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

“He’ll get half the sentence, Lottie. And with good behavior, he’ll get out in half that time as well. Four years, tops. Your kid won’t even be in kindergarten yet. Tell him to take the deal. If the trial goes south, we’re looking at fifteen years minimum. There’s no reason for him to lose that much time. This isn’t the hour for a flight of fancy. The feds don’t pursue a case unless they think they can win. We’re not just looking at an uphill battle—we’re looking at a trip to the dark side of the moon. It’s going to take a miracle to survive this.”

“Oh, Everett.” Lemon takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. Her eyes swell with tears. The pain on her face isn’t something I’d like to memorize, but unfortunately I have a feeling I’ll be seeing it for the next fifteen years every time I close my eyes. “What are you going to do?”

“What do you want me to do?” I say the words carefully, not wanting to influence her in the least.

She shakes her head slightly.

“Then it’s settled.” I breathe a sigh of relief, but only because I know this option buys me a little time with Lemon on the front end.

If things go wrong, as they’ve been prone to do, I’ll pay for it in spades. I look over to Fiona. “Tell the DA we’re not taking the deal. Let’s get a trial date.”

Fiona lulls her head back and glares over at Lemon as if this were all her fault.

“As you wish.” She scoops up her things and takes off without so much as a goodbye.

Lemon wraps her arms around me and plants a kiss to my lips.

“We’re going to get a miracle, Everett. Just you wait and see.”

“Good.” We’re going to need it.

The birthing class across town is filled with women with round bellies, their respective coaches, and a lot of love and joy—two things my world will be devoid of once I hit Fenwick in my spiffy new orange suit. I won’t lie, a part of me is kicking myself for not taking the deal. But another part of me wants to believe that I’ll get my miracle, just the way Lemon demands to believe it.

Class has just begun, and I’m seated behind Lemon while she uses my body as a backrest and I give her a massage over the shoulders as Lainey and Serena instructed the class to do.

Noah speeds in late and lands next to us.

“Sorry, Lot.” He picks up her hand and gives it a kiss.

Funny. I don’t remember being so routinely physical with her when they were together, at least not in front of Noah.

“Don’t worry about it,” Lemon moans. “Everett has it all under control.”

“Don’t I always?” I tease. Because it might become very apparent that I have nothing under control. I nod over to Noah. “So what did you glean?”

I know for a fact he was in Ashford toying with that phone the sheriff’s department is holding as evidence. Evidence of what nobody is certain, least of all not the sheriff’s department themselves.

Lemon snaps her head in his direction. “Well?”

Noah gives an impish grin. “It worked. Teddy, along with the number nine, was her password. Chad was right. It was easy to hack.”

Lemon glances back at me. “I guess he could be the one texting Evie.”

“And he could very well be the killer.” I nod.

Noah blows out a breath. “I reached out to Insta Pictures and let them know the sheriff’s department needed the records of all the messages that were being sent this month. If we can get the phone number of whoever is behind this, things might come to a close a lot faster than we anticipate.”

“Noah.” Lottie gives his hand a rattle. “You are a genius.”

“I am, but it’s still nice to hear it from you.” He offers her a sly wink, and he’s very much flirting.

Noah never stops. Heck, Lemon has never stopped loving him. I know this. In fact, I know that if I’m not around for the next fifteen years, Noah Fox is the only man I’d approve of filling my shoes.

Of course, once I got out, I’d have to give him the boot again. But by then, there will be another person among us—one who will be very much used to having Noah around as his or her father. And he might just be that to them, their father.

No, I couldn’t give him the boot. I need to face it. Once they slam the cell door behind me, they’ll be slamming the door on my relationship with Lemon forever.

I’m not toying with her heart in fifteen years, destroying the family she would have built with Noah. I would never allow myself to cause that kind of pain to anyone. Not to Lemon. Heck, not even to Noah.

There might be other children involved by then. Lemon can’t wait for me. Her birthing years are here, in front of us. In fifteen years, that too might be in the rearview mirror. And I would never want to rob her of the joy of expanding her family. And if Lemon tries to remain loyal to me, holding the rest of her life at bay—that is exactly what’s going to happen—I’d be robbing her of everything.

“Okay, mamas and coaches.” Serena steps into the center of our circle with Lainey by her side. “First thing’s first. If you haven’t already shored up your birthing plan, this is your final opportunity. If you plan on having an epidural, now is the time to ask your doctor about the risks. If you’re determined to go at it naturally, then you might want to have your coach commit to keeping you on track.”

Lainey shakes her head over at Lemon.

When Lainey had her baby, she had done exactly that, and as fate and horrific birth pains would have it, she had to threaten every person in that room within an inch of their lives until