Pure Sin (Privilege 5)

In, one . . . two . . . three . . .

Out, one . . . two . . . three . . .

Her vision began to clear, and she took a step forward. “Lexa, listen, I know this is difficult, but it’s all going to be okay.”

“How?” Lexa blurted, lifting her face. “I can’t stop thinking about it. I can’t stop . . . seeing her face. You killed her, Ana. And I helped you hide it. That makes me an accessory.”

Ariana gritted her teeth. It was never a good sign when people started talking in legal terms. It meant they were thinking in legal terms. Which meant they were considering bringing the law into it. Ariana could not have this.

“Lex, it was self-defense,” Ariana said, sitting next to Lexa on the bed and taking her hand. “She was trying to kill you. Did you want me to let her do that?”

“No!” Lexa replied. “But if it was self-defense, then it should be fine. If we tell the police, they’ll—”

“It’s too late for that,” Ariana said, squeezing her friend’s hand. “We hid her body. We cleaned up your house. It’s been two weeks. If we tell them now, it doesn’t matter how we say it happened, we’re going to look guilty.”

“But—”

“There’s no reason to cry over her, Lexa,” Ariana said calmly. “The girl knew you were hiring a PI to look into her past. Clearly there was something she didn’t want you to find. She came there to kill you. Do you understand that? The girl was psychotic.”

Lexa’s eyes were wide with terror, as if she expected Kaitlynn to burst through the door at any moment and try to take her life all over again.

“You and I are the only ones who know what happened that night,” Ariana said, looking Lexa directly in the eye. “As long as we keep the secret between us, we’ll be fine. You’ll remain president of Stone and Grave, your dad will keep his job, and we’ll both graduate and go on to wonderful things. But if we tell . . .”

She let the implication hang in the air. Lexa looked across the room at the photograph of her and her parents posing with the president, everyone wearing huge smiles. Ariana could practically see the gears working in her friend’s mind as she realized anew what could happen. Her life, her father’s political career, her future—all of it could be taken from her.

“You’re right,” Lexa said finally, sniffling as she looked down at her lap. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Ariana wrapped her arm around Lexa. “It’s okay. So . . . no police?”

“No police,” Lexa said.

“And no more freak-outs?” Ariana asked, holding her breath.

“No more freak-outs,” Lexa promised. Then she turned and hugged Ariana with both arms. “Thank you so much, Ana. For saving my life.”

“Of course,” Ariana replied, closing her eyes as she hugged Lexa back. She had cleared this hurdle. Now all she could do was hope that Lexa kept her promises. “I would do it again in a heartbeat, Lexa,” she added. “You’re my best friend.”

When Ariana walked into the sunlit conference room at Jessup, Martin, and Falk, Leon Jessup was kicked back in one of the leather chairs around the glass-topped conference table, reading the local paper. He was a large man, broad and tall, his shoulders spilling over the sides of the wide chairback. In his mouth was a breath mint, which he rolled around on his tongue and occasionally bit down on. Behind him was a wall of rounded windows overlooking the Smithsonian Institution Building, where yellow school buses were lined up like limousines waiting outside the Academy Awards. The attorney didn’t notice Ariana until she cleared her throat.

“Miss Covington!” he announced in a congenial tone. He folded the paper and tucked it into the side compartment on his leather briefcase before standing and offering his hand. “I apologize. It’s so rare that I get a moment to relax and read the paper; I believe I was quite in another world.”

“It’s not a problem. I can only imagine how busy you are,” Ariana said with a smile, shaking his hand. Then, suddenly, she remembered why she was here and how Briana Leigh would be expected to act. She rearranged her features into a pensive frown.

“Have a seat,” Jessup said, gesturing at the chair next to his.

The puffed-up leather let out a quiet, comforting sigh as Ariana sat. Several legal documents were laid out across the table, each with bright pink tabs sticking out of their sides with the helpful words SIGN HERE in bold black letters.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Jessup said, sitting next to her and rolling his chair closer to the table. He stopped messing with the mint, as if the occasion was too somber for such behavior.

“Thank you,” Ariana said. Surreptitiously she eyed the paperwork, trying to discern any dollar amounts in all the legal gibberish. “Did you know my grandmother well?”

“Samantha Covington was a great lady. Not to mention one of our most important clients.”

“She must be, if one of the firm’s partners is flying out just to meet me,” Ariana said, lifting one eyebrow.

Jessup cracked a smile. “We have four offices—Houston, St. Louis, Atlanta, and DC. There are about thirty other places I’m supposed to be right now, but I promised your grandmother I’d take care of her estate myself when the time came. I’m honored to be able to fulfill that promise.”

“Thank you,” Ariana said.