Page 188 of Secret Obsession
He stands and helps me rise, too. His hand on my forearm is cool and firm. He guides me out ahead of him, past the detective, down the hallway. We don’t stop until we’re at his car, a matte black thing that probably costs more than the hockey house.
When we’re closed inside, the seat belt tight across my chest and hips, he glances at me. “I don’t need to know the full truth, Willow. But if there’s anything in your story that they could poke holes into…”
I bite my lip.
“Miles,” I whisper. “He was communicating with… Freeman… on his brother’s phone. Taunting him about me.”
“He was in the basement?”
I nod. My eyes burn.
He pulls out of the station and turns toward the hospital. “We’ll keep him out of it unless necessary,” he mutters. He hands me his phone. “Call him. Have him meet us at the hospital.”
“The gunshot went off next to his head.” I glance down at the screen. His lock screen is a gorgeous dark-haired woman, holding a toddler in her arms. They’re both dressed in black puffy jackets and hats with pom-poms, standing outside with snow all around them. “He’s probably already there for a burst eardrum or something. He couldn’t hear very well when they left.”
He sighs.
I call Miles anyway and confirm.
“We’ll see you soon,” I tell him.
“Self-defense is your best bet,” Asher continues. “If Miles was there, he could corroborate…”
“Miles can’t be dragged into this,” I interrupt. I grip the handle over my head and fight nausea. He’s drivingfast, whipping around corners like he owns them. “It’ll open up a whole other avenue of investigating—please, just trust that having him involved would do more harm than good.”
We get to the hospital in record time, and I leap out of the sports car. The lawyer follows close behind. At the ER desk, he takes over, explaining what happened and why I’m here. I pretend not to notice that he slides the nurse a wad of cash, which she tucks into her pocket with a furious blush.
And then we’re being led back to a curtained-off bed, and the nurse runs through what I can only imagine is standard procedure for someone who was attacked. When she asks what happened, I tell her that I was drugged, locked in a case freezer—which then seemed to be rolled, which I now can assume was when Freeman shoved it down the basement stairs, and then I fought him, albeit briefly.
“Can you find Miles?” I ask the lawyer.
He nods, sliding his phone back in the pocket of his slacks and striding out.
“You brought in the big guns,” the nurse whispers to me. “Caleb Asher is the best defense attorney on the East Coast. Most handsome, too.”
“He’s married.” I spotted the ring on his finger earlier. Not that it really matters.
“They were on the cover of a magazine a few years ago.” She glances over her shoulder in the direction he went. “Maybe I should ask for his autograph.”
I manage not to roll my eyes.
“I need to draw blood to run tests,” she says, wheeling over a tray.
“Okay.”
The curtain whips back just as she pushes the needle into my arm. I wince, and suddenly Miles is on my other side. He drags me into his chest, and only the nurse’s grip on my arm keeps me from launching at him.
“You okay?” he whispers in my ear.
“Don’t answer that,” Mr. Asher says from the foot of the bed.
Miles shoots him a look.
I take his hand, trying not to wince again when the needle moves, the nurse switching out a vial for another one. We both look at it, the way my blood fills it, and bile rushes up my throat.
“I’m going to be sick.”
The lawyer passes me a plastic tub, and I lean over it just as my stomach contents rush up and out.
