Jennifer Morey - Armed and Famous

Remy heard her own breathing, hating her weakness, helpless to be strong when the consequences were so great. She was innocent, but no one would believe her.

“Remy?” Lincoln took her hand.

She focused on his blue eyes.

“It’ll be okay.”

Her heart did a flip from the unexpected kindness, kindness she hadn’t had in more than two months. But he couldn’t possibly know it would be okay.

“We’ll put them off for now.”

Because he wanted to know what she was hiding, why men would not only try to kill her, they’d now want him dead right along with her. She owed him the truth. There was no refuting that. But the consequences were unforgiving if he didn’t believe her.

“Come on.”

Keeping her hand, he led her away from the SUV to the waiting detectives and officers. Did they know? Had Wade told them?

She tightened her grip on Lincoln’s powerful and steady hand. Walking toward the detectives made her knees weak. Lincoln hooked her arm with his and supported her on her death walk. She was seldom like this. There was very little she allowed to rock her. She was a strong woman, but going to jail for crimes she hadn’t committed threatened to break her.

“Ms. Lang?” the purple-shirted detective repeated.

“Yes,” Lincoln said. “This is Remy Lang.”

“Who are you?”

“Why don’t we go in and talk?” he suggested.

The detective passed a studied gaze over Remy and then nodded. They went inside; the officers waited outside. In case she ran?

Lincoln guided Remy to the sofa and sat beside her, a stranger and yet someone she could rely on.

The older detective sat in the chair adjacent to the sofa, and the taller one took out a pen and notebook and remained standing.

After the tall detective introduced himself as Baker and his partner Henderson, he asked, “How well do you know a Mr. Wade Nelson?”

She squeezed Lincoln’s hand, only then realizing she held it again.

“Not well. I met him two months ago.”

“How did you meet?” Baker asked.

Her heart was beating so hard, and her mouth went dry. “I...” This was rapidly going downhill. “Why are you asking me about Wade?”

The detective paused, scrutinizing her. “He was murdered last night.”

Remy covered her mouth with her free hand. Shock ripped away anything else she’d suspected. Murdered...

“How? Who?” They were here questioning her. Did they think...

“How did you meet Mr. Nelson?” Henderson asked from the chair.

She had to lie about that. She was a terrible liar, but she had to now. “I ran into him...at a coffee shop.”

“Which one?”

She gave them the name of one near Wade’s gun store. He went there almost every morning.

“When was the last time you saw him?” Baker asked.

Remy hesitated.

“He came to her house around six o’clock last night,” Lincoln said. “He was threatening her.”

“Was that the last time you saw him?” the detective asked her.

“Yes.” The lie left her numb with dread.

He studied her a moment longer. “Why was he threatening you?”

Remy tried to subdue her shaking but sensed Lincoln picking up on it. “He...h-he must be angry that I broke up with him.”

“You were seeing each other?”

Lincoln was watching her as closely as the detectives.

The lies were terrible and getting worse. “Yes. Not seriously, though. Just...seeing each other once in a while.”

The detectives shared a look, and then Henderson said, “We have a witness who says they saw you meet him last night.”

Remy’s heart flew. Panic engulfed her. She was afraid her breathing gave her away.

“One of Mr. Nelson’s managers said he’d been coming to see you a lot lately, and he was on the phone with him when you arrived at his home at 8:30 p.m. He said Mr. Nelson told him he had to go because you’d shown up.”

“I did go and see him. I tried to convince him to stop threatening me.”

“For not seeing him anymore.” Baker spoke with a hint of cynicism. He didn’t believe her.

She didn’t respond.

“Why did you lie about the last time you saw him?” Henderson asked.

“I...forgot I went to see him last night.”

“You forgot?”

Remy swallowed the constricting fear tightening her throat. “Yes.”

“What time did you leave?” Baker asked.

“I wasn’t there long.” Thank God that was the truth. “Thirty minutes, maybe.”

“And where did you go after that?” Henderson asked.

“Home.”

“Can anyone confirm that for you?” Baker asked.

She glanced over at Lincoln, who met her look and said nothing. He hadn’t seen her come home. No one had. Looking back at Henderson, she reluctantly said, “Probably not.” She hadn’t stopped anywhere on the way home. The only person who could confirm the time she left was dead.

Baker closed his notebook.

Henderson stood. “We’ll be in touch.”

* * *

After the detectives left, Remy changed into jeans and an azure-blue boat-necked T-shirt and rejoined him in her living room. It was after seven o’clock. Late but not that late. Lincoln had felt and seen her trembling when the detectives had questioned her. If she preferred to be alone, he wasn’t picking up on that. But he wasn’t picking up on a willingness not to, either.

“I need to get my dog,” she said, folding her arms in front of her, uncomfortable.

He wondered what had her uncomfortable, the detectives or being alone with him. Maybe that was it. She didn’t want to be alone, but she didn’t want to be alone with him.

“Right.” He led her out of her house, making sure she locked her door, and then ushered her over to his.

Something dug deep into him to ensure no one who dared to come after them again would harm her. It was a strong instinct, one he could not ignore despite her fear of the law. Those detectives had to have known she wasn’t telling the complete truth. So why was he so intent on protecting her? He needed answers. His life was in danger right along with hers now. Wasn’t that enough of a reason? He couldn’t leave her to her own defenses. If those men were going to go after both of them, it made more sense to stick together.

He shut the door as Maddie bounded to Remy for her trademark exuberant greeting, stuffed burger gently clamped between her jaws, pushing up her furry, whiskery, white cheeks.

“Come on, girl,” Remy said.

She was going to leave. Sleep next door. Alone.

“Wait.” Lincoln stepped in her way. “You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“What?” One of her hands went to her stomach, not out of dread; Lincoln was beginning to suspect she couldn’t keep her hands still.

“If those men come back, it’s best if you’re with me. I have a guest room.”

Gaze unwavering, she lowered her hand and hooked her thumbs on the belt loops of her jeans. She didn’t argue. How could she? If she slept alone tonight, she might end up dead.

But the nervous fidgeting, the inability to stay still, revealed her discomfort. Was she wondering if he’d press her for information? He would. But not just yet. He wanted her relaxed when he asked her the questions he had.

“I’ll start dinner. We can go back to your place later so you can pack a bag.” Locking the door, he walked into the kitchen, Maddie on his heels after her ears perked with the sound of the word dinner.

Taking his gun out of the front of his jeans, he set it on the counter. Remy was slower to follow. She eyed the gun and then watched him get some things out of the refrigerator.

“Why do you own a gun?” she asked.

“It’s legal.” He wasn’t ready to tell her more about himself. Keep her guessing for now. He needed her to do the talking first.