the hell had I been thinking going on a trip with him?

Oh, shit. That reminded me I hadn’t gotten a new burner phone from Joe before I’d left. I’d long ago deleted his real number from my cell. So not only did I have no way to contact him if I needed him, but also, no one knew where I was.

I tried to go to sleep, but all I could do was toss and turn and waffle between feeling panicked and feeling lonely. Either Reeve hadn’t done anything horrible, I was reading things wrong and I missed him, or he had and I was reading things right and I still missed him. After an hour of it, I pulled my robe on over my night slip and headed down to the den to watch some TV and get my mind on something – anything – else.

I flipped through the channels for twenty minutes, finding nothing. Just as I was ready to give up and pick up my Kindle, a familiar face filled the screen – Chris Blakely’s.

“It’s not a theory. It’s not a guess. It’s a fact,” Chris was saying. It was one of those late-night interview shows where the host sat behind a desk and the guest lounged in a modern deco chair. Not a popular show – he wouldn’t be asked to one of those with his current career status – but one on some cable channel. I didn’t even recognize the interviewer, a redheaded woman with big lips.

It was something to watch, at least. I tossed the remote aside and settled back into the couch.

“But you still haven’t said why,” Big Lips said next.

“I’m not going to get into all the reasons I have that I know he did it – let me say, though, that by reasons, I mean proof. Missy was completely robbed of her life. She knew things she shouldn’t and Reeve Sallis took care of that.”

My stomach dropped. No. No, no, no. He did not just —

“If this proof is as irrefutable as you say it is, how did Reeve Sallis get away with it?” Big Lips looked skeptical, which was admirable considering how quickly Hollywood liked to buy into scandals.

Chris sat back with a smug expression. “He’s a rich, powerful man. Rich, powerful men get away with things all the time. It’s the law of capitalism. It’s especially an issue when those rich, powerful men have ties to men who are richer and more powerful.”

And now he’d referenced the mob. I sat forward, tense, wishing I could stop listening, but needing to hear just exactly what the idiot was saying.

“What sort of connections are you implying?”

“I can’t comment on that.” Good Chris. Stop there. He didn’t. “But people who live outside the law.”

“Like government people?”

“No. Wrong type of outside the law. I’m talking about the type of organized people that deal specifically with crime-oriented situations.”

I cringed. She was going to keep asking until she got something. That’s the way those interviewers worked. Did he not know anything?

Sure enough, her next question was, “Like the mafia?”

I gasped. Fuck. Just… fuck.

Finally Chris’s expression grew wary. “I’ve said too much already. Let’s just say Reeve Sallis is not innocent. End of story.”

Frustrated did not begin to describe how I felt at the moment. Angry was closer. Pissed off. Also, frightened. If Chris kept blabbing his big mouth, he was going to get himself in trouble. Hadn’t he learned anything from Missy’s death? And there was no telling how long it would be before his reasons led back to Joe. Back to me. Back to Reeve. I wasn’t just standing on the sidelines – I was in the thick of it. His time in the spotlight could very well come at a price, and who’d have to pay it?

I doubted it would only be him.

It was too upsetting to watch further. I searched for the remote, but couldn’t find where I’d flung it, so I crossed to the TV and switched it off manually before I heard more.

When I turned back, I was startled to see Reeve at the mouth of the room. He was wearing a dark blue suit, his tie loose, his jacket unbuttoned.

Without thinking, I smiled. I might have been anxious about Parker’s words, but in this moment I realized it wasn’t the emotion that weighed heaviest on my heart. I’d missed Reeve. Truly missed him. More than I wanted to admit to him or myself. I was two seconds from rushing into his arms, whether he expected it or not.

Except, then I noticed his narrowed eyes and hard expression. They told me he’d heard at least part of the interview. He wouldn’t automatically assume I’d known about the whole thing, would he? I mean, I did, but there wasn’t any reason for him to know that. And I certainly hadn’t known Chris was going to take the information we’d figured out together and blast it all over national television.

Reeve had assumed things about Chris and I before, though. Would it be far-fetched to think he wouldn’t now?