Drop Dead Gorgeous(88)

Black Widow?

The hurt of the names I’ve heard hundreds of times is nothing compared to whatever Blake probably calls me in his head. Pity Fuck Roulette?

With my history, Blake has to be afraid that he’s tempting fate by spending time with me.

It’d serve him right. I hope he pays.

Malicious thoughts flood me, my eyes burning hot.

I don’t even know what I’m doing, but somehow, the coaster I’m still holding clatters to the floor once again, and I bolt for the door, knocking over a chair as I go.

“Zoey?” Judge Hopkins calls from his desk, but I don’t stop. I have to get out of here.

I am such a fool. I knew better, knew not to hope and dream. But this time, it’s not the person I care about who’s been cut down by the cruelty of fate.

This time . . . it’s me.

Or perhaps the irony is that when I finally put myself first, started to care for myself instead of everyone else, and believed that maybe I was worth the risk, I’m the one hurt worst of all.

Out the door of the courtroom, I run down the stairs and then down another flight to my basement hidey hole. The frigid room is still warmer than the ice that’s running through my veins, freezing my heart back into a solid, impenetrable fortress.

“Zoey?” a deep voice says from the door.

I wipe at my eyes furiously, not wanting to be seen as weak, even though I’m falling apart. “Yes?”

“You want me to kill him?” Jeff asks deadpan.

Or maybe he’s serious? I’m not sure.

But wait . . .

“What?”

Jeff rolls his eyes. “Blake Hale. As soon as I saw that damn invoice, I knew you’d been playing Nancy Drew with him as your Hardy Boy. If I’d known he was sniffing around, I would’ve run him off.”

He says it as though that would be a kindness, and I suppose it would’ve been because then I wouldn’t have ruined the potential case or gotten my heart broken.

Again.

“You’ve got your quirks, Zoey, but you don’t deserve the shit that’s happened to you, least of all, this. Just blink twice and I’ll take care of things.”

A fresh burst of tears pours out of my soul, but with them comes a tiny laugh that makes snot bubble from my nose. I grab a tissue and try to wipe it all away, every last bit of snot, tears, and pain.

“It’s okay. I knew better. I shouldn’t have thought it would be any different.” He pats my shoulder awkwardly, and as sad as it is, it’s the closest thing I’ve had to parental comfort in so long that I lean into it. “I’m sorry I messed up the case.”

“Pshaw. Don’t worry about that none. If Yvette killed him, she ain’t getting her money, and like I told you, today was about money, not law. I can still investigate. You might be surprised to learn this, Zoey, but I’m not half-bad at figuring stuff out myself, so if there’s a way to do it legally, I will.”

“You promise?”

“I promised Richard Horne, same as I do every person in the county, to serve and protect. I couldn’t protect him, but I can make sure he’s served proper justice.”

“Thanks, Jeff.”

“Now, you’d best get out of here. I’m betting that Hale fellow is gonna be down here as soon as Mike bangs his gavel and that you’d rather be gone when he gets here. You can go see Martha if you want. She’ll fix you up. Probably have you eating cookies in fifteen minutes. She’s got this new recipe she’s playing with, some oatmeal raisin thing with zucchini in it. Oh, don’t tell her I know about the zucchini because she thinks she’s sneaking me some green vegetables, but the truth is, I’m the one sneaking extra cookies.”

He’s right.

About Martha, but more importantly, that I don’t want to see Blake.

Not now, not ever. I’m afraid I’d be inclined to call down hellfire and fury, beg the universe to do to him what it’s done to me. And I don’t want that on my shoulders.

So I take Jeff’s advice and leave but forego Martha’s, running to Holly’s to hide. But now I really want to drown my sorrows in some cookies.





Chapter 22





Blake





I’m listening to Frederick, getting more and more frustrated as he and Mr. Monroe make Everlife sound like nothing more than a scam.

That’s not who we are, not who I am. I’m damn proud of what I do and the sense of peace I give my clients while they’re living, and their families after their death.

But we also don’t rush through claims willy-nilly because someone is in a hurry, and we certainly don’t pay out benefits when there’s a reasonable question of cause of death.

My blood is boiling, and I desperately want to look at Zoey to commiserate, but I can’t do anything that could highlight our connection. Especially after everything we’ve done the last week to prevent any accusation of conflict of interest.

When Zoey runs out of the courtroom, I get up to follow her, but Frederick’s assistant, Mason, glares at me with the smallest shake of his head. So I sink back into my chair even though my heart is in the hallway with Zoey.

What’s wrong? Did Sheriff Barnes do or say something to upset her and that’s why he ran out after her?