Shame on Him (Fool Me Once #3)(13)

This is not good. Not good at all.





CHAPTER 7




Lorelei. Come on, snap out of it, baby. Look at me.”

The voice registers in my brain but it doesn’t make sense. That voice wouldn’t be talking to me this nicely. He’d also never call me “baby.”

I feel warm hands on my face and my head is turned so I’m no longer staring at Andrew Jameson’s dead body. Now I’m staring at a well-muscled chest in a tight blue shirt. My eyes slowly travel up and I see Dallas staring at me with a worried expression, his thumb wiping away at something on my cheek.

“Jesus Christ, you’re bleeding. Breathe, Lorelei.”

At his command, I let out a shaky breath and suddenly feel tears pooling in my eyes. I blink rapidly, refusing to let them fall. I don’t know what Dallas is doing here or why he’s being so nice to me, but I will absolutely not fall apart in front of him. That will only give him more ammunition.

Glancing around, I realize it’s gotten dark. The sun was setting when I pulled up to Andrew’s house. I must have been sitting here for a while. I remember sitting against the wall, afraid to go outside in case the shooter was still out there.

Everything comes rushing back at once. Talking to Andrew, a few seconds away from him telling me who killed Richard, and then gunshots. I wasn’t even scared at the time—I must have been moving on pure adrenaline. But now the breaths are leaving my lungs quickly. Too quickly. I feel like I’m going to hyperventilate.

Dallas turns my face back to him and bends his head lower so he’s looking directly in my eyes. “Don’t look over there. Just look at me. It’s okay. Nice and slow.”

Nice and slow. In and out. Don’t think about the fact that there’s another dead body just a few feet away from me or that Dallas has the most amazing gray eyes I’ve ever seen and they’re currently looking at me with gentle concern instead of irritation.

Dallas slides his hands off of my cheeks and I immediately miss their warmth. He reaches down and grabs both of my wrists, pulling my hands up and inspecting them.

“Fuck. Your hands are full of glass,” he curses as he gently starts plucking a few pieces out.

I look down and realize he’s right. I stare unblinking at the palms of my hands. They are covered in dots of blood and tiny shards of glass and they suddenly hurt like hell.

He lets go of one of my hands and quickly reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a handkerchief. He brings it up to the side of my face and presses it against my cheek. I flinch when it touches my skin and feel a small sting of pain.

“It’s all right—it’s just a small scratch. A bullet must have grazed you,” he says calmly.

The look on his face contradicts the softness in his tone. He’s clenching his teeth and a muscle ticks in his jaw. He’s probably angry with me that I came in here, acting like I knew what I was doing, and now a prime suspect is dead.

I want to defend myself, but I can’t make the words form. What if it was my fault? Maybe someone saw me leaving Stephanie’s house and they followed me here. What if I’m the reason Andrew Jameson is dead?

The distant sound of sirens pulls Dallas’s gaze away from mine and he quickly looks out the open door and then back to me.

“Hurry, get up.”

He grabs my arms and pulls me to my feet.

“The cops are going to be all over this place in ten minutes. You need to get the f*ck out of here,” he tells me, pulling me toward the door.

“What? What are you talking about? I can’t leave,” I tell him, finally finding my voice and planting my feet firmly in place, refusing to move. “I just saw a man shot to death. A man that I was questioning in a murder investigation. I need to tell the police what happened.”

Dallas huffs in irritation, clenching my arm and trying to pull me closer to the door. Even though I’m a little confused by the careful way he handled me moments ago, it doesn’t escape my notice that right now all he cares about is getting me out of here. Judging by all of our interactions since we met, there’s only one possible explanation for his need to shove me out the door before anyone sees me.

“You just want the stupid glory all for yourself. I hate to break it to you, but I’M the one who found out about Andrew Jameson, not you. I got here first and you can’t stand that, can you?” I fire at him.

The sirens are getting closer and Dallas turns away from me to look out the front door once more.

“Get your head out of your ass for two seconds here and think about what you’re saying,” Dallas says angrily, his hands still wrapped tightly around my arms. “You were here questioning someone for a murder investigation. A murder investigation that you aren’t supposed to be anywhere near.”

His words flip a switch in my brain and all the fight leaves my body. He’s right. What would I even tell the police when they got here? That I just happened to stop by the house of a man who worked with Richard Covington and it was just a coincidence that he was shot down right in front of me?

“You need to get the hell out of here right now.”

I stare at Dallas, more confused than I’ve ever been. Why is he helping me? He should be making sure I get thrown in jail for what I’ve been doing.

“Why are you doing this?” I whisper.