Forbidden With Me - Leigh Lennon Page 0,43

of my view, is the cat picture, the first one I’d ever painted for him. “You kept it?” The tears pool toward the edge of my eyes, and I grab them before they fall from my cheeks.

“Malia, I’ve told you, the impact you’ve made in my life has been profound, and I all I’ve ever wanted was to bring you justice for the life you lost with your family.”

It always goes back to finding justice and being a case to him. I mean, I want nothing more than to find the sick fuck who’s detonated a bomb on my life. I can’t dwell on any of this because I want to live in the here and now, in the presence of the man who framed all my art throughout the years.

“I may not have been able to keep in verbal contact with you, but this was my way to keep you in my heart.”

Be still my heart. His words are about to undo me right now. I have very little experience with a guy. Just a sloppy kiss with Micah Summers after our senior prom, only because Georgia begged me to go with her date’s best friend.

But Wells is so unreadable, and maybe it’s the age gap. At the end of the day, I’m still thirteen years younger than him, taboo for many. In my thoughts, my quietness has him concerned when he passes the invisible line he hadn’t crossed yet, moving closer to me as his body, massively morphing me, leans over, and tips my head to the side.

“You okay, sweetheart?” he asks.

My smile wavers. I can feel it turn downward, and honestly, I’m conflicted. But I won’t tell him this. I’m more than okay in his space. I want to be here, but under these circumstances, it’s horrible. People have died, but I’m with Wells, and it makes me happy. I ping-pong my gaze everywhere and anywhere, besides his eyes. My thoughts are broken in my head, and they sure as shit will come out more broken if I attempt to explain them.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I don’t believe myself.

“I don’t believe you, not for one moment, but I’m not going to push, either. So, for that reason, I’m going to let you get yourself unpacked while Higgie and I go over some of the case files in my office. Okay?” he asks.

“Okay,” I mutter, walking away from his closeness.

“Hey, sweetheart, you can come to me with anything. I hope you know this.”

I bob my head up all the while I wobble and waver on every emotion I’ve experienced while back in Seattle. But a thought occurs to me when something pops in my head.

“Hey, Wells?”

He stops, pivoting his entire body to me. His resolve to be at my beck and call confuses me more. But it’s nice for once to have this attention, though it messes with me as to who I am to Wells Shanahan. “Yeah, sweetheart, what is it?”

“Do you have every picture I sent you still?”

“To the very last one.” He doesn’t have to think but spins around, and his minty orange aftershave leaves with him. I instantly miss his force, the part of him I don’t have to see to know he’s there. I can just sense him, and I’m instantly calmed.

Chapter 15

Wells

“Can you be any louder, asshole?” I ask Higgie, whose voice must carry through the wall. “She’s on the other side and doesn’t need to hear anymore about this fucked-up case.” My hands rake through my hair because the sleepless nights are getting to me.

He doesn’t reply, but lowers his voice, shuffling through the pictures from last night in comparison to the Strickland murders from so long ago. “You understand the house of the new victims is similar to the Stricklands’ house, right?” Now, his voice is barely an audible whisper when I sit down next to him and look at the similarities. I noticed it last night, how the dining room was off the foyer, and the kitchen was behind it, with a sunroom through a small hallway.

The Mastille family had dark features like the Stricklands, too, all with almost jet black hair and dark brown eyes. The parents were in their forties like Maria and Martin. The boy was twelve, close to Cabe’s age, and the Mastille daughter was sixteen. The similarities were too uncanny and a coincidence like this, almost never is a mere coincidence.

“Did you compare the family from last night to Malia’s family?” I ask, waiting to