Raspberry Tart Terror (Murder in the Mix Book 30) Unknown (christmas read aloud .TXT) 📖

might say this has something to do with that curse that landed my way back in October, but I’m fairly certain I did this all on my own.

There was no nefarious supernatural interference.

I’m the curse in this equation.

I caused this all to happen.

I’m the disaster here.

Me.

Everett

There have been times in my life when I have been steeped in regret. And there have been times in my life where I’ve been glad to take one on the chin to protect those I care about. Oddly, this legal nightmare I find myself embroiled in fits both of those categories.

The cell is dank and small. Thankfully, there’s no one else but Noah and me in it.

Sheriff Jack Turner seals us in himself and waits for the click of the lock before sighing over at us.

“Well, boys?” His voice echoes over the cinder-block walls. “I’m not sure what the hell is going on, but I happen to know you’re both upstanding citizens. When people judged you for your questionable moral standards regarding Lottie and that kid she’s carrying, I wasn’t one of them. Lottie Lemon is like a daughter to me, and I know for a fact she’s a good judge of character. What I didn’t understand is why the two of you would steal a corpse from the morgue—the daughter of a mobster no less. But the more I gave it some thought, the more I figured the mob must have had a hand in your actions. Don’t bother saying a word to me. Save it all for your attorney. We’ll get you some one-on-one time alone with Ms. Dagmeyer soon enough. Noah”—he nods his way—“you’re suspended without pay until further notice, obviously. I won’t lie. I’d be thrilled to give you your position back once this mix-up is over, but I’ll have to be careful. I don’t want to be accused of playing favorites. You’ll be under internal review and go through the proper channels before you’re at your desk again. Try to keep your spirits up—both of you. There might be a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel yet. I hope. In the meantime, don’t kill each other in here.”

He shuffles off and it’s just Noah and me, glaring at one another, considering killing one another if only because the sheriff put it on the table.

“Don’t do this.” Noah’s cheeks flex when he says it.

“Too late. It’s done. Fiona should wrap this up pretty quickly on your end. If you play your cards right, you may never see the inside of a courtroom. I’m guessing arbitration at worst. But that only works if you deny the hell out of everything. Play along—you had nothing to do with it, Noah. It was my car they found, not yours.”

“I hauled that body out of that morgue right along with you. It was my backyard we buried her in. And we don’t know the evidence they have as of yet.”

“That’s what Fiona is gathering right now.” I run my fingers through my hair and take a deep breath. “Look, Noah. Don’t make me hurt you to drive home the point. Lemon is having a baby. Both of us cannot be out of commission by way of a prison cell for God knows how long.”

“We’ll make bail,” he says, taking a seat on one of the benches lining the walls.

“And when this goes to trial, we could make prison, too.” My jaw clenches as I try my best to stifle my anger. “A month ago I could never have conceived this.”

He leans hard and rests his elbows on his knees. “And you didn’t. Lottie asked me if I thought Florenza could help us avoid that mob massacre. I said yes. This is my doing. My nightmare. I pulled us into this.”

“And I’m the only one who can pull us out of it.” My voice echoes over the walls like a gong. “Someone just might go down for this one, Noah. But it does not have to be you.”

The clip-clop of high heels speeds in this direction and Fiona is let into the cell.

She watches as the guard takes off before glowering at us.

“What in the hell were the two of you thinking?” She takes a seat over on the bench next to Noah. “Essex, I expected more out of you.”

Essex.

My lips purse as she says my proper name. It’s nothing I’m ashamed of, but it’s not a name I prefer. My father had a way of saying it that set my teeth on edge, so a few years ago I let people know I preferred to be called by my middle name, Everett.

But back when I was after everything that wasn’t nailed down, a few of the women got a thrill out of using my formal moniker and refused to call me anything but. Word got around, and soon only the women I bedded—of which I’m ashamed to say there were many—were calling me by my proper name.

I didn’t mind. And yes, Fiona Dagmeyer happens to be one of many.

Of course, Lemon has called me Everett from the get-go, and I prefer it. She’s the only woman I’m with, and I plan on keeping it that way. She’s my wife, even if we did start off as a business transaction, and I want to keep it that way, too—the wife part. Not that Noah won’t want to have a say in it. Noah is forever getting in the way.

I shoot Noah a look. And here he is. In the way as usual.

My mother was married to his father for all of five minutes. Just long enough for Noah to sweep in and steal my high school girlfriend. At the time it felt like a pretty big deal—something I needed to give him a black eye over, and I did. But Cormack Featherby and I weren’t all that serious, not outside the physical realm. At the end of the day, I couldn’t care less if they were together.

But Lemon? I’m not