Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 95676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
I don't think she realizes yet that the most likely suspect is someone she knows, but it's going to devastate her when she does figure it out. I want to protect her from that. Not because I have to do it. Not because it's my job. But because she's a shining example of just how good people can be. This world needs that light. It's the only weapon we have against the dark.
Guys like me, we're a dime a dozen. We hold the line, but we're not the ones who win the war. Women like Ivy do. They show the world what it can be. And in doing so, they give us all a reason to hope. Whoever is trying to dull her light is a goddamn monster as far as I'm concerned.
And if there's one thing I don't have patience for, it's motherfuckers like that.
Ivy places her bag on the table and then pulls out a laptop.
I frown, suddenly wishing she'd sat on the other side of the table so I could see her screen instead of her face. Because the stubborn tilt to her chin and the defiant furrow of brows tells me that she's up to something, and I'd very much like to know what.
An hour later, curiosity gets the better of me. When I slip inside the diner, she's still in the same spot. Doesn't even look up when the bell over the door chimes. I cross toward her table as silently as possible, wanting to know what she's so engrossed in.
As soon as I see the screen of her laptop, I see red. She's on Facebook, Rory Clark's photo pulled up on her screen.
"What are you doing?" I snap, pissed beyond belief.
She yelps, spinning around so fast she nearly topples out of the chair.
Distress fills her blue eyes when she sees me towering over her, my arms crossed and a scowl on my face. I want to bend her over my knee and spank her perfect ass. Because whatever she's doing? It's bound to end up with her in more trouble than she's already in.
Judging by the guilt stamped across her face, she knows it too.
"I asked you a question," I growl as her gaze dances over me. I don't have to ask to know she likes what she sees. Reading people is my job, and she's an open book. Everything is right there on her face.
"I'm…" She flounders, searching for an explanation. I can almost hear the wheels turning in her mind as she tries to figure out whether a lie or the truth is more likely to piss me off. Eventually, she makes a choice. "I'm trying to figure out how someone like this kid ends up in an online relationship with someone no one has ever met before," she blurts. "Doesn't anyone think that's odd?"
I arch a brow, not sure what she's getting at.
"Four thousand people claim to be this woman's friends but have never seen her before."
"Who?" I ask.
"Her." Ivy clicks off Rory's picture, pointing at the name Ivy Wade across the top of the profile she's looking at. "Ivy Wade. Fake Ivy. If any of these people had ever met her before, they'd know she isn't me."
I glance at the screen, my eyes narrowed. "You're saying that isn’t you in the photo?"
There's no mistaking that it's her. A blind man could tell it was her.
"No, that is my picture, but this isn't my account."
"This isn't your account?"
"I've never seen it before today."
We both fall silent. Despite how it looks, I believe her. Isn't that the crux of my problem? I know she didn't do it but I'm going to have to arrest her and charge her with the crime anyway. That's how this story ends. Not with her in my bed, but with her in a jail cell, awaiting trial.
Unless I find a way to keep that from happening.
I stare at her for a long moment, weighing my options, following each to their inevitable conclusion. I know the rules. I know what's expected. But I didn't become a cop to let innocent people go to jail or to close cases regardless of the cost. Letting Ivy take the fall for this…I can't do it. She needs help right now, and I'm her only option.
I know what it'll cost me. When the brass finds out, they'll have a fucking fit. But I've never been one to blindly follow along. They knew that shit when they hired me. They damn sure know it now. If helping clear her name means losing my job, so be it. At least I'll have a clear conscience.
At least she'll be free.
"I know you don't believe me," she whispers, "but I don't know Rory Clark. I've never spoken with him before, let alone had a relationship with him. I'm just trying to find out who is doing this before I go to jail for something I didn't do."