When I Say Yes (Necklace Trilogy 3)

I nod. “Yes. Please.”

Dash stands and motions to a man in plain clothes. He joins us, asks me a few questions, and the minute he hears exactly what happened, he motions to a female detective. Karen is petite, brunette, and pretty with a delicate way about her, which includes taking me to a police car where we both sit in the back seat and talk. It’s a long time later when that talk ends and I’m free to go.

I exit the car and Dash is immediately there pulling me close. “How did it go?”

“I told her I didn’t see the shooter. She said Jack had a lot of enemies. It almost sounded like he was already on their radar. I can go home, but they’re going to come by to talk to me again tomorrow, and pick up the necklace. I have to call my mother.”

“I already did. She’s going to come over tomorrow.”

Bella joins us, wrapping me in a bear hug. “My God, woman, you scared me to death. Don’t do that ever again.”

“How’d you even get behind the tape?” I ask.

“I came with Dash. I was already here. I’m so sorry this happened to you. Are you okay?”

We chat for a minute or two when my gaze lands on Tyler, just outside the yellow tape, and in conversation with a police officer. Dash and Bella follow my gaze and Bella says, “This is going to be hell for him.”

Tyler shows his ID to the officer and then he’s allowed to cross the tape. Dash glances at me. “Stay here, baby,” he says, and then he’s walking toward Tyler.

Bella and I watch the two men speak for a moment, and I assume Dash has given him all the horrible news, when Tyler’s chin lowers, his shoulders sinking forward. Dash’s hand is on Tyler’s arm, a show of comfort that ends when a detective approaches them. Bella and I don’t speak. We just watch it all happen. The conversation with Dash, the detective, and Tyler continues for a minute or two before Tyler breaks from Dash and heads back toward the police lineup.

Bella and I rush toward Dash. “What just happened?” Bella asks before I can.

“The detective is going to Tyler’s house,” Dash explains. “Tyler is not exactly feeling himself right now.”

“I’m going with him,” Bella says. “He can’t be alone.”

Dash catches her arm. “Bella—”

“I can handle this, Dash. He needs someone.”

“Be careful with Tyler.”

“I will,” she promises. “I will, but I’ve known him for years and he is our friend, no matter what has gone down between you two. I need to go.” She pulls away from Dash and rushes after Tyler.

“She’s going to end up in bed with him,” Dash says. “He’s going to hurt her.”

“Or maybe she’ll save him.”

He glances down at me. “I like your version of how this ends better than mine. Let’s go home, baby.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

The minute Dash and I walk into our apartment, Dash locks the door and scoops me up. “I can walk,” I assure him.

“But you don’t have to,” he says, heading toward the bedroom, my hero, whisking me away to safety, or in this case our bathroom, where he lowers me to my feet beside the tub.

“Sit,” he orders as I claim the ledge around the tub with my backside and he plugs the tub and starts the water. Almost as if he knows just how much I need to wash the dirt of this night off of me.

“Thank you, Dash.”

His hands come down on my face and he tilts my gaze to his. “I’m going to get you a glass of wine to calm your nerves.”

“Yes. Yes, that sounds good.”

He strokes my cheek with a tender touch and leaves me sitting there on the edge of the tub. I know I should get up and undress, but I find myself reading that letter again in my mind. Jack used his friendliness combined with his power as a way to slide under people’s radar. He was a predator, but just thinking of him lying there dead and bleeding, that damn hole in his head, is just too much. Tyler’s words run through my mind: “The illusion of having what we do not.”

Sometimes that illusion is another day of living with the people we love. So easily, that illusion could have been mine.

I blink and Dash is back in front of me, kneeling in front of me. “You okay?”

“Yes.” I press my hand to his face. “Because of you, Dash. Ghost didn’t save me. You did that from the day I met you.” I laugh, but it’s a bit of a choked sound. “He told me to tell you to write him a woman. One who is—”

“Like you?”

“Gentle but tough enough to handle him,” I say, “or something like that.”

“Like you,” he says. “I guess he and I have that in common. You’re the dream woman.”