Winston tried firing it straight at Ice, but the gun was empty. He flung the weapon from him. Nothing made sense.
“They’re all dead, you know.” Ice indicated the beam above his head. “Every one of your friends is dead, and you’re implicated in just about every murder. Even the poison used to kill Peter is in your cupboard. You feel really bad about it, don’t you?”
Winston was so busy watching Ice push the cable through his fingers, he’d all but forgotten those behind him. Something bit into his neck and then choked him. It happened so fast there was no way to determine what was happening. Then he was hanging, his feet off the ground, a chair knocked over right under him. He kicked with his feet and reached with his hands to try to free the cord choking him, but it was already too late. The world was going black.
Ice looked him directly in the eye. “You tried to kill my wife, you son of a bitch.”
That was the last thing Winston heard before he choked to death.
* * *
Soleil rolled over and looked up at Ice. He thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. When she was like this, drowsy, her eyes half-closed but that soft, welcoming smile on her lips, his heart always stuttered, and his stomach did that slow roll. He loved her. That was the bottom line. He didn’t even care anymore that he was so far gone over her.
“Hey, honey,” she said softly. Her voice was an invitation, even though he’d woken her from a sound sleep. “Did you finish the floor? What time is it?”
“Yes, we finished it, but it took a little longer than we thought it would. Ran into a problem, but the apartment is ready to rent. Bannister is going to move into that one, and we’ll start working on the next one. It’s around three.”
“You sound tired.”
She pushed her fingers through his hair and his scalp tingled. She made him feel good. Welcome. She made him feel as if he belonged there—with her.
“Come get into bed, Ice.”
“I don’t know if I’m cut out for carpentry work,” he said.
“No, you’re not cut out to be a carpenter. You’re a jeweler. Your pieces are beautiful.”
“We all pull our shift,” he said. “I don’t really mind.” He tugged back the covers. She was naked, the way he liked her to be. He slid in next to her and wrapped his arm around her, needing her close. “I love you, princess.” He whispered it to her, uncaring that he was giving so much away.
She put her arm around his chest and snuggled close. “I love you too. Go to sleep.”
Thank fuck she hadn’t looked at the clock.
EIGHTEEN
“Thank you for seeing Soleil here, rather than at your office,” Absinthe said. “She’s been through a lot what with losing her lawyer, and now all this coming out about her former fiancé.”
Jonas Harrington, the local sheriff, and his deputy, Jackson Deveau, both smiled down at Soleil as she stood close to Ice, unknowingly seeking his protection while they greeted the two law enforcement officers at the door.
“Ice,” Jonas said. “Absinthe.”
“Harrington, Deveau,” Absinthe returned while Ice just nodded.
Ice stepped back and gestured toward the great room. “We can go through here to the smaller sitting room. Soleil prefers that.” He took her hand and brought her knuckles to his mouth, smiling at her over their joined hands. She gave him that faint smile that told him she was nervous as hell and didn’t know what to expect.
“Ice, you don’t mind if we speak to Soleil alone for a few minutes?” Harrington said smoothly. “That was part of the deal.”
Ice didn’t need the bullshit reminder. They weren’t kidding anyone. The two men wanted to make certain the club wasn’t holding her hostage or in any way putting influence on her that would make her feel she had no choice but to stay with them.
“I have no problem with that,” he said. “I’ll get coffee. Would either of you like some?”
“Sounds good,” Jonas said. “I take mine black.”
Deveau, a man of few words, just nodded. “Same.”
Ice opened the glass sitting-room door, stopped Soleil just inside and tipped her face up to his. “I’ll only be a few minutes, princess. Absinthe will be right outside the room if you need him. You okay with this?”
She nodded. “Yes, of course.”
Ice didn’t like leaving her when she looked so vulnerable. He hesitated beside Harrington, who was a very perceptive man, and lingered to wait to hear what he had to say. He detested giving anything away to a cop, but he would if it helped Soleil. “Treat her gently,” he advised Jonas.
Harrington studied his face, seeing too much. “You really love her, don’t you?”
“I married her,” Ice said, and turned and walked out. He had to. He needed to be certain he was under control.
Czar had warned him from the beginning that there were too many leads back to Soleil and that, although they’d tied up everything in a neat package for the detectives, they would want to make certain Soleil was where she was because she wanted to be, and that Winston, who appeared to have killed a lot of people, had really done so.
Soleil had a lot of money. More than he’d first realized. He hadn’t cared, so when Code had whistled and pointed to the amount, he’d barely flicked a glance toward the screen. He had plenty of money. They didn’t need hers. He didn’t even want hers. But her money could have paid for some very experienced hit men. He supposed he couldn’t blame the cops for having that question in their minds. They could look at her financials and see she hadn’t touched her money.
Absinthe had gone over and over with Soleil the questions she was allowed to answer without him sitting beside her. The moment the police were satisfied that she wasn’t being coerced, she was to call him into the room.
Soleil had been trained in the best boarding schools both in the country and abroad. She carried herself perfectly, shoulders and back straight, hands folded neatly in her lap, her head up and no fidgeting. That had been drilled into her and came in handy on so many occasions. She could look haughty and annoyed, or vulnerable and sad, depending on what the situation called for. She had confidence in herself, but she was concerned about Ice.
No one believed someone like Soleil, an heiress to a fortune, could possibly have fallen in love with a man like Ice. Law enforcement actually believed the club had kidnapped her or coerced her into staying with them. They believed the club—and Ice—was after her money. She found it insulting on Ice’s behalf.
She waited for either to open the conversation, betting it would be Harrington. He reminded her a little of Czar, where Deveau was more like Maestro or Keys.