Dying for Rain (The Rain Trilog - BB Easton Page 0,40

his hands into, so he drapes one over the crosspiece between the bars, resting his weight on his forearm.

His body is playing for the camera, for the cops, and the audience, but his face is all mine. The way he bites the inside of his bottom lip. The way the black of his pupils swallows the green. The way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he tries to force down his emotions.

I try to swallow mine too.

“Ms. McCartney?” Elliott prods.

Wes raises an eyebrow at me and shifts his gaze to the camera over my shoulder.

“Oh, right,” I mumble to myself, looking at the microphone like it’s an alien tool that I have to figure out how to operate. I tap the soft black dome with my finger before I lift it to my mouth. I tell myself to face the camera and say something, but I can’t bear to pull my eyes away from the man standing in front of me.

So, I don’t.

“Mr. Parker—” I clear my throat, hoping no one notices that I sound like I’m about to cry.

“Please, call me Wes.”

He smiles, just for me, and the warmth I feel brings tears to my eyes.

I blink them away and try again.

“Wes”—I swallow—“how are you? I mean, in here. How are you holding up in here?”

God, I’m bombing this!

“How am I?” Wes’s eyes widen in surprise. “I’m …” He shakes his head, looking for the words before a tiny smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I’m better than I was a few minutes ago.”

Warmth floods my cheeks as I try to come up with an actual question.

“Well … that’s good. Mr. Parker—”

“Wes.”

“Wes.” I blush. “I saw your sentencing on TV yesterday. It was the first one ever televised. Personally, I was shocked by the lack of evidence and eyewitness testimony presented by the state as well as the lack of deliberation before you were found guilty. Do you believe you were given a fair trial?”

I exhale, relieved that I managed to ask a professional-sounding question without bursting into tears.

Wes snorts. “A fair trial? No. I was given a speaking part in The Governor Steele Show.”

“Had you been given a fair trial, do you think you still would have been found guilty?”

Please say no. Please say no.

“The only thing I’m guilty of is trying to help somebody I love,” Wes responds, the word love wrapping around me like a ghost blanket.

He reaches through the bars and takes the microphone from my hand, letting his fingers graze mine in the process. The callused tips leave a trail of fire in their wake, and the moment they’re gone, I have to twist the sides of my skirt in my fists to keep from reaching for him so that I can feel it again.

Wes faces the camera and gives the people of Georgia his best smolder. “I want everyone out there to picture the person they care about most. Your mother. Your child.” Wes looks at me. “Your best friend. Your wife. Now, picture them injured or sick. Would you give them medicine if you thought it would save their life? Bandage their wounds? Because if so, it’s just a matter of time before you’re standing where I am.”

I catch the sight of Michelle out of the corner of my eye, making the sign for cut with her hand across her throat. I guess Wes’s little speech might have gone a bit too far. I reach up to take the microphone back, but he holds on to it, forcing me to stand there with my hand wrapped around his. Electricity courses through my veins as he tilts it toward my mouth so that I can speak, but I can’t.

I’m touching Wes.

He’s here.

He’s alive.

And the only question I have left for him is one I can’t ask out loud.

How do I get you out of here?

Wes

She’s here.

She’s actually fucking here.

I touch her again just to make sure. I can’t stop touching her.

She’s so fucking beautiful—camera-ready with that slicked-back hair and red lipstick. Her big blue eyes are framed by a million jet-black lashes, but the tears welling up inside them are already starting to make her mascara run.

I want to reach up and run a thumb over her cheek, but the blinking red light on the camera five feet away keeps me from doing it. I don’t know how Rain got in here or what kind of trouble she’ll be facing if I blow her cover, so as much as