Fidelity (Infidelity #5)(6)
“Alex, you’re a law student. Do something.”
I shook my head. “Evidence?” I asked. “Do you have evidence?”
“Miss,” a female officer said, “we’re not at liberty to discuss anything at this time. Just know that if there weren’t sufficient evidence, we wouldn’t be here tonight. We’re taking Mr. Spencer to the Savannah-Chatham station where he’ll be formally charged.”
“Charged with what?” I tried again.
Detective Means turned toward Alton as Officer Emerson again instructed Bryce to place his hands behind his back. “If there’s another way out of this office rather than through that crowd, we’ll be happy to oblige. We don’t want to make this worse than it is.”
“You don’t want to make it worse,” Alton mocked.
“No, you can’t…” Suzanna cried. “Are the handcuffs really necessary?”
Neither officer responded. It was as if only I heard her words. Maybe she’d slipped into another of Montague Manor’s dimensions.
“Give me a second.” Alton lifted the receiver from the phone on his desk and pushed a button. Almost immediately he started barking orders. “Move everyone to the rear of the house. Clear the hallway and entry. I don’t give a fuck how you do it. Do it now!”
His commands had momentarily sucked the air from the room. We all stood in silence as the receiver slammed against the telephone.
With his hands now secure, Bryce turned toward Suzanna. “Mom, I didn’t. You know I wouldn’t.” He turned my way. “Alex, you know me. Remember what I told you about the last time I was arrested. I can’t do this again.” His pleas went toward Alton. “Get me out of there. Don’t let me spend the night.”
Each time Bryce spoke, Alton’s complexion became a deeper shade of red. “Shut up!”
It was then I noticed Judge Townsend. He’d quietly moved as far away from the mayhem as possible. My guess was that he didn’t want the police to notice him. I waited until the phone on Alton’s desk rang again before I made my way toward the judge.
“The exit is clear,” Alton announced, his entire demeanor seemingly resigned.
“No,” I whispered to Judge Townsend.
His eyes met mine.
“My answer is no. I do not take him as my husband.”
The judge’s lips thinned as he nodded before quickly returning his gaze to the scene before us.
“Alton!” Suzanna pleaded.
“We’ll have Ralph Porter at the station before you get there,” Alton reassured Bryce. “Don’t worry and for God’s sake, don’t say another damn word. Keep your mouth shut. If you do that, you’ll be home tonight with your new wife.”
As Officer Emerson opened the office door to lead Bryce away, the detective turned my way. “Oh, new wife? Mrs. Spencer, I’m so sorry.”
I shook my head. No, this couldn’t be happening.
As her apology faded away, with my arms around my midsection, I leaned against the wall and slid to the floor. Behind my closed eyes, the chaos dulled and the footsteps disappeared.
I thought of Nox. I remembered my escape.
Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe I could still slip away. I imagined easing into the crowd of guests, my presence going unnoticed as they murmured amongst themselves, the rumors growing by the second about what had happened.
“Alexandria, dear,” Suzanna said as she touched my arm.
My eyes sprung open and I looked up. “What?”
She held out my handbag. “Come on, dear, we need to go.”
I shook my head. “Go? No, I can’t leave.”
“Alexandria, come with us.”
Alton’s demand hung in the air. I scanned the office, now relatively empty. Only Alton and Suzanna were there, both staring down at me.
“Where are we going?”
“To the police station, dear,” Suzanna responded. “Your husband needs you.”
THE IMPACT TRANSCENDED my fist, sending shockwaves throughout my body. The crunch of breaking bones became music to my ears and the scent of blood a delicacy to my nose. One solid punch to the man’s cheek was all it took. Unlike the anxiety brought on by the tranquil sounds of the Georgia estate, the brutal connection focused my attention, taking me back to the octagon, to the combination of exertion and satisfaction. With one clean hit, adrenaline flooded my bloodstream and the guard dropped to the hard Georgia clay.
Flexing my fingers, I took a step back and surveyed his limp body. Damn. He fell too fast, too easy. Every nerve within me craved more.
From the moment I received news that Charli had gotten into that damn limousine with her stepfather, I’d wanted to hit. My fists itched with the need to collide with something—with anything. I’d longed to hear the whoosh of air as it was expelled forcibly from someone’s lungs and sense the impact as bone met bone, and even to witness the spray of blood as a nose broke.
That euphoria brought on while watching someone fall to their knees, as their muscles lost tension and their brain switched off, was second only to the best and most satisfying orgasm. Both were powerful drugs to my system. I could do without them—abstain—but once the high was within my grasp, like an addict I needed more.
My head whipped from side to side as I sought out another victim. Through the lowlying fog, only stripped stalks of tobacco were visible in one direction and clusters of trees in the other. To assure myself of the guard’s unconsciousness, I kicked his side with the tip of my shoe, the dust upon the leather leaving a mark on his dark jacket, the one with the Montague emblem. He didn’t flinch or even groan as I reached down and moved his battered face from side to side. Two fingers to his neck confirmed his pulse was strong. It was then as I leaned down that I heard a soft static-filled plea coming from his ear.