Page 124 of Not Mine to Rescue

“Because Winter was crazy, I don’t know.”

Jim held up a hand to stop me. “Why were you holding Molly?”

I looked him in the eye. “Honor showed up. Molly slipped her lead, ran into the house, and attacked Winter. She got a hold of her sleeve. I was trying to get Molly off Winter so she wouldn’t be put down, and when Molly let go, I wrapped around her to— to keep her from biting Winter again.”

“You just lied.”

So?

Kid tilted his head to listen closely as Jim continued. “I can’t coach you, but I would appreciate it if you told me the truth. Why was Molly in your arms?”

“Winter threatened to shoot the dog. She said, say goodbye to everything you love. She said that to Honor. Not me. And I knew she was going to kill Molly. So, I wrapped around her.”

There was moisture in Jim’s eyes. “You tried to save our dog by... And you did. You saved Molly.” He tucked the notepad into his pocket and stood up. “Thank you.”

The outstretched hand he offered hung in the air. I didn’t take it. “Thank me by getting Honor free. That’s all I want.”

“Are you sure? This makes you look bad.” He touched the pocket where his notebook hid.

I knew it looked bad.

But I’d do anything to help her. I’d take a bullet meant for her dog, I’d claim to be a murderer, I’d give up everything I owned for Honor. Even it if meant losing her. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

Chapter Thirty

Honoria

The doorbell rang. Molly barked all the way to it and kept barking until I dragged my aching body to the damn thing and peeked out. My ex’s figure was wavy, but there was no mistaking the navy suit and that ugly Swarovski and embroidered tie. I’d paid three grand for the silk abomination. And despite the divorce, he still wore it like a trophy to my stupidity.

“Go away, Jim.”

I was in no shape for a visit. I was on day number unknown of puking my guts out. This day’s lovely discovery was the smell of carpet cleaner.

Funny how Molly having an accident didn’t bother me. It was the overly powder-smelling spray meant to clean up the mess that had me racing to the nearest sink to spit out foamy bile and gag on nothing but air. My nose and stomach had teamed up; both were determined to kill me.

The charges were reduced pending trial. I wore an ankle bracelet. And I had to talk to Jim because the firm insisted he was on the case. Meanwhile, my license to practice was suspended indefinitely for murder.

Manslaughter, self-defense... defense of the owner of the home. The terms clung to me like nightmares.

I’d stopped therapy against everyone’s advice.

What good would it do?

I was fully pregnant. Tomorrow was the three-month mark.

He tapped on the glass. “Honor? Open up, I’m representing my client. He wants to help you and be here for his child.”

Oh shit. Wombat was here? I plastered my forehead against the glass and soaked in its chill to calm my stomach. “Tell your client, it might not happen!”

Wombat’s voice drifted through the wall. “Honor? Please don’t get upset. Please?”

Jim cut him off. “You need to discuss this situation with him. He has a right to be here. At least for visits.”

I yanked open the door and literally growled like a wolf at Jim. “Fine. But you have to leave.” I hated his face, that stupid glittery tie, and the sound of his voice.

Which just wouldn’t stop yapping at me. “Honor, I did the best I could. But you didn’t make it easy. What were you thinking, confessing?”

“I told the truth,” I reminded him for the fortieth time.