Accidental Knight: A Marriage Mistake Romance(34)

“Hmm, I think I’ve heard about this before on TV or somewhere...how there are barely any good numbers on missing Native American women.”

I separate the photos a bit, more photos than I can count. My stomach churns sick, hot anger.

“Yeah. And every time Jupiter Oil goes on or near a reservation, cases like these multiply. Once upon a time, I thought it was coincidence, thought I was jumping at ghosts, but fuck. I’m not wrong. It’s all there, clear as day.”

“Holy hell. Drake, I...I don’t even know what to say. What do we do?”

I have a few ideas, but before I can tell her, my phone goes off so loud we both nearly jump.

I pull it out of my pocket. Sheridan.

“Yeah?” I say, walking to the far side of the room for as much privacy as possible.

“Hey, Drake, it’s Reynold. I got the paperwork and it’s all been filed.”

Now’s not the time, dammit.

“Gotcha,” I tell him, hiding what I really think. “Thanks for the update. I’m a little preoccupied at the moment.”

“Ah, say no more. I’m assuming Annabelle must be nearby?” Sheridan says.

I glance at the bed, where she’s flipping through the files, thankfully so engrossed she’s not eavesdropping.

“Yeah,” I head into the hall to make sure she can’t hear anything he says.

“Well, I’ll keep this brief then. I got your note. Does it surprise you that Jonah never told her about the prenup or the custody deal? If her parents had known that she knew, they’d have twisted it to turn her against him. I guarantee you they considered it but knew it could backfire. Jonah Reed covered all of his bases legally. I did the paperwork myself. They’d end up with nothing if they ever took Annabelle away from him.”

I don’t doubt his words. It makes sense, but still hate the fact that Jonah neglected to mention it.

“I’m sure she was shocked,” he continues. “Jonah knew what he was doing, though. We both know it. Now you just have to convince her, without scaring the poor girl half to death.”

He pauses, but I don’t comment.

“Drake? Does she know everything else?” he asks, clearly referring to the marriage.

“Not yet.”

His sigh echoes through my phone. “Well, it’s all finalized. You’ve got your copies. Call if you need my help.”

“Thanks. Take care.” I click off and step into the doorway of my room.

Then I see what Bella’s holding, and my heart damn near stops.

Fuck.

She’s got a red file folder. The same one I’d purposefully left inside the safe. My ’copy’ the lawyer alluded to.

Why the hell didn’t I shut that door?

Slowly, furiously, Bella looks up. Her gaze rips through me like a dagger.

“There you are. Finally. Care to tell me just what the hell this is?”





7





Trust Drake (Bella)





I can’t believe what I’m seeing.

What I’m reading.

The last will and testament of Annabelle Amelia Reed-Larkin? Larkin?

Not my name. Not today or tomorrow or ever.

Oh, but that’s my signature, all right.

Drake’s just standing there, staring at me, every easy explanation I hoped he’d spit out evaporating by the second.

I grab the will out of the folder, tucked behind that mind-melting paper. There’s more.

Proxy marriage? What the fricking hell is that?

It’s got something to do with Annabelle Amelia Reed. Bride.

And apparently, Drake Allen Larkin. Groom.

“What’s going on? Why won’t you answer me?” It comes out almost as shrill as Mom’s voice, another thing that makes me cringe.

Drake inhales sharply and holds up a huge hand, the same kind of gesture I use to calm Edison. “Listen, Bella, your grandf—”

“Stop! Stop right there!” My parents’ visit might’ve pushed me to the edge, but this – this hot heap of craziness – shoves me right over the cliff without even a kiss goodbye.

I need space. Air. Distance.

Desperate to escape, I bolt past him, flying out the door and down the hall.

His footsteps aren’t far behind.

Oh, God. He’s following. Of course, he is, because that’s what major league creepers who swindle old men and marry their granddaughters without their permission do.

So I break into a run, pumping my knees, a vicious burn slicing up my body as I stumble down the stairs and try not to fall on my face.

Knowing it’s the only room with a deadbolt, I dash into Gramps’ old office and slam the door shut, locking it behind me.

His fist slams into the door a second later. “Bella, open up! Let me explain. Please. This isn’t what it looks like.”

Hell to the no.

I’m in no mood to hear anything he has to say.

There’s no rational excuse on earth that can explain away a sham marriage.

My lungs hurt. I throw the file folder on the desk and plant my hands on my knees, lowering my head, stretching so I don’t pass out.

Married to Drake Larkin? That’s effing impossible.

And here I thought my parents were the bad guys.